Photo booth

 Even after funerals people need to laugh. So three of four sisters and I got into a photo booth at the Cinemax. No easy feat. Janie, on the far left was seated on the floor at first, so you could only see the top of her head. We had to lift her up. No easy feat. Almost impossible even though she's skinny. Judy is on her right, me, then Marilyn, the baby of the five sisters. Toni is missing. I'm sure we could have crammed her in as well. (There's always photoshop, Toni). 

Marilyn would want me to tell you that people think I'm her mother. Very funny. I wasn't close to having a baby at age sixteen. Boys made me babble with anxiety. Still, I would be happy to have Marilyn as a daughter. The sisters are just about perfect.

We saw "A Man Called Otto," which was a splendid restorative film. I recommend it to all.

Q's memorial service

 This weekend I was in Redmond, Washington for Q's memorial service. This is my favorite story from that service as told by his son, Brian:

One day after elementary school, Q saw the the principal tie up a stray dog that he thought might have rabies. The dog was miserable tied up. So Q untied the dog and freed it. Unfortunately, the principal saw him do this and came out and gave Q a good thrashing. A humiliating thrashing.

For the next three months, Q prayed every night that the principal would die. And after three months, he did die. 

Q worried that he had killed the principal.

Is this a riddle?

Do you think Q killed the principal?

If I bought an electric bike

 If I bought an electric bike, it would be a red three-wheeler and  have two baskets for groceries, cut flowers and pastries. Not necessarily in that order.

I don't know if tricycles are actually safer, but it feels safer for an old woman.  Would I want to pedal it down Salt Lake City's bike lanes? 

Hell, no.

Salt Lake City has bike lanes running through downtown that say in painted white lettering: bike lane. Is it really a bike lane or is it an accident waiting to happen? There is no way a car can make a right turn without crossing the bike lane. Just because it says bike lane doesn't make it a true bike lane.  Ask the Dutch! A bike lane should not have to deal with cars turning in front of them, because drivers forget to look for bikers, and bikers are not always hip college students whipping in and out of traffic with well-developed thigh muscles.

I know the world doesn't revolve around old ladies (17 seconds isn't quite long enough to cross a wide street,  by the way).

It's against the law to ride a bike/tricycle on the sidewalk downtown.

 Define downtown.  

From the front door of my apartment to Symphony Hall is downtown. From the front door of my apartment to Mrs. Backer's Bakery, one should be allowed to ride the sidewalk because pedestrian traffic is minimal, especially on the south side of the street.

Why not make a law that old people can ride the sidewalks on tricycles? This is not exactly a pedestrian city anyway. Everyone drives a car if the destination is longer than a block and a half. I should be able to ride up to Virginia Street and back on the side walk. Or how about from South Temple down 9th East or 5th East, or 2nd East to the library?

I have red tricycle dreams.

Rose has learned to beg

 Why is that so charming? We don't find it so charming when people and children beg. A puppy begging is endearing. We're all nuts.

I'm leaving for Seattle tomorrow morning for a brother-in-law's memorial service (Janie's husband). Seven of us are driving up. Nothing like a funeral to bring the whole family together. More later.

Me and Mahjong (also spelled Mahjongg)

  Last night, Jo Ann drove me to the Jewish Community Center to learn to play Mahjong. (My teeth rattled in my head as I typed the name of the game). There's an entire new vocabulary to learn and images to memorize and signs (be sure to click the tile). Next time, I imagine, I will learn a secret handshake.

I did okay the first hour. I was tracking. I was following directions and asking the right questions. The next two hours my brain melted into a dung heap of stupidity. It was late.  New players kept showing up and we'd have to go over the same material again. I began seeing visions and hearing voices. Jo Ann would move my hands and pretend that I thought of the moves myself. I love her for this, but I wasn't fooled.

I went in with twenty dollars in my pocket and left with three. No I didn't bet, (but there will be betting involved--let's hope it's quarters.)

I bought the official standard hands and rules by the National Mahjong League, Inc, a little encyclopedia of information. We play American Mahjong. I'm sure the Chinese are laughing.

Want proof? See pic below. I look insane:

Happy red and white Monday!

Here I am mesmerized by a red and white quilt at the Festival of Trees last month. Red and white just grabs me by the throat and makes me happy. I have one folded at the bottom of my bed that I bought for a song at another Festival of Trees. It is machine quilted, but I don't care. It's the pop of color I'm craving.  And nothing looks better against that red and white than my black and white pooch, Rose. It's all about design, folks. Everything is design.

I'm about to go down and ride the stationary bike for a half hour. That's my goal for exercise this year. Sometimes, I swim and sometimes it's the exercise bike.  Sarah and I are going to NYC the first week in March, and I want to be strong enough to get around. (Never had to consider such problems before). Never ever thought I might tip over for no reason at all. Occasionally, it happens.

Happy Monday, everyone!

George incognito

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For Christmas, we gave six-year-old George a box of disguises.  The first thing he did was pull out those black glasses to read the directions for the rest of the kit. Such a George thing to do and with all soberness too. He may come by today. I hope he wears a moustache and heavy eyebrows. That would make my day. Seeing George always makes my day.