Tuesday, October 14, 2014

Burraston Ponds in Mona UT

Or as Tom says, BurrASSton Ponds.  "That's the way they pronounce it in Mona."

Sure they do.

I think it was in Santaquin that we began seeing signs for The Young Living Lavender Farm and theYoung Living Family Farm.  As opposed to dead lavender and a dead family. Words are important, people.

We stopped at the Rowley Red Barn and bought a huge can of dried onions.  We could have bought ice cream or a berry pie, but we bought dried onions.  I can't account for it.  We took a couple of pictures of ourselves and agreed that we should cut down on food altogether.

Mona is a clean and tidy town with a terrific view of Mount Nebo to the east.  To get to Burraston Ponds, you turn left on Main Street and when you get to Gaydean Sweet Art Bakery, begin clocking 1.6 miles and then turn right.  The ponds are in a lovely grove of trees.  We drove along, found a great spot, took out the old people chairs and sat in the sun for more than an hour.  There is also a place with a rope dangling down where kids hurl themselves out into the water, but it was very quiet on Monday.

I was looking for bluebirds, because the only bluebirds I saw this summer were females and they are not blue all over.  They're a dull gray/brown on top.  When I told the universe I wanted to see a bluebird this summer, I should have been specific about male bluebirds.

We stopped for an overcooked hotdog on the way home and listened to NPR.  A perfect day.

Our feet.  Tom's the one with the delicate ankle.  I'm the one with the cankle.

Where we sat

Killroy was here.

Tom with can of onions and package of something we didn't buy.

But it's all right if you kill old people.





Monday, October 13, 2014

Walk of shame

This weekend we went to see the Metropolitan Opera's Macbeth, live, in high definition at the Jordan Common Cineplex.  By "live" they mean in real time.  Because sitting in the Cineplex is nothing like sitting in the Metropolitan Opera House in Lincoln Center.  You don't get to watch those chandeliers move up and down, or walk up the red carpeted stairway and gawp at Chagall.  You don't get to turn back and see the fountain lit up outside the windows.  And you don't think, "I'm in NYC, the center of modern civilization."

On the other hand, you have an infinitely more comfortable seat at the Cineplex and it isn't against the back wall of the fifth balcony where people on stage move like Polly Pockets in fancy costume.

There were three couples in the Cineplex in Jordan Common.  Usually we go to the theater on 33rd south and State, where the theater is filled with opera lovers. Not here.  But all three couples were opera lovers, so there's that.

Near the end of the opera, which was sensational, I reached in my purse for lipstick and smeared it on my lips in the dark.  When the lights came on, we spoke with the couple nearest us.  I'm all smiles in my full Louise Plummer persona.  We walk into the lobby.  More smiling.  We walk to the car.  I get in and look in the mirror and my lips look white.  I look like a zombie.  Instead of wearing lipstick, I am wearing under eye concealer, which comes in a lipstick-like tube.

I let out a squelched scream.  "Why didn't you tell me I had this on my lips?" I say to Tom.  "I look like an old whore."

"Oh, I thought your lipstick looked a little light."

A little light?  My lipstick looks a little light?

Then I remember he's always been this way.  As young marrieds, he didn't see a streak of mascara on my cheek.

I'm the one who gives him the alerts at the mall:  "Wow, look at the breasts at two o' clock."

"Where?"

There are advantages in this kind of husband. He loves opera is just one of them.





Wednesday, October 8, 2014

How depressed are you?


I like to know just where I stand with my mental illness on a scale of one to ten.  Say that Shirley Temple, age 5, singing and dancing and smiling with dimples is a ten and Robin Williams is a zero.
Where, I wonder, am I on that scale?

Months ago, I asked my therapist, Dr. Magic, that question and he told me that deeply depressed people sleep in the day and are up at night.  "You see them late at night at Walmart wearing blankets," he said.
"They're buying dinner: potato chips and chocolate."

I look skeptical.

"Look it up on the internet," he said.

So I did.  And there they are.

"I never leave the house without lipstick," I said.  Of course, I can't see these womens' faces.  Maybe they're wearing lipstick too.

Where are you on the scale?

Tuesday, October 7, 2014

Loafing on the weekend

Aspens along the Alpine Loop

The pond at Liberty Park

Tom in front of the General Store at Sundance

Tom and I drove up the Alpine Loop this weekend, only we detoured to Cascade Springs where there were way too many people with the same idea.  We hung over the lookout and decided not to walk down to the springs, because then we would have to walk back UP, which neither of us wanted to.

We stopped in Sundance for drinks and sat on the lawn at the pond with the Indian statue.  Tom counted trout.  People were going up the ski lift with mountain bikes.  It was a glorious, sunny day.

Sunday, we sat in Liberty Park and watched people and their dogs


The pond at Sundance

Sunday, October 5, 2014

First case of ebola in Utah

I have it.  These are my symptoms:  sore throat, coughing, sneezing, a strong malaise, light headedness, widespread body aches.  High anxiety.

How I got it:  in my closet there is a Calvin Klein blazer that I bought in the last 21 days and was more than likely stitched together in a Liberian factory by a now dead seamstress.

I am waiting to see blood.  Still waiting.  Waiting.

People who should be contacted in case of my demise: Tom, wash the sheets.  Erica, have your car sanitized.  Harrison, did we touch?  Sarah, Sally, Elliot, Louis, Melanie, Bill and Christine, Paula.

I know ebola is no laughing matter.  But my anxiety about it definitely is.

Wednesday, October 1, 2014

It's fall and I have plans


Alpine Loop

Judy P. and I drove the Alpine Loop yesterday starting up American Fork Canyon and coming down Provo Canyon.  The maples are burnished now but the aspen is bright.  This is a great weekend to drive this scenic route.  Expect to ooooh and aaaaah.

One of my goals is to be outside more.  Or at least to look outside.  My real goal is to visit all Utah lakes and ponds.  I googled them, and the internet thinks I want to fish.  No, I don't care if there are fish are not.  Anyway, I came up with this map, which is a beginning:


The red markers are lakes and reservoirs and the gold ones are community ponds.  I am less interested in rivers and streams (blue).  

I have 777 miles on my new car.

Tom asked me if I would please wash out the tuna cans before throwing them in the garbage.  I said I never would. 

Friday, September 26, 2014

Swimming in the Great Salt Lake



Last weekend, Erica asked me if I'd like to go swimming in The Great Salt Lake with her.  I thought that sounded really icky.  Over the years, I've come to think of The Great Salt Lake as a fly-infested swamp.  Luckily, I blurted out, "Yes, I'll go."

She drove us to Antelope Island to a pristine beach and an endless view of blue sea and sky.  My blood pressure dipped way down and all anxieties of the morning disappeared.

We floated floated floated.  There were no flies.  They were on holiday.  We floated in the sun.  The water was warm.  We floated in a world of blue.  Nothing mattered except floating.  It was mind altering.

I'm going to continue doing this for the rest of my life.

And about the rest of my life:  I've decided to begin a list of things I do in my seventies that Mother didn't do.

Thank you, Erica, for getting me started.