One Hundred Words

That's it. I've been sitting in front of this computer screen for close to two hours and all I have to show for it is about 100 words. How can it be that something so much a part of me, something that screams to be heard--can be so much like pulling teeth some days?! I feel like whoever it was (a name you would recognize) who, the story is told, was found distraught one day and asked, "How many words did you get today?" He said something like "five" and then wailed, "But I don't know what order they go in."

But I'm so close! I've passed my 60,000 word goal, the characters are converging and the plot is winding down. Why is it so hard now?

P.S. I have yet to hear a single title suggestion . . .

Family Reunion at Bear Lake

The Ferris Wheel Ride

The carnival came to town last week. I was running errands with my 88 year old mother when she saw it spread over what used to be the library lawn. "I always loved the carnival," she said.

A day or so later we were traveling the same road when she commented on the carnival again.
"Wouldn't it be fun to ride the ferris wheel again."

"Would you do it?" I asked. She didn't answer.

And so Saturday afternoon, we kidnapped Mom and Dad and took them to the carnival. We sat on a bench and ate cajun shrimp and snow cones and watched the people go by.

And Mom and I rode the ferris wheel. We laughed at the sign that warned about rocking the car (while our car rocked) and waved at Dad and Alan as they watched from below. She told me about riding the rollar coaster with her first beau. And I thought about life and love and being young and growing old and the eternal circle of things.

"I haven't been on a ferris wheel in fifty years!" she said.

There are moments when you know you are doing the right thing. And that was one of them.

A Perfect Day!

Congrats to Julie!

Springville High Graduation, May 28

Coming Home!

I've been really struggling with feeling depressed, of all things. My problem is that I wanted everything to be perfect when Elder Danny reappeared. And it's not. And it won't be. I had this goal--this end-point--when the house would be perfectly organized and decorated, all the boxes in the garage emptied and put away, and I would be thirty pounds skinnier instead of ten pounds heavier than when he left. The dog-chewed blinds would be replaced, trees would be planted, and the carpet would be cleaned. Like he's excited to come home so that he can see the house, right?! Silly me. I'm revising my goals by the day, and pretty soon I think my list is going to read "clean the bathrooms!"

We loved our Sunday phone call. I didn't even try to keep the conversation away from "TWO WEEKS!" Yes, it made him trunky, but he's just going to have to deal with that. He asked if we could have chicken enchiladas and chocolate ice cream when he gets home. I think I can arrange that. He also sounded really surprised that everyone is coming from out-of-town to see him. Like he doesn't know he's a celebrity around here!!!!

SIXTEEN DAYS--wahoo! (Does that mean that I can pick sixteen projects and do one a day and . . . oh wait, there's a couple of Sundays in there, and then there's my daughter's high school graduation, and the two projects she wants me to help her finish so she can get her Young Woman Recognition award, and Andrew's baseball games and everyone else arriving before Danny--which takes my target date to twelve days, and . . . Give it up, Liz. It's not going to happen. Stick with cleaning the bathrooms. It's more realistic.)

Totally and Unabashedly Addicted

And I never watch TV. It's true. Ask those who know me best. In fact, that box in the living room is the only thing I have ever had violent fantasies about, fantasies which involve baseball bats and pruning sheers--not in the same fantasy, by the way.

But here I am, watching American Idol every week. Totally addicted. And if that's not enough, I've found that the night just isn't complete without at least one episode of 24. Of course, that's on a DVD, so does it still count? Probably, since it had its beginnings on TV.

But the upside is that AI is somewhat self-limiting and I get to see my married kids more (since I offer a free meal for anyone who will participate with me). As for 24--let's just put it this way. The show puts my life in perspective. Anything that goes wrong, I can always say, "It could be worse. I could be Jack." "Had a bad day? Try Jack's."

So that's not all bad, is it?