A new kind of bagel

The other night at the Bees Baseball Game, our two year-old granddaughter suddenly became focused on my girls.

I'll bet you didn't see THAT coming, did you?

Anyway, she started calling them "bagels," which amused us all and (of course) gave a whole new meaning to the word.  And when the evening was over, her mother told her, "Don't worry, Honey.  One day you'll have bagels, too."

What do you think?

So everything I hear and see on the radio/TV is making me cry this morning.  The news that babies are born addicted to painkillers.  That story about the Puerto Rican delegate at the RNC who was interrupted by chanting on the floor.  The realization that MSNBC has become as big a joke as Fox on the news front.  The knowledge that Paul Ryan and I have both Led Zeppelin and AC/DC on our playlists.

What do you think, people?  Time for me to break out the Celexa again?

What I Meant to do Today

1.  Put back together the upstairs guest room after Ken's heroic effort to re-floor (looks awesome!).
2.  Write 1000 words on my novel.
3.  Read THE CITY AND THE CITY.
4.  Write Q. a letter.
5.  E-mail a couple of friends to say I miss them.
6.  Avoid watching the RNC on TV.
7.  Deadhead some roses.
8.  Throw away old melons still hiding in my fridge.
9.  Go to The Body Shop (I think that's what it's called--the one that isn't Bath and Body.  Or Bed, Bath and Beyond.)  ANYWAY.  To buy some coconut body lotion.
10.  It's just really confusing to have so many stores with the words "bath"and also "body" in the name, don't you agree?

This is what I did instead.
1.  Napped.
2.  Ate brownies.
3.  Ate more brownies.

Yes.  It has been an awesome day and I do not say that ironically.

True Love

So Ken had knee surgery last Thursday and dude's on crutches for six weeks.  This, of course, has changed both of our lives.  There's a lot he can do for himself--and he does--but there are some things that are just really complicated, so then I take over.

Which is easier said than done.

This morning, for example, we stopped at Sinclair on his way to work to fill up the car.  I hopped out and went about my business when SUDDENLY he poked his head out the window started telling me how to pump gas.  I just stared at him.  And in my Wordless Stare there were many Wordless Sentences spoken, such as:

"Do you know how long I have been pumping my own gas, Buster?"

"Where are you usually when I pump my own gas?  NOT WITH ME."

"How do you think my car gets filled week after week?  By the gas fairies?"

The Wordless Stare had the effect of making him pull his head back in the car (like a turtle) and keep his mouth shut.  Meanwhile, one more Wordless Sentence went through my head:  "In spite of what just happened here, I love you anyway."

Thanks

. . . for your kind comments the other day.  Putting Q in the MTC was hard.  I appreciated your support.  Meanwhile, lookee here.  This week's column!

Going, going and the long good-bye

So Q. takes off for the MTC tomorrow.

And.

I am so proud of him.  I also think this is a good decision on his part.  But I just have this anxious, heavy, sour cloud hanging over me right now--have had it following me around consistently for the better part of the month, actually.  There's just this ongoing awareness that everything we do is the. last. time. we'll. be. doing. this. for. two. years.

Here's what I know after sending off other boys.  They return.  But they never truly come back home.

I'm so gonna miss that kid.

Moonrise Kingdom

We saw this the other night at the Broadway.  I expected to enjoy it, and I did.  But then of course I would like anything that looks like a Cohen Brothers movie and a Wes Anderson (who, in fact, wrote and directed Moonrise) movie got together and had a baby.  Which is exactly how this movie felt.

What interested me is how much Q. and Geoff liked it.  It is very stylized and more than a little absurdist.  But Geoff summed things up by saying that movie somehow managed to capture how it feels to be a young adolescent male.

Did you see it?  And what did you guys think?

Self-esteem and so on

Here's this week's column!

Some more living out loud with Ken

I've mentioned before that one of the things I relish about Ken is how he's always having shouting matches with people on TV.  Like, he'll hear a pundit say something about a candidate on MEET THE PRESS and he'll go, "YEAH, RIGHT!"  or "YOU HAVE FREAKING GOT TO BE KIDDING ME" or "AS IF."

It's just a non-stop conversation.  Which (I learned this morning) he can even do in his sleep.

This morning at 5:00 a.m. I awoke to my clock radio with the announcer saying that Melky Cabrera has been suspended for 50 games because he tested positive for testosterone (?!)  (Hell, don't they all?)  (Not the point, however.)

The point is this--even though Ken Cannon was sound asleep, he mumbled, "What were you thinking, Melky buddy?"

Hard not to love that guy, right?

My wish for you

. . . is that one day you have a lovely friend ask if you wouldn't mind driving her to the town you grew up in and share the memories of what it felt like to be a kid there.

After many months (years) (possibly decades) of trying to arrange this little day trip, Lisa B. and I finally headed south to Provo where we discussed The Edgemont Years in which I rode bikes and ran through foothills covered in long burnt grass.  She listened to me with every bit of herself.  And then she told me growing up stories, too.

Sweetness.

THE CLOSER

I thought last night's final episode was quite satisfying, didn't you?  And I'm happy that the supporting cast--because that's where the true joy of the show has been for me--is sticking around for MAJOR CRIMES, which I want to like.

But last night's MAJOR CRIMES premiere episode felt . . . plodding.  It would be a tough act to follow the finale of such a beloved show.  I get that.  And I do like the Sharon Raydor character and want her to succeed.  But I'm wondering if a by-the-book character can drive the action enough to keep us interested.  Americans love a maverick!  Except if you're me and the maverick's name is Sarah Palin!  But whatever!  That's not the point.

Anyway.  Your thoughts?

Discouraging news on the YA front

So Geoff is interested in reading (also re-reading) some YA fiction right now.  He prefers contemporary realistic fiction in the vein of Chris Crutcher's fabulous RUNNING LOOSE.

Anyhoo.  When I was at the library today I went into the teen room to grab some (possible) titles for him, and to my dismay nearly all the books were WAAAAAAY more girl-friendly than guy-friendly.  And what guy-friendly titles there leaned toward the sci-fi/fantasy vein, which Geoff doesn't care for.

It may be a man's world still in many ways.  But it just ain't when it comes to YA fiction.

Here's this week's columnhttp://www.sltrib.com/sltrib/news/54668261-78/nami-walk-illness-mental.html.csp  As you know, I feel strongly about the topic of mental illness.  I appreciate NAMI's efforts to put information (and some hope!) out there.

Here's what I miss . . .

about walking across England.

Yes.  It was wet.  And yes.  It was hard, in spite of the marvelous company.  It was sort of both awesome and awful at the same time, you know?

Still.  There was something so wonderful, so pure about the simplicity of it all.  You woke up knowing that all you would do that day was walk.  You didn't have to go to the store, answer the phone, respond to e-mails, clean the house, do your job.  You just walked 12 miles.  And then you ate a good meal and went to bed.

You couldn't spend your whole life doing that, I suppose.  But it was nice while it lasted.

When old people text

I'm talking about the TRQ and me.  We were trying to set up a lunch date.  She was at home, and I was sitting in the passenger seat of a car while Alec drove.  Here's how our conversation went.

ME:  What are your days like next week?

TRQ:  Open every day except Wednesday.  Appointment.

ME:  Sounds good.  I'll look at my calendar.

TRQ:  Who's driving?  xoxox

ME:  Me.

TRQ:  HAHAHAHAHA.  Please tell me it isn't so.

ME:  Don't worry.  I am only going five miles over the speed limit.

TRQ:  (after a long, long, long pause)  Smart ass.

The way my brain works

So yesterday I went to see TOTAL RECALL with my boys--a movie I'd heard nothing about.  And the whole time I'm thinking, "That guy looks like Colin Farrell.  In fact, he looks a LOT like Colin Farrell.  I wonder who he is?"

And, of course, it turned out to be--wait for it--Colin Farrell.

It just never occurred to me that Colin Farrell could be running around all buff and six-pack-y looking in a wife-beater, duking it out with Kate Beckinsale on the big screen while enduring dewey-eyed looks from that extremely annoying Jessica Biel.  Not once.  But I certainly thought someone who looked just like him could . . .

Too, too soon

The young adult son of a family friend died this weekend suddenly, and the news has made me so, so sad.  He'd spent time on a rocky road, for sure, but things were looking up.  Such a blow.

I only met him once when he was a teenager--I remember how friendly he was, how he chattered away like we'd known each other for years.  I remember how young he was, too.  Excited by life.  Full of freshness.

RIP.

Perhaps the end of an obsession

http://www.sltrib.com/sltrib/news/54615514-78/red-velvet-cannon-ann.html.csp

Tender Talking

Our youngest is headed out the door soon for a mission.  This week he spent some time in Provo with his granny who frankly told him she might not be here when he returns, because she is (after all) awesomely 92.  She said she loves him and she'll be pulling for him on this side or the other.

I was grateful that she did not shy away from the subject.  Sometimes we don't say things because we don't know how.  I love that my marvelous MIL gave her youngest grandson the gift of her loving openness.

Something I learned about my family and pineapples

First, let me say that I appreciate those of you who read my blog along with your willingness to let me talk about memories that involve my father.  I am reluctant to write about him and his singular career in other publications (the paper, for one), because I don't want to be all  name-droppy and WOW!  LOOK AT ME-ish!  

Still.  As I get older--and, frankly, as he gets older, too--I feel more compelled to get stuff down when it hits me.  Like the pineapple story, which I'd totally forgotten until TRQ brought it up yesterday over crab rolls at Kneaders.

"Remember that time when we were in Hawaii and everybody kept giving your dad gift boxes of pineapples?"  she asked.

"Oh, yeah," I said.  "I kind of do."

"People always acted like your dad was King of Hawaii," she said.

"They did, sometimes," I said.  "You're right."

"That's why they gave him all those pineapples."

"It was a lot of pineapples," I said.

"And we took them all back to San Francisco with us.  And then we loaded up the car we'd left there--we took you guys to DeVan's to get your teeth done--and then we drove home across the desert.  Only there wasn't enough room in the car for family and pineapples.  So you guys sat on boxes and boxes of pineapples and I carried boxes in my lap.  And then we put the rest in the trunk.  Only there were so many boxes of pineapples, the trunk lid wouldn't close.  So we forced it.  And we dented it.  The pineapples dented our car."

"It's true," my dad piped up after all of this.  "The pineapples dented our car."

Here's what I learned from this story:  My family has no idea what to do with pineapples.  Obv.

Wait for it!

Or don't.

Food, that is.

This morning Kathy was talking about an ad she'd seen, urging us all to have pumpkin pie in July.  No need to wait for Thanksgiving or Christmas!  Get your pumpkin on now!

"Another thing we used to look forward to," she said glumly, "ruined."

Instant Gratification isn't all that it's cracked up to be.