TRUST

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.

ANTICS ON THE LAWN SWINGS

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.

REVENGE OF THE ROBINS

Ever since I glued thumbtacks on the lawn swings we have had bird-poopless lawn swings. It has been nice. Until today. On each lawn swing was a random bird dropping. Not where they would have stood on the bar, singing and having a moment. No, in a random place. Here's how I think it happened.

Bird one--The Culprit: Ouch, ouch, ouch.

Bird two: Whaa's the mattah? (He's a New York bird, blown off course by a nasty freak wind. Maybe he's from the Bronx or maybe he's even from Yonkers. I love that name. Yonkers. It just kind of plonks off the tongue. Yonkers.)

The Culprit: My feet hurt. I flew down to my favorite bathroom spot and now my feet hurt and I didn't even have time to....

New Yorker: Ah, ya fool. Ya've been thumtacked.

The Culprit: Thuntacked, what does that mean?

New Yorker: It means "keep off" in human language. They are a naughty species and probably think it's funny to see ya hopping around, holding yer foot up fer inspection..

The Culprit: Well, I'll be. What a mean thing to do.

New Yorker: We'll get revenge. Here's what we'll do.

Then New Yorker proceeds to whisper into The Culprit's ear and soon The Culpret is making a pass over the lawn swings and we hear New Yorker yelling, "Bombs away!" and that is how the lawn swings happen to have bird poop in random places.

Later:

The Culprit: How's that?

New Yorker: Perfect! Tomorrow we'll fly off and get Zelzee's car. Her regulars are gettin' tired and I told them we'd bring in fresh ammo.

BATHING IN A BUCKET

Lord Bumhampton climbed up on my lap. I nuzzled his little neck, he smelled of summer. Sometimes I’d lick my children’s arms just to smell the rich summer fragrance. It made them laugh, to see, and feel their mother licking their arms.

“I should take him in and give him a bath,” I said.

Mom didn’t say anything.

“I really should,” I said, halfheartedly.

“You know,” she said in a quiet voice, swinging the lawn swing with a slow rhythm, “there’s nothing says he has to bathe in the house. When I was a kid we bathed in a tin tub. Even a bucket would do.”

“I’ll be right back,” I said.

I set the bucket of warm water on the patio and tried to persuade my boy that bathing in a bucket was going to be fun. He wasn’t buying it. Getting naked in the back yard was out of his two-year-old comfort zone.

I swirled my hand in the water. He did too and soon he was splashing and laughing. He hardly noticed as I stripped his clothes off. When they were in a pile he stepped into the bucket and stood still while I soaped a washcloth and washed his plumb tummy, his arms and legs. I soaped the summer smell off his neck, then scooped water and let it cascade over his head. Water ran down his summer-browned arms and dripped off his fingers. I soaped his round little bottom and he laughed. Mom smiled.

When he was rinsed off I bundled him in a towel. Mom dried his hair with a corner of it and then wrapped the towel around him, tucking the end in so he could walk around. We called him our little Tongan.

I dumped the water on the grass. He poked at the wet grass with a stick and then came to get dressed. He climbed on my lap and snuggled down.

The stars came out; there were more stars then, city lights were fewer. Lord Bumhampton fell asleep.

We swung in the dark for a long time--Mother, daughter and grandson, his breath warmed my breast. He sighed in his sleep. Mom and I smiled in the dark and talked softly.

It was a night made of magic. Thin magic. Warm-toast kind of magic. I didn’t know it then, but it was also the future’s I-wish-I-could-go-back-in-time kind of magic. We stayed on the swing long after the stars filled the sky with specks of light and the crickets courted.

We were three generations. Maybe we were watched over by unseen generations, the ones who had gone before and those unborn, waiting to come, maybe one of those unborn was Lord Bumhampton's little sister, Her Excellency of Mousehole. I like to think that’s true. Maybe Lord Bumhampton's future children were there too, there might have been many generations, stretching in the distance on both ends, and the three of us, in the middle, swinging together, held together, by silken family threads, one summer night, so long ago.

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.

SIX WORD MONDAY 6-30-08

Loving, laughing, sharing, swinging with friends.

THE ANATOMY OF SWINGERS

Ha! Got your attention, didn't I? Not that kind of swingers, just friends, sitting on the lawn swings, swinging.

Saturday's Swingers: Just Phil and me. We sat together, which we don't always do as the newer swings are more comfortable for him, the older ones are more comfortable for me. He put his arm around me and we sat, mostly in silence, enjoying the closeness and companionship. It was like old times, dating times when we could sit and talk for hours.

Yesterday's Swingers: Dona, Mark, Pam, Phil and me. We laughed so much and so loud that today our neighbor--across the street--who was in the house last night but heard us--asked to be let in on yesterday's joke. It was funny, a hilarious story, but would leave something in the translation. That Dona, she has a story for every occasion.

Today's Swingers: Joan, David, Kim, Genny, Dick, Boyd, Betty, Phil and me. Subjects today were more serious, a bit of joking, Boyd brought Australian licorice and dark chocolate. We watched the comings and goings in the neighborhood, waved to neighbors. Nate rode by on his bike and then stopped for a half hour or so and gave us news of one of his sisters, who some of us taught in Young Women's. She has another cancer but not an aggressive one. She will be in all our prayers tonight.

We are a close neighborhood. Share each other's joys and tragedies. Share jokes. Share friendships. Share treats. Share anticipated trips to J-Dawg--some have not been to J-Dawg yet. Unbelievable.

Which is where Pam and Sarah and I went to today. Which is a story for another day but if you are local to Provo and Orem you owe yourself a trip. Get it with extra sauce and extra banana peppers and unless you are a spicy Dawg lover, avoid the jalapenos. Don't forget the Smart Cookie while you are there. Sarah buys them by the dozen.

DON'T YOU WISH...

Don't you wish you had a friend like this?



I have friends like this, and daughters like this--perfectly at ease and happy to be with me. I don't think I would lay on them though--that might make them seriously dead--and I don't think they would put their hands on my...well, my shirt, just right there. But I do have friends and daughters like this, just like these two cousins.

I am so lucky. I hope you are lucky, too.

A DAY IN THE SUN

It's warm here today. Hooray! We spent the day on the lawn swings. Friends stopped by. We visited. More friends stopped by. We visited more. It was a great afternoon.



Tuesday found the LAST OF THE SHOW! She made a Snow Man.

Kind of.

Here she is with a Turkey Lip. Do you have Turkey Lips in your family? My mom always said, "Your lip is so big a turkey could roost on it." Her theory was that then I would laugh and the pouting would be over. I'm not sure it worked. I was a serious pouter. Tuesday demonstrates a Turkey Lip.

Then she gets over it.

Her mother couldn't convince her to put her shoes on the right feet.

And finally, all is right with the world. The lawn swings are out, the sun was shining and the rhubarb is up. In a week--if we have good weather--we'll be peeling, salting and eating our first pieces. Mmmm. Come on over, I'll peel and salt a piece for you. Or two. Or ten.

MOTHER MAY I?

Hooray! The lawn swings are up. Here is Tuesday, pretending it's no big deal.

It's a big deal, Tuesday, trust me. It means spring is here even if the temperature was thirty-seven degrees this morning.

But Mary Poppins and Curly Sue know it's a big deal. Here they are, saying, "can we play Mother May I, can we huh? Pleeeease, please, please."

Gilmore Girl does not give normal commands, such as you may four giant steps. Oh no, she says things like you may take four "Stand Alone in the Dark Forest of Fear's." Just kidding, I made that up, but it's no more bizarre than what my darling daughter does makes up.

How about four Wheel Round Pixie Doodles? Then they have to make up what they think a Pixie would doodle, with a wheel round. Think, think, think. I've got it.

How's this?

If I remember right this has something to do with a bean stalk.

"Oh, no! I forgot to say 'Mother May I'"

Back to the starting line.

Tuesday decides she'll go keep Mary Poppins company.

And then Curly Sue forgets to say "Mother May I" so so back she goes. But...they go back so often we begin to think they forget on purpose so the game can go on...and on...and on.

Almost there.

Here I come with my Fangdangled Top Twirlers.

Oh, no, she is winning.

And then, when the game was done Curly Sue got punctured with a bolt on the very ancient lawn swings and we adjourned inside for neosporin and a Band-aid.

And Tuesday wondered what all the fuss was about.

But I'll tell you, THE LAWN SWINGS ARE UP and that means spring and sunlight and no more gloomy snowy days.

Hopefully.