PLEASE WATCH CHILDREN CAREFULLY WHILE IN OUR STORE.

This was the sign posted in the store that Gilmore Girl, Tuesday and I shopped at on Friday.I took their advice seriously. I watched as Tuesday found a convenient stool at the jewelry table.
She tried on the bracelets. She was very impressed with the gold purse. What do you use this for, Grandma?Oh, lookit! More sparkleys! And would you look at these prices? Unbelievable.
I watched as she climbed out of the dressing room.
She tried on hats. She made a "turkey lip." She played with tags.
And she tried on sunglasses.

The store's policy was a good idea. It was fun watching Tuesday while in their store.

PS Don't ask what product that is in the green box. I have no knowledge. I see no evil. I speak no evil.

SIX WORDS FOR BAD STUFF I ATE AND WHY

Soup's gone so I ate lasagna.

FOILED BY THE MISSING SOUP

I am trying to eat better--and eat less--so I can loose a pesky eight hundred and eighty-eight pounds--more or less--and not have to be have a wall of the house sawed off and then be have to be carried away on a flat bed truck.

I went to lunch at Applebee's with Gilmore Girl and Tuesday and ate too much or maybe just the wrong kinds of things. Bacon should not have been eaten by an eight hundred and eighty-eight pound housebound woman who has a flat bed truck and a chain saw on stand-by.

Bacon. Surely on the top of the "bad-for-you-food," list, followed closely by a mayonnaise sandwich--I have a cousin who says he loooves a good mayonnaise sandwich and a friend who said she does too, but she one up's him, she adds potato chips to hers. That girl knows how to par-tay.

But she has nothing on the creativity of Americans, bless their struggling artery clogged hearts. Here are some foods people actually eat:

Battered, deep fried Twinkies.


Bacon, cheddar cheeseburger sandwiched between two Krispy Kreme doughnuts. This actually has it's own name--a Luther Burger.



Chili cheese fries, topped with ranch dressing, just for fun.

Stuffed crust, double decker pizza with extra cheese and a variety of meats with nitrates. (Speaking of meats with nitrates we will NOT be mentioning J-Dawgs, no-sir-ee.)

Anything Guy Fieri--of "Diners, Drive-ins and Dives" on the Food Network, eats. I'm not kidding. The stuff he eats on that show would kill anyone. Today he ate a soup made of cow hooves and cow stomachs. Usually he eats concoctions of meat, cheese, cream, and gravy and it usually involves deep frying. Although I did see him eat a strawberry once. I have just a tiny little crush on him--don't tell. He's weird but he grows on you and he does so enjoy his deep fried, melty cheese, gravy covered food. I hope he doesn't die.

Soda followed by a drink that is even worse, diet soda.

Anything made with canola oil. Don't write me letters about this, I have my reasons.

Anything microwaved. Hey, did I say don't write me letters? Okay, you can write me letters. I love letters. I crave letters. Just don't say the words "canola oil" or "microwave oven" in them. Use words like, "cute" and "delightful" and "skinny." You don't have to be talking about me, just throw those words in as fillers.

So, today after the bacon-at-Applebee's-fiasco I was going to eat Kale and Bean Soup and a stack of carrots for dinner. Phil fixed leftovers for himself and then left for BYU to do some clerk stuff for the BYU Ward before Sunday. I was on the lawn swings, chatting with friends. When I came in to eat dinner there was only a tiny bit of soup left and Phil had left a hunk of leftover lasagna RIGHT OUT IN THE OPEN WHERE IT CALLED MY NAME. Disgusting, lasagna, calling my name like that. So, did I stick my fingers in my ears? No. I ate it. And many other things that were not on my list. And now I am sitting here with regrets.

Does that ever happen to you? Lasagna calls your name because the soup was all gone? There ought to be a law.

Wait. Did you hear that? It sounded like a chain saw and a flat bed truck, revving it's motor. Maybe if we're really, really quiet they won't know we're here.

MY 1950'S NAME

Your 1950s Name is:

Dorothy Charlene

What's" Your 1950s Name?

SIX WORDS FOR BEING OFFENDED WHEN NO OFFENSE WAS MEANT

"You beast!"

She used nicer words.

I HURT SOMEONE'S FEELINGS YESTERDAY

Oh joy, how did this happen? I hurt someone's feelings yesterday. I asked her to do something. I was supposed to say, "What do you think about this idea?"

I think people take offence to easily. Why did such a little thing bother this woman and that she came to my house to tell me so. She must be really, really peeved at me.

What should I do?

I've apologized. Twice. The second apology is in a letter that will be mailed tomorrow. I talked to Phil about it and he gave me some words of comfort. The next person I need to talk to is Heavenly Father. I hope she was comforted too but I worry.

And I'll tell you what else. I'm weary of people taking offence when none was given. I can't tell you the amount of times I have decided that relationships were more important than supposed offence. I've learned that a thick skin is a desirable fashion statement.

It took me a while to come to this position. When I was a teenager I took offence easily and was the one who was hurt in the long run. I'll give you one example--I could give you another one but it still hurts, my stupidity was overwhelming and I never made it right. A relationship was lost. In fact, because one relationship was lost, more were lost, too. It was my fault and I have no way of undoing it. I think of this person often and wish we were still friends.

Here's the one I will tell you about. I was corresponding with a girl who lived in Alaska. She was older than me, so articulate, had beautiful penmanship, was funny and wise and was all things that I was not. One day she said something like, "I've overspent. Do you want to make me a loan?" I took it personally, thinking she was really asking me for money, which, of course, wasn't true. I quit writing. What on earth was the matter with me?

She wrote and asked if she had offended me. I was so petty I wouldn't answer her letters.

I have missed her friendship all these years. I have grieved over this loss, too. I've tried to find her but so much time has gone by that I can't even remember her name. I remember her sister's name--Janet. They had relatives in Annabella, I can't remember who the relative was--I'm thinking it might have been her grandma.

So, if you know someone who grew up in Anchorage, Alaska, who has a sister named Janet and has ties to Annabella, Utah please tell her I'm sorry I was such a thin-skinned fool and that I've missed her.

And then I'm going to go lick today's wounds and try to do better.

SIX WORDS FOR OVERHEARD ABOUT STEPHENIE MEYER'S BOOKS

I'd have to be gay, dear.

OVERHEARD ABOUT STEPHENIE MEYER'S VAMPIRE BOOKS

Stephenie Meyer's has asked her readers not to read her draft of Midnight Sun. Following her wishes won't be a problem for my friend's husband. They were talking about Stephenie's books. She loves them. She wanted to share them with him. He tried, he really did. Finally he gave up.

"Honey," he said, "I'd have to be gay to read those books."

So, Stephenie, there's one reader you won't have to convince. One down, three million to go.

SIX WORDS FOR PERSISTENT CHILD AND TOOTHPASTE FOAM

Foam, sliding down the overflow hole.

THE SEWER SNAKE

Eight-years-old Brown Dot didn’t like to brush his teeth. In order to make the process less painful he devised an interesting way to dispose of the toothpaste foam. He would crank his head upside down and spit it down the overflow hole in the sink.

I was afraid there would be foam-buildup and that if the sink ever started to overflow there would be no place for the water to go. The possibility that we would have a real mess in the bathroom was a worry so I asked him not to spit there. I asked nicely.

He continued to spit down the overflow hole.

The next day I reasoned with him, telling him why he shouldn’t spit down the overflow hole. I was sure that if he had more information he would be cooperative.

He continued to spit down the overflow hole.

A few days later I resorted to using a firm voice. An authoritative voice—a mother’s “I mean business,” voice.

Maybe he didn’t know I meant business. Maybe he didn't care because he continued to spit down the overflow hole.

Then I told him it was a stupid thing to do.

He didn't care that it was a stupid thing to do. He liked it.

The next week I demanded that he not spit down the overflow hole.

He ignored my demands.

From then on I told him, in no uncertain terms not to spit down the overflow hole. I told him, “I’m not kidding.”

He did not care that I wasn’t kidding. He still spit.

I threatened. Daily.

He ignored my threats. He continued to spit down the overflow hole.

I finally pleaded, the second to last resort of a desperate mother. Surely he would take pity on a pleading mother.

He had no pity—he was dedicated to spitting down the overflow hole. This boy was nothing if not dedicated.

As a very last resort I used reverse psychology. I was clever. He would never recognize my ploy. He would stop spitting down the overflow hole. I was sure of it.

He overcame my cleverness and continued to spit down the overflow hole.

And then, one day, Phil passed the bathroom door at the exact second The Brown Dot was spitting a mouthful of foam down the overflow hole. “The sewer snake is going to come out of there,” Phil said, “and bite your lips off.”

The overflow hole became instantly, and forever more, spit-less.

SIX WORDS FOR HOPING FOR "REAL" EMAIL

Health lists, recipes, chore charts, Iwantsomerealemail!

"ALT TAB," DO I HAVE ANY "REAL" EMAIL YET?

Why is it that even though I have a blog to write, a personal history story to write, I keep typing "alt-tab" to see if I have any real email. I don't hope for real mail any more. I don't send hardly any myself, even though I mean to.

So, I push "alt-tab" and see I have emails from:

Flylady--I'm sure she is going to tell me to fold a batch of laundry and swish and swipe or swish and flush--I'm not kidding. She says something like that. And she tells me to put on shoes with laces. Does she not know about bare feet and summer and toe nail polish? And she'll tell me to do something to the dishwasher, either unload it, or start it, or look vacantly into it because you have lost your mind and think it's the refrigerator. It you are old you think it's the ice box.

ThirdAge Health and Wealth--I'm sure they will tell me to brush my teeth to avoid heart disease, stop eating sugar, exercise and I don't know what they are going to say about wealth. Get some, I guess.

Fire Mountain Gems Specials--they show me beads and more beads, thinking that just because I subscribed to their email service, that I'm going to become a beader...or a jewelry maker or whatever you are when you are creative and make stuff. I figured it out one day, I could buy a bunch of their beads and make something sub-standard that would only cost me twice as much as if I went to a great store, like Chico's, and bought something stylish that I would love. It might cost me three times as much. I'm not opening that email. I have made enough ugly, handmade, half finished stuff in my day that got donated to DI where someone else bought it, brought it home, looked at it for a month and donated it back to DI. Because of my stupid, half-made, ugly stuff DI has made lots and lots of dollars. They should send me an email, thanking me.

Top Secret Recipes--since he started charging 79 cents for his recipes I don't go to his site. He is grieving over my absence, I'm sure.

Some one's weekly e-zine--who is this and why did I subscribe to this? It's a mystery. Everyone should have a little mystery in their life and this, obviously, is mine. I am going to state, right here, in black and white--I want a better mystery.

Self Improvement Newsletter--As if I don't feel bad enough about myself. I'm not opening this to see what else I don't do. No sir-ee. I'll just stay ignorant and un-improved.

Health Seeker's Forum--see Third Age Health, above. They might say eat raw food, too. It seems I have subscribed to a lot of "health" type newsletters or groups. I wonder if "this means something." (Reminder to myself: add Close Encounter of the Third Kind" to my Netflix queue. Yesterday we watched another one of my interesting films. This one was completely in French with English subtitles. Phil had a nice nap while I watched. I really know how to pick winners. I should hire out as an advisor at horse race tracks.)

Early to Rise---Ha! Now I might open one that says "Early in the Morning to Bed." But I'm trying to quit. As soon as this blog post is done and I've written a personal history story I'm going to bed. I have five minutes to make my goal.

Alt-tab. Well, would you lookit that? A real email.

Bye.

SIX WORDS FOR SIMPLE PLEASURE

Geraniums, sipping sunshine through frosted windows.

SIMPLE PLEASURES

Let me introduce you to Margo and LuLu. Simple things bring pleasure, don't you think? Margo and LuLu are simple pleasure bringers.And they are friends. They sat together all summer, waiting patiently for their chance to brighten things up. It never happened.
They simply didn't get planted in the yard or in a pot or in a basket.
But it's okay because they will brighten my bathroom all winter.

I have given them my favorite pot to live in. Perhaps they will gossip geranium gossip and tell geranium jokes and for sure I know they will give geranium joy.

SIX WORDS FOR THE GAMERS BIRTHDAY GIFT

Choose, stuff, fluff, name and love.

MOVIE EIGHT BELOW INFLUENCED THE GAMER'S BUILD A BEAR CHOICE

The Gamer wanted to go to Build a Bear for his birthday gift. His family watched "Eight Below" last night and so he stood in front of the "Husky" bin for a long time. His little brother got the Husky dog for his birthday less than a month ago so it was hard for The Gamer to get the same dog, but finally the longing won and he chose the Husky.

Good choice, I think.

Then it was time to stuff......and fluff......and decide whether the dog wanted clothes or a bed, etc. The Soap Queen buys all the do-dads and she gave him the choice. He choose the bed, a bowl and a baby dog which hangs from the Daddy dog's mouth. Good choice. What self respecting dog wants to wear pants?Then it was time to give him a name...which I have forgotten. The baby dog's name is Max.Mom watches as he types in all the information.Smiley thinks it's pretty fun, coming to Build a Bear. He always gets to come."When will it be my turn?" he seems to be saying.On the way out of the mall we walked through Deseret Book and a sales girl said, "You may not take photos in this store."

What a fat head. Oh, excuse me, I mean, what a diligent sales person, making sure I followed the letter of the law. I tried to joke around with her but she was not having any of that. She did not waste any charm on me, either. I should write to Sherri Dew and tell her that she has succeeded in hiring sales people with zero percent charm and ninety-five percent gestapo tendencies. Or maybe the sales girl's boyfriend dumped her and she couldn't stand to be civil. Can't say I blame the boyfriend. Oh, did I say that? Sorry. A little I've-been-told-off-by-a-snippy-sales-girl cattiness. So I smiled at her and put the camera away.Happy Birthday, darling ten-year-old Gamer. You made a good choice. I love your dog and baby Max too. But most of all I love you and so does Grandpa. We love you very much. Happy. happy birthday. And many more.

SIX WORDS FOR CHARMING

Red door, corn, tomatoes, sunflowers, backyardmonstrosity

TOOK SOME PHOTO'S TODAY

A friend of mine, Superwoman, showed me this house yesterday. I think it's charming--I wanted you to see that charming houses are still being built in America.


Superwoman does it all, by the way, she writes like a maniac--a good maniac. She quilts. She knows who designs what fabrics--that is unbelievable. She has two sweet boys. Her photographer husband is funny and charming, like this house, although maybe the house isn't all that funny. Superwoman never stops. Her house always has a new floor, a new wall color, a new interesting doo-dad. She serves gourmet food to friends who stop by to discuss books. She is always changing, learning, growing. She knows a little bit about everything, and a lot about more things that I even know a little bit about. That's why she's Superwoman.

This lovely window box was just around the corner.
And since we're speaking of charming, I think this little pocket garden is charming. As is this one.
And this one too.
And another little house that has a charming fence, all clean and tidy.
This house didn't photograph as well as it looked when I drove by. A neighbor followed me for blocks and blocks, around corners and onto new roads, probably taking down my license plate number in case I was casing the joint. She drove up next to me at a stoplight and I looked over at her, prepared to give her my most innocent smile but when I looked her way she pretended the road in front of her was fascinating and wouldn't look at me. She wasn't even on her cell phone. My best innocent smile, wasted.This garden looked wild but I think it was carefully tended. And then, right around the corner I saw this:I think I will send this person a nice little note, suggesting that a trumpet vine would be a great addition to his back yard sculpture--also known as Backyardmonstrosity.

Don't you think that is a dandy idea?

I always say I'm going to send a little note and then I never do so if someone sends you a little note it was not from me. Unless it was a kind note, and then I'll take the credit.

SIX WORDS FOR THE CHAIR FAIRY'S NEW ADDITION

Free splinters for all who sit.

THE CHAIR FAIRY HAS STRUCK AGAIN

The Chair Fairy has struck again. I think she has lowered her standards. Phil may not bother with a rebuttal. He may have a bonfire, instead.

SIX WORDS FOR WAITING

Could you hurry? Seriously. Could you?

ARE WE DONE YET?

Gilmore Girl, Tuesday, Phil and I went on an excursion the other day. Phil is a no-nonsense sort of a guy and gets right to the point. When it's time to go, it's time to go.

For instance, when it is time to go to church--way early, I might add--he sees no reason to stop and let me put fingernail polish on my nails. Even when he knows I can't go to church with naked nails. He thinks I should have perfume and lipstick on before it's time to go. His life is one big "Hurry up and wait" because he lives with me. Poor fellow.

So, this day of our excursion he finally went outside and waited.
Are we done yet?No, I have to look at the fish. And I have to put my hands down my pants for a minute, too.

Well, we would be done sooner if Waiter Guy didn't walk right in front of me while Grandma is taking my picture.

Silly Waiter Guy. Don't do it again, okay?'Cause if you do I'll have to sneak up and steal one of your fish.

I wonder if we're done yet.

Hi Grandpa, we're done now. Aren't you glad you waited?

Yes. It's always worth the wait, dear Tuesday.

SIX WORDS FOR EXCELLENT THINGS

Raindrops on roses and whiskers on....

SOME EXCELLENT THINGS

1. A young man from a Podunk town in Oregon who is scared to death, but has come to Provo to go to BYU anyway. I hope he does well.

2. Going to the movies--Kung Fu Panda today--with some of my excellent grandkids. Very cute movie and very cute kids.

3. Remembering that Gilmore Girl used to call our Oriental acupuncturist Kung Pao Chicken.

4. Having a story already written for my personal history group and not having to stay up late writing.

5. Having email friends. One is on the run for stealing two steak knives thirty years ago when he was just a young sprout--I've vowed I don't know him but I don't know...if I'm put under the lights I may fess up. Another email friend decided instead of thinking of all the things she wants to change she will think of some things that are excellent as they are. She is the inspiration for this post. Still another email friend sends encouraging words--even from where the deer and the antelope play. She would know that because she's been on the range and everywhere else that her husband, Columbus can drive. And my erratic emailing daughter, Gilmore Girl who will not write a blog and only sends me pithy one-liner emails and I have to call her a Cheeky Monkey. There's a lot of that Cheeky Monkey-ness going around this week, it seems. And last, but not least, a funny friend from the land up north who walked into a pole one day and has never been the same, which is all right by me because she is funny and optimistic and hard working and did I mention funny?

6. Having a husband who eats forty-'leven times a day and stays at his pre-marriage weight. It gives me someone to grumble about and, as we all know, everyone feels better after a good grumble. Thank you Honey for the reason I feel better forty-'leven times a day, multiplied by 365 plus one for leap year.

7. Sleep.

8. Cold weather today, but only if it gets hot again tomorrow.

9. Rain.

10. Toenail polish, which will soon be covered up with socks but it will be there, all winter, anyway. And fingernail polish too, which I am wearing every day for a month until I get sick of having to re-do my nails every two days.

That's it for today. Ten excellent things that I don't need to worry about trying to change.