Why yes we DO have a new puppy at our house . . .

And I write about her here.

I'll get off my lazy rear and post some pictures tomorrow.

An odd clothing-related moment

So, you see women wearing leggings and at the same time you hear things like LEGGINGS AREN'T PANTS which (obi) means there's a right way and a wrong way to approach the leggings situation.

Anyway, I recently bought some leggings from my Avon lady because who doesn't?  And I wore them to TKE the other night (I'm back on the schedule these days) with a longish shirt and yes.  Of course.  Shoes.

But suddenly I wondered if I'd gotten it wrong?  Did it look like I had forgotten something?  Like a skirt?  So I asked a customer if it looked like I was wearing clothes to her to her.

She said yes.

Which put both of our minds at ease.

A few things I don't understand

1.  Why I still feel so busy even though all my kids are gone and I don't have three paper routes anymore--

2.  What the hell Mayor Becker had in mind when he did that crazy stuff on Third South.
"Progressive" does not have to equal "noodles for brains"--

3.  Who MSNBC thinks they're reaching with their youth-oriented programs (Ronan Farrow, The Cycle, etc.) in the middle of the day.  HEY, MSNBC!  ONLY OLD LADIES FOLDING LAUNDRY IN THE MIDDLE OF THE DAY ARE WATCHING!  LIKE ME!

Feel free to add to my grumpy list.

Oops! It's Wednesday and I forgot to post this week's column!

So here it is.

Football and tender times

I spent Saturday with the Coach and TRQ.  The Coach spoke at his best friend's funeral in Kaysville, and so it was all tender times.  His friend, btw, was the dentist we used to visit in San Leandro when I was a kid.  He and my dad met at USU where they played football and forged a friendship that lasted years and years.

Anyway, after the funeral my parents and I went to Paradise Bakery and ate squash soup, which suddenly made me feel the like the oldest person in the world.  Me.  Eating a little squash soup at 3:00 p.m. on a Saturday afternoon.  To keep my strength up.

We did a lot of remembering about DeVan (the dentist) who loved football even more than he loved teeth.  So then my parents and I talked about football--what's happening now and how much things have changed, which led to this exchange.

THE COACH:         I wonder if football will even be around fifty years from now.

ME:                          No football?  Well, I hope I'm dead by then.

THE COACH:         I'm pretty sure I will be.

Mortality, don't you know.

Louise and her iPad

Yesterday Louise Plummer and I had a serious talk about depression yesterday while eating Indian Food at Saffron Valley because apparently you're never too depressed to eat Tandoori chicken or vegetable korma.  When we were finished, Louise said, "Let's take a selfie with my iPad to show everyone what depressed writers look like."  So I said fine.

Here's the result.

I did it!

I wrote a column about gray hair.

Thanks for your input!

The problem with ashes

So Ken Cannon and I have taken to having our pets cremated when they die.  (Aren't you glad I added the "when they die" part?)  And then they return to us in lovely little cedar boxes with their names engraved on the top because this is an option now and when you're saying goodbye to a beloved dog or cat, having their ashes in lovely little cedar boxes with their names engraved on the top seems like a good idea at the time.

And then a few years later you look at your book shelf where you keep the ashes and go, "I have the ashes of dead dogs in my house."  And then you go, "Is this normal?"  And then you go, "What am I going to do with these lovely little cedar boxes with my pets' names engraved on the top."  And then you go, "What should I say if people ask me about this stack of boxes?" And then you decide you'll just have to lie.

Because people will think you're crazy if you tell the truth.

But not as crazy as a woman I know who had her pet wiener dog stuffed after he died.

Which makes me suddenly feel much better about myself.

Which is a good thing on a Monday.

September

Yesterday when I was in the car with the Old Coach and his friend, they reminisced about the experience of watching reel-to-reel movies--how the films sometimes caught on fire and so you'd be looking at this lovely frame when suddenly a corner started to bubble and burn like an oil slick.  So then the projectionist would shut it all down until the problem got fixed.

I feel a little this way about my brain in September.  I had a lovely e-mail from Lisa B yesterday, asking if I was enjoying this incredible weather or if the Little Black Dog was already trotting onto the scene.

Or both.

The answer is both.

The light this morning, people!   Is there any way to describe a garden bursting with nasturtiums and anemones and potato vines bathed in amber?  No.   I am overwhelmed by the beauty of the world and of all the people I love in this world right now.

But there's also the bubbling in the corner of my brain--the old sadness announcing its encore performance.  I wish I weren't wired this way.

On the plus side, though!  A low dose of Celexa and a lot of exercise work wonders for me.  And I have a lot of experience with this now, so I know how to manage.  I'm also lucky--truly lucky--because my seasons of sadness are not debilitating.   At all.

Meanwhile, my son and his wife and their exquisite child are visiting from Houston.  And I am doing a little canning today and will perhaps ride a horse this afternoon.  All of these are pleasures to be had when September comes to visit.

On punishment and pit bull rabbits . . .

When I went to lunch a few weeks ago with a couple of people from the Trib, I told the story about this rabbit.  And I enjoyed the stroll down Memory Lane so much I decided to write a column about it.

Dawn Houghton and Book Wagon

Dawn and I have been friends for a long time now.  Fact is that I adore her.  She's so funny, so smart, so good.  Also, I wouldn't mind looking like her.  A few years ago she created a non-profit that takes books to children in underserved areas of the valley.  I wrote about it here.

Get in touch with her if you have books to donate.

Thank you.

And while I'm saying thank you, than you for reading and commenting.  You probably don't know how much that all means to me.

Have a great weekend.

WWYD

That stand for what would YOU do?

As in this--

Yesterday in the Smith's parking lot I saw a very, very, very thin woman with a stroller and 2 young children who were cute, friendly and dirty.  She told me they were homeless and could I help.  The unexpected presence of children gave this familiar scenario a different wrinkle.  I told her that I'd be happy to buy them a meal, so she asked her kids what they wanted and they said Lunchables.  I bought those, some apple juice, and a sandwich for the mother, which I handed off as I left the store.  They immediately proceeded to a corner and began eating.

So all of this was disturbing, of course.  My guess is the mother is a meth addict, which looks at once more horrible and banal in real life than it does on TV.   But the kids.  What about the kids?  Should I have called someone?  But who?

Ugh.  I feel like I've failed to do the right thing somehow.

Life mottos

I think I've written about this before . . .

Yeah, this is bad.  I'm not only repeating my stories in conversations, I'm re-posting my stories.  Welcome to Senior Citizenland, my friends!

Anyhoo.  TRQ and I had a conversation about our life mottos the other day.  This is how it went.

TRQ:  I like that one that says everything will work out in the end.  And if things haven't worked out, it's not the end yet.

ME:  I always say, "Things could be worse and they probably will be."

TRQ:  That's horrible.

ME:  Is it?

TRQ:  Yes.  It's depressing.

ME:  Oddly, I find it comforting.

And then of course TRQ looked at me like with that familiar expression she has--like, did your dad and I accidentally pick up the wrong baby at the baby store that day?

But here's why I find my motto comforting.  I've had enough life experience to suggest that YES!  SOMETIMES THINGS GET WORSE!  And so it's a good idea to actively appreciate and enjoy the good stuff you have now before you end up in a wheelchair.

See?  That's positive.  I'm a positive person.

Because you haven't heard enough about my nose horn . . .

I wrote a column about it.  OF COURSE I DID!

Sometimes life doesn't turn out the way you thought it would

Well, it never does, actually.  But some unexpected journeys are particularly difficult.

About eight (is it even possible?) years ago,  I had the fabulous experience of working with Shelley Williams at my home away from home, The King's English.  She and I clicked right away in spite of our age difference--the Anne-of-Green-Gables-Kindred-Spirits thing.  In fact, Shelley clicked with everyone at work.  We loved her madly then, and we still do.

Last year Shelley and Trevor welcomed a beautiful baby girl into their lives with serious, serious medical issues.  Eloise spent the first nine months of her life in the NICU at both Primary and Utah Valley.  As you can imagine, this young family's medical bills are staggering, which is why Shelley is looking for different ways to relieve the financial burden.  To this end, she has created this fundraising page.

Love to Shelley and her family.