The tulips are in

I did it.  I planted the tulip bulbs on Halloween day.  Erica gave me a box of them for my birthday and I had to yank a few plants out to get them all in, but I did it and I'm glad.  In the spring, I'll have tulips, beautiful tulips.

Saw the family at Erica's last night, including Sam and Sarah and boys.  The kids went Halloweening; the rest of us ate soup.  Then we went to see High School Musical III.  I may be the only person in my age category to have seen all three high school musicals.  Thank you, Mira, for keeping me up to the moment!

When do we get to see Sarah in her spectacles?

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?

 I vote yes.

Sunday in Kennolyn

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.

Ed for president

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! 

Lanny Berger, dead at 66

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.

20 Questions ala Sarah

1.  What is that smell in the refrigerator?

2. Will I ever poop again?

3.  Is someone downstairs?

4.  How many calories have I eaten today?

5.  Do I really have to get out of bed?

6.  Where is Tom?

7.  Who is Tom?

8.  If you're alone, do you exist?

9.  Is that a wrinkle or a cleft in my head?

10. Isn't cleavage just pressed fat?

11.  Does praying count if you're not on your knees?

12.  Is it possible that I actually like the dog?

13.  Don't I look great in my new boots?

14.  Is this clean or dirty laundry?

15.  Where are my keys?

16.  Why am I so lazy?

17.  Should I get a job?

18.  Am I going bald?

19.  Will I ever do anything of significance again?

20. Will Angela actually marry Andy?

Swimming

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.