Wednesday, September 21, 2016

Got what I wanted




For my 74th birthday, I received a polaroid camera. It takes the same lousy pictures as it always did, but there is something so satisfying, so instantly gratifying to have that tiny picture develop in front of your eyes. It took Andy Warhol to make me appreciate the art of that imperfect photo.

Anyway, I bought myself a little six by six sketch book for a photo journal and I am recording people I run into daily and sticking it in the book for a history of my being 74. I will draw little cartoons around the photos. I have to wear heavy magnified glasses to even see the images.

The day after my birthday, I visited my doctor, and he said to me these words: "You should be prepared to die at anytime."

He is dim with social skills. I know what he meant. People die in their seventies. A blood vessel bursts in your head and you fall over dead as Napoleon.

He also told me to exercise; that exercise would help me keep my wits. He was full of information.

I pulled out my camera. "I'm going to take your picture," I said. "Okay?"

This caught him off guard, which is exactly what I intended. He does not know the power of the irrational. He is an excellent diagnostician, so I stay with him. I would have put the pic here, but I promised not to "advertise" with it.

I walked around Liberty Park today. The friend I was meeting forgot to come. So go your seventies.

Monday, August 29, 2016

The smarter than we are TV

We were away for a week in Colorado's Grand Mesa. Our smart TV worked fine when we left, but when we got back, we could no longer get on Netflix. Anne, our granddaughter, came over to help us, but she was stumped as well. So all last week, we watched TV on TV and Netflix on our computers.

Last night, the sound disappeared. Tom got online to watch videos about how the Sharp Smart TV worked, but the sound is still off. We watched Boston and Kansas City play baseball in silence.

We called Sam, but he works on Sunday nights and couldn't help us.

Next, we call Tate. If he can't fix it, we'll have to start reading books.

Now that would be new.



Tuesday, August 9, 2016

My Olympic ambitions


Yes, I had Olympic ambitions. In the second grade, I made a little book showing me winning a gold medal for the backstroke with all these cute little pictures I'd drawn with Crayolas. I took the bus downtown to the Deseret Gym where I swam only the backstroke.

Where it broke down was when I realized I had to dive into the water on my back and be submerged, face up, for several seconds. I don't like water stinging up my nose. So a year after I decided to win a gold medal, I decided to keep writing little books about winning a gold medal. Much easier.

This morning I feel cheated. This morning I see this picture of David Plummer and he's wearing a nose plug. You can use a nose plug in the Olympics? Is this not cheating? Who allowed the nose plug?

I could have continued my swimming career if I had known that nose plugs were allowed.

Cheated again.



Tuesday, July 26, 2016

Watching the Pioneer Parade or not

Tom and Bill

We invited Christine and Bill  for a slumber party, so they could leave their kingsized
Stearns & Foster mattress at home and sleep on a queen-sized blow-up mattress on our living room floor.

Somewhat blown up. Not very blown up. 

The idea was it was the most convenient way to be right there on the parade route at nine in the morning, because we live on the parade route.

Christine and I are not in the pic, because someone had to be awake to actually take the pic. Tom should have been more awake than he was, because he actually slept in a bed. After an hour, he said, "Isn't this long enough?"

"No, we haven't seen the refugee float yet!"

"No, we haven't seen the Liahona band yet!"

"No, we haven't heard the Momma's Pentacostal Choir yet!"  And so on.

Sam and Sarah and children arrived about a half hour into it and I got to hold baby George for awhile. He slept too.

The sun creeped across the street and we had to move the chairs back several times. If the parade had lasted too much longer we would have ended up in the building.

Was it worth it?  Of course!  It was worth hearing Bill tell the story of when he went to see Psycho as a young teen. It scared him silly,  When he got home he had to walk into a shadowy house that looked very much like the house in Psycho, into a gloomy. unlit basement where his bedroom was located.

In the dark, a vacuum attacked him. He screamed like a girl, fell over clutching the vacuum's neck and was saved by his father running down the stairs and turning on a light.

We ate lunch at Siegfried's. We sat in the back room where through the wall we could hear someone hacking with a cleaver. We assumed it was food.



Monday, July 18, 2016

Kids' movies

A couple of weeks ago, I took Sally, Louis and Elliot to see Finding Dory, which was so boring. Even they knew it was boring. "It wasn't funny," Elliot said. "It was just sad."

Sally (4) got the message. The minute the lights went up she fell into emotional bawling. "I want my mom and dad," she sobbed. Whaaaa! Whaaaa! Whaaaa!

Did she want to go home? No. She just wanted to cry her sadness out through the theater and into the women's bathroom and out to the car.

I was okay with that.  "Let's go to my house and watch My Little Pony," I said. She nodded. Good idea.

We have three computers, one for each of them. Perfection.

I said we could do better the following week.  And we did with The Secret Lives of Pets, which was funny. Plus, it took place in NYC and Brooklyn which were astonishing in a cartoon. NYC deserves its own cartoon.

Finding Dory was like standing in front of an aquarium for two hours.


Sunday, July 10, 2016

Brothers and sisters and Happy Birthday, Janie!

Front row from left: Janie, Marilyn, Louise, Judy, Toni. Back row: David, Teddy, Gerard

Janie came to town and we had a barbecue in Teddy's backyard. I know Teddy is not his adult name but how can I give up calling him Teddy? Is that not the best? He looks just like our paternal grandfather. He's a cheerful man as my father was. It wasn't until last year that I realized that my father was a cheerful man.  Slow learner.

Yes, I got a permanent, and now I look breathtakingly like my mother, although she brushed hers straight back. Why would one get a permanent when one is actually an old lady? Why? It's because I like to be at the forefront of fashion, and it's about time for the return of the permanent. Somebody tell Vogue Magazine.

Permanents are not as smelly as that Tonette home permanent my mother gave me, rinsing it over the kitchen sink and nearly gagging me with the stench. It was like water boarding with ammonia. In those days, you didn't let a permanent take its natural course; you put your hair up in bobby pins every night.  The fifties really was a water-boarding experience, now that I think of it.

It's Janie's birthday today. She's seventy-one.  In high school, she had these little spit curls in front of her ear. Not particularly attractive. "Why did you let me do that?"she  has asked.

Well, I don't know. Why did you let me write all those stupid things in my journal?  Thank heaven, those two high school journals were lost in the move from NYC.

Janie is one of the best people I know. I had to grow up to find that out. In fact, all my kith and kin are good people, but even better, they are drop-dead funny.

Happy Birthday, Janie.  I knew it was your birthday, because Mrs. Backer's bakery is closed the first two weeks in July--always was and always will be.

And guess what, you shouldn't have worn that wiglet in the seventies either.



Wednesday, July 6, 2016

Norma Jeanne Cannon Grow




Yesterday, I went to Norma Jeanne's graveside ceremony in Mt. Olivet Cemetery.  She was my sister-in-law, Kathy's, mother. Norma Jeanne's mother-in-law lived in Emigration Ward: Jessie Grow, and as I recall was the Relief Society president for awhile.  A lovely woman from long long ago.

Anyway Norma Jeanne died at the age of 87. She wore out. I met her, but I didn't know her.

I know more about her now.  For example her favorite color was red and she is buried in red shoes--my guess is they are high heels.  She was a high heels kind of woman. She wore red lipstick and red fingernail polish and she loved to buy clothes.  She sold real estate. She picked up stray people and let them live at her house (Not unlike Kathy and Teddy). She liked movies and that TV buying channel that I never watch. She loved cosmetic jewelry and buying people gifts.

She was also buried wearing her sunglasses, which she wore like Jack Nicholson--inside the house as well as outside. She was  buried wearing an Irish pin, because she either was Irish or wanted to be Irish.  I'm guessing she was more a wannabe.  I can't remember all the items she was buried with, but the coffin is filled up.

We, the guests, were also given sunglasses to wear in her honor. Also, we were in the sun.  There were about ten chairs set up and my brother, Gerard, who is a year younger than me, said, "I don't know if I can stand in that sun."

"We can use the "old" card," I said, "and sit in a chair," which we did. The oldest person there was  in a wheelchair.  There are advantages there.  Half the chairs remained empty because people are so polite about allowing others to use the chairs.

I liked hearing about Norma Jeanne and liked hearing her family sing.  I liked being outdoors in what is surely the most beautiful cemetery in Salt Lake.

Why didn't we consider Mt. Olivet?  Two deer stood  a little distance off watching the ceremonies.

At the end, we let go of red and white balloons and watched them float off into the atmosphere, the way we all hope we will float into another sphere and still be somewhat ourselves.