WOULDN'T THIS BE FUN, TO OWN THIS?

Now, I ask you, wouldn't this be fun to own? Maybe for just a week or two. It would be a parking nightmare though; maybe you wouldn't be parking it anywhere with lines, like a shopping mall. More likely by corals and fields, with horses and cowboy boots, caked with horse doo doo.

But, it did have such a nice feel, there for a minute, didn't it?

But the horse doo doo? Even with only a single "doo," well, that changes things, doesn't it?

So maybe never mind.

SHOPPING WITH THE DIVAS

Today I went shopping with the Divas.One of the divas loved these shoes. Too bad the mother said no.And no again.Another of the divas loved these shoes and since she's the mother she said yes. She said, "I bought this for you for Christmas." Oh joy. Luckily it will go with my fur lamps.

Then the divas found the sunglasses.

It didn't matter to them that they weren't real sunglasses.Or even on right side up.

"You can have that outfit but you must save it for school."

"SCHOOL? It's only June twenty-fifth!" It was a fun day with the Divas. Call me anytime, girls. I'll meet you for more adventures.

And...in case you are hungry, this salad is on my cookbook blog, here. It doesn't look great, but it is. I promise.

AND THEN THERE WERE NONE

They came to retrieve their dogs. The vacation was fun, they said, but they missed the puppies.

Are we ready to go yet, huh? Huh? Huh?Good-bye dogs. Be good boys.

I'm going to take a little nap on the way home.

This is the hard part, seeing them drive away. And not because of the dogs, either. Well, maybe a little bit because of the dogs, but mostly because of the kids.

And they forgot to take their pineapple. I think they should drive back down and get it.

And go to J-Dawg again.

And Costco--after all twice in two days is hardly enough.

And then they should move here.

"UP," THE MOVIE, AND ALSO A PLACE TO LOOK FOR COMFORT

These little people took me

to the movie "UP" last week. They were delightful.

The movie was delightful, too.

It was funny and a bit sad too.
It had high adventure.
And the cone of shame.

The movie was about friendship and

loyalty but it was about loss, too.

Today was a day of loss for us. A sad day. A day for contemplation and faith in Heavenly Father and believing him when he makes promises.

If you are having a sad day/month/year/life, remember that God loves you and is watching over you. He is sad at your sadness but He knows that everything will be all right, even when it's not. I find it hard to believe some days, like today, but deep in my heart I know it is true.

God loves you. He loves me and my family. He wants us all to be happy. Even when we are sad. Like today.

FUNNY THINGS I SAW TODAY

One of the first things a young boy wants to learn to do--once he learns he is "a man"--is to learn to spit. Have you ever seen a youngster trying to spit? There is no way I could describe it, spit dribbling off the chin, and all. But soon, too soon. they have mastered the skill and, it seems, it never departs.

As evidenced by the retired gentleman I watched today. He shuffled to the mail box. It took a while. Just before he got there--I was now thinking of him as a dear old soul--he spit. So much for the dear old soul, bit. Wow, could that old feller spit.

We drove to Salt Lake today and on the freeway we passed a plumbing van. I was bored and so read all the things written on the back. Just as it got interesting and I was reaching for my camera he took an exit. Here's what it said: "Courteous, Clean, No surprises. We wear belts. Cash back if you see a crack."

This is on my cookbook blog tonight. It was very tasty. Everyone at dinner pronounced it good. And if you are into food storage, most of the ingredients are things you can have in your pantry/basement/bomb shelter or under the bed. Where is your food storage kept?

Mexican Casserole.

PS I couldn't do without tweezers. I explained in the Mexican Casserole post. It is one of the four things I hate about growing old:

1. A turkey gobbler neck

2. Eye Boogers (Do you remember that comic strip in Bloom County where they called Eye Boogers "the great social equalizer?" One of the characters--was it Opus?--said, "even the Pope has them."

3. Dirty eye glasses

4. And chin hairs.

But I should have added #5. Bat wings. Every woman over the age of forty knows what I mean. If you know a remedy please let me know. I could probably sail a good distance.

WHY NO FATHER'S DAY GIFT?

Our ward always presents the mother's with a flower for Mother's Day. It's usually a geranium. One year it was a basil plant. After Sacrament Meeting the Young Men and Young Women bring the flowers in to all the women age 18 and older. My geranium is planted in a pot out front and is blooming nicely.

Here it is:

And here are some of it's buddies:

(These photos were taken in the dark of night and they are terrible but I never seem to plan ahead.)

When Father's Day rolled around this year there was nothing for the fathers in our ward. Years ago I volunteered to make caramels for all the men. I did that for several years. Once I made all of them in one week and was nearly dead by Sunday--the bishop kept saying, "No, Lynne, I can't let you do that." By the time he finally agreed he didn't realize that he put me in a terrible time crunch. The next year I started earlier and the following two years we had ten of the women in the ward help wrap. Those were the easiest years ever.

I think the men enjoy being recognized but the last two years, when I have volunteered to make caramels, I didn't hear back so I assumed there was some other plan. Next year I'm not going to ask. I'm just gong to do it by myself. How's that for feisty? I think the men need to be recognized for their great contribution as father's. Don't you think? I know the women will help me cut and wrap. After all, I think their husbands share.

And then a funny side note. One of these fathers, sitting behind me in Sunday School fell asleep four times during class. He snored! I had to use all my self control to keep from snickering. A little caramel would have kept him awake, I'm sure of it. Not that he would have eaten any during church, but still.

We had a family dinner planned here but it was Phil's first day with the new BYU ward and he was there about eight hours. Plus the weather has been nothing but rain for weeks. So we postponed. We will have a family dinner here in a couple of weeks. The two of us ate dinner and then both of us crashed and slept before Phil had to go back for family prayer so it was a quiet Father's Day for Phil, but a good one. I am very grateful that he is the father of my children and I love him very much. I know the children do too.

Happy late Father's Day to one and all.

A REAL BUMMER.

Today it rained. Again. It's rained almost every day for weeks. But today, because Her Excellency of Mousehole planted acorns out front one year and they sprouted and grew into oak trees and because every tree offers gifts, and our oak trees offer gifts of all kinds, IN ALL SEASONS, along with the maples out back, that also offer gifts, IN ALL SEASONS, our rain gutters were plugged. When they are plugged we are in serious trouble. The water drains onto sidewalk and onto and the water soaked flower gardens and then drains into the basement.

Phil got on the roof with the garden hose to unclog the drains. I stood on the front lawn to take his photo. I had a new photo card in my camera, one with more memory. When I loaded it into the old camera, the one I download to the computer with, the old camera wouldn't read it. So, I will have to quit cheating and learn how to use my new camera to download photos.

Bummer.

I hate bummers.

One of my sons hates bummers too. We now have something in common.

So, there is no photos of Phil--brave man that he is--on the roof in the rain.

This will have to do.

This is a photo of Phil, training the dogs that they belong on the floor. He is very stern, as you can see. The dogs are shaking in their boots. They will never be on a lap again.
Gordon,in all his lap sitting glory, while listening attentively to the lecture, has his eye on something.It's Minkey, who is doing his best to ignore those disobedient, lap sitting dogs.And those dogs? They are really listening well, they'll be off Phil and on the floor, where they belong, any minute now. Yup, any minute. Um hum, really, they will.
Just as soon as they finish their naps.

A PRODUCTIVE HALF HOUR

Tonight I went across the street to see how my neighbor was--her husband was taken to the hospital in an ambulance this morning. He is much better--he has pneumonia.

Then I thought of my Healthy Living Group and the commitment I made to walk five days a week. So I walked around the neighborhood.

Then I saw another neighbor unloading "stuff" for a garage sale tomorrow morning for the Cub Scouts. I went by to see if I could help and spied three bikes, which I bought at the pre-garage sale.

Tonight was a three-fer: A visit with a neighbor. Good news about her husband.

A walk to keep my promise.

Bikes for the grandkids to ride when they visit. (I went to the movie "Up" with some of those grandkids today. It was such fun to be with them and the movie was top notch.)

I have always been a night owl, getting more done late in the day than any other time. Maybe tomorrow night I'll actually get my new chapter out of my head and on the computer.

SCARY STAIRS

Couldn't you write a delicious

story about these scary stairs?

Me too.

GOING GREEN

Some of our grandchildren

take "going green" seriously.

Some take to totally seriously.
And some find it a total snore.

WHAT CAN'T YOU LIVE WITHOUT?

Tonight was Enrichment. Our theme was, What Can't You Live Without? The only restriction was you couldn't say your family or the scriptures. Those were a given. We had to bring what we couldn't live without in a paper bag so no one could see. We were then given 30 seconds to tell about it. It was a fun evening. The variety of what people can't live without was amazing. Our new Enrichment Leader did a fantastic job of organizing and making sure everything got done. Our food committee, ditto and everyone who helped make this evening a success, how I love them all.

What can't you live without?

MERRY CHRISTMAS, YOU WEIRDO

On Saturday, Gilmore Girl and I were shopping in two consignment shops. Home Again and Home Again 2, in Salt Lake City.

Home Again is on 1019 East 2100 South. Home Again 2 is found at 7490 Holden Street--on the way to Gardner Village. They have some very cute things in both stores. If you live in the area you should put them on your "to check out" list.


In Home Again Gilmore Girl found these delightful things. "I bought those for you for Christmas," she said.


I'm beyond thrilled.

SO, HOW DO I DO IT ALL?

Saturday I was in Salt Lake (not the actual lake, you know) with my daughter, Gilmore Girl, and I saw this neat-o set of steps. Immediately I had almost a complete story pop into my head. How do I finish the manuscript I'm working on, go back to the two that are half finished and write this new one?

And dust.

And cook.

And read blogs.

And do laundry.

And do my church job.

And, and, and....

PS Gilmore girl, send me the photo of the neat-o stairs and the photo of my my Christmas presents so I can share their furry beauty with the world.

CHECK OUT THE RHUBARB FRUIT LEATHER

If you want to make fruit leather but a quart or two of berries are just too expensive, consider this: rhubarb leather. The rhubarb is free, the sugar isn't expensive and neither is Kool Aid®.

Click here to get the recipe.

THINGS I DO WHILE WAITING FOR MY COMPUTER TO GET OVER ITS TANTRUMS

I pluck various hair in various spots on my face. They are black. They have no right to grow there. They must go. “I refuse to think of them as chin hairs. I think of them as stray eyebrows." (Janette Barber)

I sigh.

I paint my nails.

I press Alt-Tab.

Because I pressed Alt-Tab, in a sloppy angry way, I have to repaint my nails.

I drum my fingers on the keys.

I floss my teeth.

I get up and clean the cat box, thinking that by the time I get back the computer will be over its temper tantrum. Usually it is still holding its breath.

Because I cleaned the cat box with wet nails, I repaint.

I watch a rerun of "House."

After House has saved the person from leprosy or some other interesting disease I come back, and if the computer is functioning I have forgotten the story--email--blog and then I sigh and complain.

And then I go to bed. It is 1:00 AM. Or maybe 2:00.

TWINS

Sometime today, at the BYU Writer's for Young Readers Conference, these words came to me:

"She is as thin as dental floss."

Where that came from, I don't know. But, when you are around creative people odd things happen. You start to look at things in a different way. I love this conference. I love Claudia Mills. I love my class mates--boy, can they write. I will be sad when this conference is over for another year.

I had a two minute window of unfrantic busyness today, I was probably waiting for a lecture to begin so this is what I wrote:


She was thin, dental floss thin. Some of her internal organs were missing. At night she is hooked up to machines that softly beep in the darkness as they process the food that has been waiting in her patient stomach. In the morning she stretches, unhooks from the friendly beepers and runs her hands down her flat stomach. She smiles.

Her twin has all her organs and her sisters too. Two livers. Four kidneys. 56 feet of intestines. The intestines are usually full as her body squeezes every bit of nutrition from every mouthful of food. If the planet depended on her "fertilizer" to jump-start the world's vegetables we would all be dead within months.

Twins. So alike and yet so different. One has a great abundance of all the things that make the human body run properly and yet it's her sister who wears a size zero. The organ-deprived sister shops three days a week and the other four she accepts dates from lovely men.

The organ-rich sister? She writes.

I SHOULDN'T BE BLOGGING

I shouldn't be blogging. I'm dead on my feet. I still have manuscripts to read before my Writer's for Young Reader's class tomorrow. Claudia Mills is my teacher and she's fabulous. If you ever "do" Writer's for Young Readers and Claudia is teaching you should be in her class. She is also nice. How can anyone be so nice? Nice and talent sometimes don't go together but she makes it work. And she's a philosophy professor at University of Colorado. So she's smart, talented, nice and funny. She got several people's talent and they are left with only their bodily functions, functioning. Probably.

I follow 42 blogs plus there are several more I check daily that don't have the "follower" feature, but I only read three tonight. I read my daughter's , because she's my daughter and she blogged about me, my daughter-in-laws, because I love her like a daughter and then there is Shan, who's title pulled me right in: The Three Pound Poop. I had to read that one. I looked at all the others with longing but had to save them for tomorrow.

Lord Bumhampton had a friend once who had a similar problem as Shan's little friend. He left an offering in the downstairs toilet. It wouldn't flush. That is the honest truth. It was impressive! It wouldn't flush for many times. He was a good sport about it and later told me, "All my family have the same problem but we solved it. We now take fiber!"

So, if you have a poopage problem, take a little fiber. And if you don't you should probably write something. Or blog. Or be a philosophy professor. Or at least be nice.

And when this week is over I have another Mrs. Bird story to tell you. Stay tuned.

PS I probably shouldn't say the word, "poop" on a blog should I? When I typed it into the "labels" I see I've talked about it before. I really should repent. Probably.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME

How many candles? "Set the da** thing on fire!" (Movie, Murphy's Romance)

A friend sent me to this web site. You type in your birth date and it gives you a bunch of useless, but interesting, information.

For instance, in Spanish my name means "pretty," but in German it means, "snake!"

Other useless facts:

My number is 11. The number 11 is associated with idealistic concepts and rather spiritual issues. Accordingly, it is a number with potentials that are somewhat more difficult to live up to. (That's right. I want to be idealistic but the spirit of nonsense keeps getting in the way.) You have the capacity to be inspirational, and the ability to lead merely by your own example. (Right again, many a unsuspecting follower has found themselves someplace they didn't know they were going.)

The positive aspect of the number 11 expression is an always idealistic attitude. Your thinking is long term, (darn right) and you are able to grasp the far-reaching effects of actions and plans. (That's right. I'm planning a hostage takeover--everyone will be forced to come with me on a nonsense trip to do nonsensical things. Like checking out all the restaurants that make good chocolate cake. We will have a rating system. And we will eat cake many times. The far reaching effects will be laughter and fun--and probably pounds but let's not think of that right now. Well, the Scottish Dreamer won't gain any--she inhales eclairs by the half dozen and never gains an ounce.)

Who could resist this?

I can boil 7.31 ounces of water with the candles on my cake. With all those candles I can probably heat the whole house. So, if you're cold--it's cold, here in Utah today--come on over, I'll light the candles and warm you right up.

And we'll eat cake.

THE SPEED EATER

If I didn't know better I'd think the Scottish Dreamer and Mrs. Bird were sisters. A few days ago the Scottish Dreamer bought eclairs for dinner and...oh, you just have to go read it yourself. The Scottish Dreamer is a Speed Eater.

I may not be blogging much. The computer is having a identity crisis. It thinks it's a smelly armpit. A real "turn off" if there ever were one. And that's what it does. Turns its self off. Continually.

When it's not turning its self off it thinks it's a husband whose wife had a list of things that need to be done around the house. It ignores commands.

It also thinks it's the smaller side of a side-by-side fridge. It freezes.

So, if I don't check your blogs and comment it's not because I didn't want to. I probably have sweaty armpits and have icicles hanging off my nose while holding a deaf mouse.

It could be worse. This I know but.... But, for a blogger and wanna-be writer, who has a writing convention next week, and doesn't have her chapters edited yet, I wonder how.

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.

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.