Friday, November 27, 2009
Thursday, November 26, 2009
I’m writing this from my kitchen island. I have boiled yams, made a pumpkin-chiffon pie and I’m about to cut up carrots for the Carrot Puffs that I hope will fool my youngest grandchildren into thinking they’re eating dessert. I will cut the ends off the string beans tonight. The table is set with china and silver and yellow flowers. (See the place tag above—Tom did his Photoshop magic with the one card I bought at Target). We bought a high chair for Louis, and a push button Elmo phone that talks back, and a yellow truck that also makes noise of some kind when you thump on it.
Most of my preparations have been for four-year old Elliot, who LOVES to watch movies, especially anything with Thomas the Train in it. So I made him a corner in the upstairs hall with colored pillows, one of them I embroidered with “Elliot’s Corner” on it. There’s a red IKEA table with a TV/VCR on it and a stool that I painted red and blue in case he doesn’t want to sit on the floor. There’s a yellow circle rug, and seven—count them—seven Thomas the Train DVDs.
Maybe, I’m over medicated.
Here’s a few things I’m thankful for this Thanksgiving in no particular order:
1. The boys, their wives, their kids. Who knew it would be so good?
2. Hot hot water whenever I want it.
3. Thank you, Lord, for helping me lose those fifty pounds and keeping them off.
5. Two working cars.
6. Saturdays in the temple
7. Virtual friends on the blogosphere
8. Anne’s German “parents,” Herbert and Josa, who love her like we do.
9. My writers’ group.
10. The anticipation of 10-days in NYC over the holidays.
So what are you thankful for today? And if something went terribly wrong, I’d really like to hear about that too. I love to hear about things going askew, like Rebecca’s horrible cranberry pear pie. Thanksgiving 2009. Sublime or something else?
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
This morning, Tom awoke and said, “Do I have something on my head?”
I bent reluctantly over him to have a look. I have no stomach for odd skin growths. There was a small, slightly discolored, slightly raised circle on the top of his head.
“You probably ought to have it checked,” I said, not all that alarmed.
About an hour later, the dermatologist’s office calls to say that Dr. Parkinson has two openings in a couple of hours. Do we want them? I don’t, but Tom goes.
Tom hadn’t phoned them. They called out of the blessed blue. I love that kind of sychronicity.
Later, Tom calls me on the cell, which identifies him as Basilio Filbert—we don’t know why—and tells me it was squamous—rhymes with pus. It’s the second most common skin cancer but is very fast growing, and he found it early.
When he gets home, he looks at Squamous Cell Carconomas on the internet. One old man has about a fourth of his head chopped out. One has a huge one on his anus. A woman has a large one on her vulva. Tom wants me to see all of these photographs, but I won’t have it. He holds up his laptop, “You should see this!”
“Get away from me,” I said.
Years ago, my father wanted to show everyone an MRI of his blocked colon.
“No thanks,” I said.
“No thanks,” said my sister.
“Uhh, no,” said my brother.
“I’d like to see it,” Tom said.
The two of them walked out of the room like guys heading for a beer.
Please note that I spared you an image.
Monday, November 16, 2009
Thursday, November 12, 2009
Saturday, November 7, 2009
Thursday, November 5, 2009
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
This weekend we sold the grand piano. The youngish couple who bought it live in Orem and they came up nine o' clock Saturday morning with the piano mover to pick it up. It left quite a hole in the living room. Even though Tom and I had to be in the temple ready to work at 11:10, I called Charles immediately, still wet from my bath, and told him to come over and help Tom move a sofa from the basement. We moved the demilune cabinet between the two windows, and the sofa where the cabinet had been. Now we have two white sofas facing each other.