Will she look like Tina Fey or Groucho Marx? Will she look over the top of them? Will Elliot get to try them on? Will Olive? Are the frames thick or thin? Is the glass tinted or plain? Shouldn't there be a picture of her on her blog wearing her new glasses?
It is Sunday and Tom and I are in our "Founders Cottage" in Kennolyn Camp which is just outside Santa Cruz California. Wendy Wirthlin gets married at 3:30 this afternoon up on the hill, where I hear we will have a view of the Pacific Ocean. Nice. We are surrounded by redwoods and other evergreens all smelling deliciously piney. There's a pool and tennis courts, volleyball courts, a barn with rabbits and Vietnamese potbellied pigs. People live in cottages that look like a barber's store from the front or the post office, so it looks like a small western village. Plenty of places to roam around. We made smores by a fire last night and then Tom and I watched "Lady in White" a Masterpiece Theater production that we had with us (netflix).
The night before last we stayed in Carson City, Nevada which is a homey place (and where Ed spent 5 months of his mission). We drove from there around Lake Tahoe and onto California: an absolutely breathtaking drive and one we'd never done before. Car trips are enoromously satisfying when the scenery is beautiful and changing along the way. It's short, but we feel like we're on vacation.
My second son, Ed, has announced his candidacy for president, and aside from a few grammatical glitches, he is eminently qualified. His running mate is a short Mexican man known as Cheeto Bandito, who is actually an American citizen. Wow, way to go Cheeto! (We're still fact-checking). I will be travelling across America for the next couple of weeks raising money for my little boy. My top-of-the-line metal detector should bring in a real chunk of change. To see his platform go to http//smellsfunny.typepad.com. At last a man for the people!
I remember you, Lanny Berger. You were the fat kid, so shy, you could barely speak. In fifth grade, your appendix burst and you were in the hospital for weeks. Mrs. Nelson said they had you on a bed of ice to keep your fever down. Did she make that up? A bed of ice? You were the kid who always asked me to dance at Emigration Ward dances. I still see you walking toward me, feet pointed out slightly, your upper legs chafing against each other with each step. You weren't my first choice or even my third, but there was something always likable about you.
I never knew you with a moustache. The last time I saw you was when you came home from basic training, clean shaven short hair. You were nineteen. You came to the house bearing gifts: a necklace (a heart on a thin chain?) It was my first awareness of someone's unrequited love for me and made me sad. You wanted to see Dean Collett and I drove you to his house in Rose Park and picked you up later and drove you home. That's our history together. Did I ever write you a letter? I have no idea.
I'm glad you found true love with a woman who found you gentle and loving, that you had children, two dogs, and that you loved to hunt and fish. I'm glad you had lots of friends. Your death has surprised me with emotion. I remember you, Lanny Berger. I remember.
I'm swimming and I've finally got the breathing right on the front crawl. Wednesday, I swam 15 laps, which I thought was a half mile. It turns out that 16 laps is a mile in a 50 meter pool. If I'd known that, I would have pushed myself another lap. My goal is to swim two miles a day. I'm 66 and I can swim. I can. I can.
So I took the unwanted ugly clothes to the D.I. today, and while I was there, I decided to shop-- remembering my stylish friend, Dean Duvander who bought ALL of his clothes at D.I. He had a good eye and was a patient shopper. So I bought a khaki skirt and a denim vest--very classic and my favorite casual wear, barely worn. Nine bucks. Now I need a pair of brown boots. I'm determined not to pay much for them. There was a wonderful red Ralph Lauren blazer for ten bucks, but it was too small. There was also a red coat for twenty dollars, which I'm thinking about overnight. D.I. rocks!
Last winter in New York when I was disgusted with my vasty hips and mammoth hams, I collected all the clothes that were then too small for me and stuffed them into a green bag to take to Goodwill. This included four expensive blazers and an Austen Reed suit that I loved.
The bag was much too large to carry on the subway and I stuck it into the front hall closet waiting for the day when Tom and I would drive down Broadway to Washington Heights and make our delivery. And I thought we did just that.
"I think it's all in a big box in the garage," Tom said to me last week."
"I don't think so," I said.
Today I went out and opened the box. All my clothes were in it. Clothes I thought I would never wear again. I tried them on one after the other: gray wool flannel pants, a navy blue blazer with gold buttons, my Talbots silk shirt, a black velvet vest with red and green embroidered roses on it that I bought at Utah Woolen Mills and is perfect for the holidays; my Austen Reed suit, a red blazer and more. I fit into my wonderful clothes!
It was my reward for being disorganized, for procrastinating. Grasshoppers: 1. Ants: 0
Jonathan and Julie drove down from Boise with Katelyn this conference weekend to make an announcement, which was emblazoned on Katelyn's t-shirt. We were too dimwitted to see it. Later, Charles and Erica and family came over, along with Sam and Sarah and the boys to celebrate Katelyn's third birthday. Sam spotted the message. Congratulatory hoo haws all around. I'll let them post the t-shirt themselves.
I did not take the important pictures: Katelyn opening presents, blowing out the candles, eating the cake, feeding the ducks and just being all around cute. Saved by Photo Booth yet again.