MISSING MOM

Tonight Phil and I watched the movie The Peaceful Warrior--I highly recommend it. Because of that, it's late and I'm not up to much cleverness--as usual, actually--I don't have any of Mrs. Bird's or The Scottish Dreamer's stories--Mrs. Bird was here on the lawn swings last night but I didn't get any good stories--it was so darn cold we could hardly talk--and I'm out of nonsense to blather about. So, I'm posting a thought I wrote the other day about my mom when I was missing her. The "missing her" seems to be coming more often now. Anyway, here it is:


First and Last

A daughter first, and at the end.
She'll gather me like a child,
with skinned knees.
"I've been misssing you," she'll say.
"Me too," I'll say and over her shoulder I'll see my two dads,
my sister, and the children I never knew.

And it will begin.

THE EINSTEIN AWARD

Story one:

A man in our ward was talking to a client the other day. "I have a new cell phone and a new number," he said. "Let me find my the phone and I'll give you the number. Hold on." He then proceeded to try and find the new phone. It wasn't in his office/studio, which is next door to his house. Maybe it was in the house. He kept the man on the line while he searched. Not in the bedroom. Not in the kitchen. Not in the house office. He tried the car. It wasn't in the car. He was frustrated. He looked by the pool. He looked everywhere he could think of. "I'll have to call you back when I find it," he said and went to hang up and found he was talking on the new cell phone.

Story two:

A friend of mine had misplaced her cell phone. She looked everywhere. She had a deadline and needed to leave the house soon. Then she had a brilliant idea, I'll call my cell phone from the home phone, and when it rings I'll be able to find it. So, she called her cell phone. All of a sudden, from across the room her cell phone rang. This irritated her. Now just who could that be! she thought. I don't give my cell phone number to ANYONE.

Story three:

My mom had a friend who went upstairs for something. When she got up there she couldn't remember what it was. She wandered in and out of all the bedrooms, hoping something would jog her memory. Finally she thought, I guess I'll have to go downstairs and see if I can remember. So she went all the way back downstairs and into the kitchen where she was before she went upstairs. And then she remembered. She had gone upstairs to have a nap.

This same friend was taking care of her elderly dad. She kept track of his medications. One pill was for his memory loss, another for arthritis, another for some other condition. There were about six pills in all. She went into the kitchen, got all of the pills he was supposed to take, ran a glass of water and took them herself.

CLAM CHOWDER AND A FLOWER

We went to our son's house for dinner tonight--the best clam chowder. Thank you, Taylor.

After dinner we checked out the garden and a poor sunflower had fallen over so I took one of the blooms home. What could be better for a summer evening: good food, a beautiful bloom and then home to sit on the lawn swings with a neighbor.

But it's freezing here tonight. Not real freezing, not the ice-forming kind, but really cold for August 15th. The low tonight is going to be about 50 degrees. That's 10 Celsius. I'm going to go put a hot brick in my bed now.

Not much of a post, is this? Not funny or even very interesting. So, imagine you open your door and find a sunflower like this greeting you. Mother Nature saying, "Here, I made this just for you. You are loved. Really, really loved." And you are.

Feel better, now?

HOMEMADE BREAD FOR THE NEW NEIGHBORS. OR MAYBE NOT.

Today I decided to make bread because good bread--from Great Harvest--is now over four dollars a loaf. Plus we have new neighbors and I wanted to take them a hot loaf of welcome-to-the-neighborhood bread. Plus Phil says my bread is "the best." (His direct, unsolicited quote.)

First--I had to clean the wheat grinder because--after last year's two failures in a row--it's been a year since I made bread.

Second--I had to grind the wheat.

Third--I had to make the darn bread but because someone called me on the phone while I was making bread--don't you love it when people call and DON'T say, "Is this a good time?"--I forgot to add the oil, lemon juice, sugar and salt. So I had to add it later and hope it mixed in properly.

Fourth--I didn't add enough flour

Fifth--I forgot to turn off the oven--after preheating for one minute--so the bread could rise in the nice warm, but not hot oven--and so the oven heated to the full 350 degrees and because of that I had to leave the oven door open--thank-you air conditioning for cooling my 350 degree kitchen--until the oven returned to barely warm.

Sixth--I let it rise to the top of the pans before I turned the oven on to 350 degrees.

Seventh--I had a nagging feeling of failure--add more flour my nagging feeling said--before I baked the bread but I was NOT taking the risen dough out and adding more flour because I was sick of bread dough at this point. I still had bread making utensils to wash in hot soapy water in a 350 degree kitchen and the wheat grinder to clean so I squelched my nagging feelings and they limped away but just before they turned the corner I think I heard them say, "You'll be so-rry."

Eighth--The bread was too wet--not enough flour--and it fell and is now 2 1/2 inches tall. I can't take squatty-Pygmy bread to a new neighbor because I don't want her to look at me with squinty eyes the rest of my life.

Ninth--Great Harvest's bread is pre-made. What a concept. And they only charge four dollars and something a loaf. And you are sane when you go there and buy it. And your kitchen remains cool. And there is nothing to wash.

I wonder if the neighbors like caramels because I think I have some in the freezer.

Why didn't I think of that earlier?

DINNER WITH THE SHOE-HOLICS

Tonight Shan and Gilmore Girl came in from Mongolia and Outer Mongolia to get a J-Dawg and hang out on the lawn swings for a while. But the weather had different ideas--rain by the buckets full. We ended up at Heaps, which certainly isn't any hardship.

My life won't be worth a plug nickle when they see this picture.

At one point they talked about shoes. Did you know there are eight minute shoes? Those are shoes you can wear for eight minutes without pain. Hour long shoes? Those you can give a Relief Society lesson in--Shan wears these on the 2nd Sunday of the month when it's her turn to give the lesson.. All day pumps. But, obviously, according to Shan, they are comfy but not up to much in the style department. Gilmore Girl had toe surgery just so she could wear a certain pair of shoes! They have bought shoes that they can't even wear because they love them so much.

That makes my Clark's hide in shame. Comfy, comfy shame. No photo of the Clark's as they are shy and the above are not. I don't want them to be intimidated.

I HAVE NOTHING TO SAY

I have nothing to say so I'm going to bed.

My bed, with the yummy topper.

And my four pillows. I tried sleeping with three but four is the right number because two of them end up on the floor. Why don't I sleep with just two then? Because four is the right number.

I've already brushed my teeth and cleaned my face and put on the lavender lotion that my daughter-in-law makes. It smells so clean and go-to-sleepish.

'll open the window to the cool night air. And turn the fan on, mostly for the "white noise." Maybe the garbage trucks won't wake me in the morning.

I'll say my prayers--like a good girl--and read my scriptures and write the short note I'm promised to write in a journal. It won't be very witty or wise because I have nothing to say.

I'll listen to the crickets. I hope that evil cricket-eating insect doesn't come back this year to clean the oak trees out. I know he needs dinner too, but I want him to dine somewhere else. Far away.

And then I'll snuggle down and go to sleep. Lovely, quiet sleep. How I love it.

So, until tomorrow, when brilliance visits me, I'll say good night.

And if brilliance doesn't visit me, I will have nothing to say.

Sweet dreams.

TODAY I SHOULD BE BURIED ALREADY SO I CHANGED MY ATTITUDE AND NOW I'LL NEVER DIE. ALMOST.

I checked the Death Clock website today and found that I should have died on my birthday this year. I had zero days to live, in fact, I should be mouldering in my grave.

So I changed my outlook from "pessimistic" to "optimistic" and found that I have loads of time left. I'm going to live to be 101, three months and ten days.* Who knew that happy, cheerful people live longer?

So, then I decided to loose a whole bunch of weight--theoretically--and I am supposed to die sooner. Ten years sooner.

If I am a pessimist and thin I should be dead already.

If I am a sadist and thin I should have been dead twenty-four years ago.

The conclusion: Optimistic, fat people live the longest.

I hope this makes your day.


*I have a feeling my first "optimistic" statistics are somehow skewed but I am not redoing them. Since I've decided to be an optimist, I'm believing it. Why not? It could happen. Yup, that's how us optimists think.

"An optimist is the human personification of spring." (Susan J. Bissonette)

DIDN'T COOK FOR THE KIDS

When the kids were here I should have cooked three meals. The first night they went to Heaps. I had a roaring--yes, roaring--toothache and didn't go with them.

Saturday night we ate dinner at our son's house. Tooth continued to roar but I had pain pills which kept it to a dull roar. Recipes soon.

Sunday night we ate dinner at our daughter's house. The yummiest chef salad and hot dogs--seems like an odd combination but it was divine. Watermelon and zucchini brownies, which I will be making soon--I won't be making watermelon, so calm down. Watch for the brownie recipe on my coookbook site, too. Soonish. Soonish is a term that could mean a few days to months. Toothache roared on and off. I popped pills on and off.

I took my camera this time and didn't take it out of my purse. Maybe whatever is wrong with me can be cured. With chocolate. I'm sure of it. And that may be a clue why I have a roaring toothache. I'll try to block it out of my mind.

We called one of our grandson's today and sang "Happy Birthday" to him. Following the singing--and I use the word "singing" loosly here--was much silence on the line. Phil thinks we are torturing the kids with our singing and it may be true. Our grandson wants to go to lunch and a movie but I'm not sure I can sit through Ice Age 3 again, my being scared and all, when we took the six year old. It's humiliating as he wasn't. Scared, that is. So, I hope the eight-year-old picks Harry Potter although Harry scares me too. I'll need chocolate to get through it. Maybe even a pain pill.

I seem to be scared of a lot of things but not my dentist, who cured the roaring toothache. He walks on water, I'm pretty sure of it. Dr. Prince, in Orem, if anyone has a toothache, locally. Well, of course your toothache is going to be locally--locally, right in your mouth. But if you live near Orem/Provo then...you know what I mean.

I should not blog late at night.

I'VE BEEN RELEASED

Whew. I've been in charge of a monthly dinner/program/activity for the sisters in my ward for what seems like a lifetime. Seven years ago I was made the Enrichment Leader. (The real title is Home, Family and Personal Enrichment.) That is when we had Enrichment every month. When I would get home at night I could hardly walk. I would call Phil from the driveway and he would come and help me bring "stuff" in. Things like all the tablecloths that needed to be washed, decorations, food preparations items, whatever else I had drug to the church to make things nice.

I was the Enrichment Leader for three years and then was made Enrichment Counselor. I served three months shy of four years in that calling. Today our presidency was released. I can turn the keys to the church along with keys to umpteen closets over to the new counselor.

It was a good time and I worked with wonderful sisters who always willingly did their part. We did great things, had fun, learned things, served delicious meals and drew closer together as friends.

I enjoyed it.

And, I have to admit, I'm exhausted.

WAY TO GO, EINSTEIN,

When someone does a stupid thing or an absentminded one, people say, "Way to go, Einstein!" I keep having these Einstein moments.

We went to dinner tonight at my son and daughter-in-laws house. Wonderful food. Kung Pao chicken with rice, salad with Caesar dressing, a wonderful bean salad, and carrot cake, that only had like a million calories. I will post the recipes on my cookbook site when he sends them. But there will be no accompanying pictures, because I left my camera home.

While we were there our daughter-in-law--who went on that hundred and eleven mile bike ride today--did some yoga to work out the stiffness. She's like a rubber doll, so help me she is. It was beautiful to watch her stretch and amazing how flexible she is. Pictures? No, because I left my camera home.

While we were there my other son and daughter-in-law--who also rode the hundred and eleven mile bike ride--came. Tired but exhilarated. Did I get a picture? No, because...you know the rest.

Way to go, Einstein. It seems I never learn.

Are there things you never learn? Please tell me what so I won't feel so alone, like Einstein, on a wobbly bike while the rest of the world whizzes by on Titanium.

ENOUGH SAID

Nurse Giggleswich and Lord Bumhampton are here. Tomorrow they are going on the U.L.C.E.R (Utah Lake Century Epic Ride) bike ride. It's one hundred and eleven miles. Oh my.

Our living room is full of bikes, bike equipment and dogs.

L.B. said, "Oh, you know what we forgot? Under the saddle bike bags."

N.G. said, "No we didn't. I brought them." And then she paused and in a quiet voice she said, "Because I'm a woman."

That just about says it all.

TAI CHI IN OUR HEALTHY LIVING CLASS

In our Healthy Living class tonight, Sarah--a woman I adore--taught us Tai Chi. Women, past the cute stage, doing Tai Chi? A comedy. Comedy or not, I feel better.

You should try it. You really should. You'll feel better and get a whole bunch of good laughs, all at the same time.

PS We didn't even have to wear pajamas!

WHAT'S YOUR PASSION?

This week I'm working on a chapter--for my YA novel--that I have simply titled "Passion."

Did you know what you were passionate about when you were twelve? Are they the same things that they are now?

My obvious passions are my religion and my family. Here are some minor ones:

THE STORY. It's always about the story and has always been so. Even commercials on TV have a story. My favorite is the Arby's "last day of school" one where the faculty is just as happy to be out of school as the kids and they all end up at Arby's. I have it recorded and watch it several times in a row. It cheers me up.

PLUCKING MY WHISKERS STRAY EYEBROWS: They shall not live.

FINGERNAIL POLISH: On September 1st I will have worn it every day for a year.

THE COMPUTER: I can read the story, compose the story, and keep in touch with my friends. Not Facebook. Not Twitter. Just email, which I love.

SLEEP: I just need to get some earlier.

LUNCH OUT WITH FRIENDS: Where I hear their stories and tell them mine.

MOVIES: Again, the story. And the popcorn.

CLEAN HANDS, CLEAN FACE: Repentance for the soul, soap for the face. And my daughter-in-law's lavender lotion, which I put it on my face and then put my hands to my nose and breathe deep for a full minute. Then I go to sleep happy.

That's enough for tonight.

What are your passions?

THERE SHOULD BE MORE REJOICING OVER THE ANNOYANCES

I called someone tonight and they couldn't find the phone until it had gone into the "leave a message" mode. This someone said, in an annoyed voice, "My 'wife or husband' (I'm not telling which) had the phone in the bathroom for some crazy (or stupid or insane--I can't remember exactly what she/he said) reason."

Unfortunately, I think that may have been recorded for the wife/husband to hear later.

Why didn't she/he say, "My wife/husband left the phone in the bathroom again because she/he loves to commune with Mother Nature," and then laughed about it. Or she/he could have said something way more witty than that. (It wouldn't be hard to be more witty than that.)

Why don't we joke with our spouses more? Why is everything serious? Why are we annoyed? Why aren't we charmed that the phone was in the bathroom? Why didn't she/he realize it was in the bathroom because it was the only place for some privacy?

Why isn't there more laughter? Why aren't we fun?

I want to be fun. I like fun. I think I'll sign up for fun lessons. Does anyone know how to do that?

So I googled "fun" and this is what I got. I guess it'll do. For now.

CAKE AND COOKIES

Tonight I whipped up a cake, we called a couple of neighbors, and we had Family Home Evening on the lawn swings. Toward the end a bunch of teenagers--in two cars and a motorcycle--roared up and delivered these cookies. They were from the BYU ward Phil serves in. Yesterday in one of their meeting they talked about the kids serving others. So, today we got cookies! I have a feeling the Bishop and his two counselors got cookies too. I made a cake that I got off Muum's Musings and served it after our lawn swings lesson. It was delicious. Recipe here.

It was so pleasant to have neighbors over. I love them all.

We had a couple of youth here, one eighteen years old and one a returned missionary and they both refused cake and ice cream! Amazing. Then our newest returned missionary--he served in South Africa--, came by to tell his mom he was going for a run. He refused cake too. "That would defeat the purpose of the run," he said.

So the youth are healthy and the rest of us...let's not even think about it.

BLOOMING, EVEN WHEN YOU ARE PLANTED UNDER A ROCK

Actually, this is a pretty good analogy. Lots of people are in situations they hate don't like. Bad marriages. Poverty. Having disabled children or needing to care for elderly parents. Needing to loose weight and not being able to--I understand that one. Depression. Allergies. Poor health with all it's accompanying horrors. Migraines. The list is endless. (I'd say baldness but I think Phil looks wonderful so I think baldness is a good thing.)

Do we complain? Wish for other situations? Envy other people who we perceive have it better? Or do we get down to work and do what has to be done? I wish I could say I do the latter. But sometimes I do the first. (I've learned not to envy others because I've learned they are dealing with "stuff" that I have no idea about.)

Here's my visual aid for dealing with "whatever":


This is the front of our house. Our flowers did well this year. Our best year yet.
On the far right I had pots of flowers but as the oak trees leaves got bigger and bigger the flowers had to be moved into the sunlight.

This little handmade planter was not even planted as I knew the chances of anything blooming were slim. But, the planter had it's own idea. It sprouted a little petunia and the petunia is growing bigger every week.

But the real miracle is the two naked lady bulbs you see growing, one right next to the planter and the other, behind. I dug every single bulb earlier this year. These two bulbs are under this planter. They found their way out and are going to bloom. If that's not a positive attitude I'll eat my hat.

May we all bloom, wherever we are, whatever we are dealing with. The bloom doesn't have to be spactular. Just a little sign that life is okay. Even though it's not.

An eight year old girl I'll call Mary--because that's her name--summed it up nicely today as she bore her testimony. She said her daddy told her, "Jesus will make everything all right in the end."

And he will. He's promised.

SHOULDN'T THERE BE RETRIBUTION?

This afternoon I was home alone. I was making some Asian salad dressing and had the blender running. All of a sudden I heard a horribly loud noise and the floor shook. I screamed and turned around to flee when I see Phil standing there, stomping and grinning.

"I didn't want to scare you," he said, "by saying 'hi.' You know how you are, you get scared when I talk to you."

Yes, I do, when I think I'm home alone and all of a sudden someone is talking to me. But a loud-noise-floor-shaking experience? That's not scary?

There should be retribution.

ANNOYING OR QUIRKY?

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.

MORE NAKEDNESS

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.

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.

THE SCOTTISH DREAMER INVITES A NAKED STRANGER TO BREAKFAST

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."

Nothing.

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.

THEY'RE B-A-A-CK

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.

I SANG ALTO TODAY AND I CAN'T SING ALTO

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.

DID YOU KNOW?

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?

I THOUGHT I WAS GOING TO DIE TODAY

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.

WHAT A FIVE YEAR OLD KNOWS

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. 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!

SOOTHING MY COMPUTER'D SOUL

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

THINGS WERE BETTER THAN I THOUGHT

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.

OQUIRRH MOUNTAIN TEMPLE OPEN HOUSE

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.

WEEPING OVER YOU

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.

AND THE WINNER IS...

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 yet...it 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?

1st soldier with a keen interest in birds: Who goes there?

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!

1st soldier with a keen interest in birds: Pull the other one!

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.

1st soldier with a keen interest in birds: What? Ridden on a horse?

King Arthur: Yes!

1st soldier with a keen interest in birds: You're using coconuts!

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!

1st soldier with a keen interest in birds: Am I right?

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]

Large Man with Dead Body: Here's one.

The Dead Collector: That'll be ninepence.

The Dead Body That Claims It Isn't: I'm not dead.

The Dead Collector: What?

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

The Dead Body That Claims It Isn't: I'm not dead.

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

Large Man with Dead Body: Yes he is.

The Dead Body That Claims It Isn't: I'm not.

The Dead Collector: He isn't.

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

The Dead Body That Claims It Isn't: I'm getting better.

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.

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

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

The Dead Collector: I can't.

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.

Large Man with Dead Body: Right.