Monday, December 12, 2016


In light of the fact that half the country voted for Mr. Trump, I'd like to make these observations:
1.  I don't believe that half the country is racist and/or misogynist. I know fabulous compassionate people who voted for Trump.
2.  I believe, despite the fears of many, that our union will survive.

Having said that, I was deeply disappointed in us as a nation for electing someone like Trump for these reasons.
1.  While not all his supporters are racist and/or misogynist, he clearly legitimized both of those currents in our country by the tone and rhetoric of his campaign.
2.  While I probably won't be personally affected by his presidency (I seriously doubt he'll last out for the four years anyway) I do think there are marginalized populations that will be adversely affected.

Which is why I've decided to put my money where my mouth is and actively reach out in ways I may have been too complacent to do previously.  In light of this, I want to brag about my Mormon ward.  Our ward has adopted a family of refugees.  And guess what.  They're Muslim.  There's no intention to convert these people.  There's only the intention to assist and respect.

I could not be prouder of the individuals in my ward who have made this happen.

Thursday, December 8, 2016


I loved this melancholy post by my friend Dr. Write.  After reading it I've been thinking about a certain brand of the melancholy to which I am susceptible--Holiday Melancholy.

A long, long, LONG time ago the Coach told me Christmas always makes him cry.  I was surprised by this remark because I knew he likes Christmas.  He likes Christmas so much he left our outdoor Christmas lights on for years.  They were blue.  And when you turned them on in July, you could see what you were doing when you played night games with the neighborhood kids.

(Which reminds me.  One summer night when our Christmas lights were on, a group of BYU students stopped by our house and sang Christmas carols.  Score!)

Anyway, I get what he means now.  In my case it's a sweet melancholy.  I love Christmas but I'm always aware of the ghosts of Christmas pasts.  And while I am happy they return for a seasonal encore, they make me a little sad, too, you know?

I'm having one of those moments right now.  I'm sitting at my desk, pretending to write, while listening to an old SING ALONG WITH MITCH album we found in my parents' storage unit this summer.  This record was one of the soundtracks of my little girl girlhood.  And yes.  It makes me cry a little.

In a good way.

Wednesday, December 7, 2016

A take on loyalty

So I've been spending some time with TRQ and the Coach lately to make up for my teenage years when I was no help at all.

Anyway, I've noticed how TRQ has a houseful of plants, most of which are a) ancient and b) struggling.  Like, if there were such a thing as walkers for plants, these guys would be all SIGN ME UP!

Here's the deal.  I've always thought of Coach as the gardener.  He grew lovely daylilies and primroses and dahlias and asters back in the day.  Tomatoes, too, sometimes, as well as chard although no one in the family knew what the hell to do with chard.  But I never saw TRQ out in the garden.

Still, I realized yesterday that she's an indoor gardener.  Once she acquires a plant, she keeps it forever--even if it's yearning to have the plug pulled.   She's plant loyal.

Tuesday, December 6, 2016

What I heard

This morning before I headed to Provo TRQ asked if I would stop at Williams Sonoma and buy some wassail.  Two boxes of it.

I wasn't sure what she and the Coach wanted with wassail (two boxes of it) but okay fine.  They're entitled to all the wassail they want is what I say.  So I stopped at W-Son at Trolley Square on my way out of town and asked the clerk to guide me to the Wassail Promised Land.

She look at me and said, "Um.  We don't sell wassail."

ME:  Um.  Yes, you do.  TRQ said she bought some here.

CLERK:  Um.  Okay.  We do sell mulling spices.  Over there.

So I checked out the mulling spices, which technically came in bottles, not in boxes, and I thought, "Maybe TRQ wants this" because it is true that sometimes her directions are on the vague side--like the way she calls "Jo-Jo's" from Trader Joe's "dingle-dangles," which is a MUCH better name anyway, I think you'll agree.

Still.  When I looked at the bottles of mulling spices I thought what the hell?

So then I pulled the wassail card again with the clerk who was friendly but firm.  NO WASSAIL AT THE INN.

Finally I pulled out my phone and called TRQ who assured me she bought wassail at W-Son and then spelled out the brand name for me, which I spelled out for the clerk who said OH!  WAFFLE!  YES!  WE HAVE BOXES OF WAFFLE MIX.

Ken Cannon says I'm going deaf.  I think Ken Cannon might be right.

Saturday, December 3, 2016

Buying a tree today

So Ken Cannon, wearing his Cubs hat, and I went tree shopping today.  As we checked out, one of the tree guys saw Ken Cannon and started shouting SOX!  SOX!  SOX!  You know.  As in the other Chicago team, i.e. the White Sox.

We laughed.  Hahahahahahaha.  And then the tree guy went "DA BEARS!"  So then Ken Cannon said, "I like the Bears," at which point the tree guy started shouting "PACKERS!  PACKERS!  PACKERS!" who, of course, are the Bears' arch rivals.

As we walked to our car I said to my husband, "That guy could be a Cannon."

Cannons all have a touch of Oppositional Defiance Disorder, which is why we all love them so.

Friday, December 2, 2016

Whenever I step outside barefoot in the winter

Okay, YES.  I do that.  To get the newspaper or take out the recycling or whatever.

Why?  Because I'm too lazy to put on my shoes.

Still.  I don't stay outside for long and for sure I don't walk across Wyoming.  Which is the point.  I have to say when it gets cold like this, I think about the early Mormons who trekked from here to there in unfriendly weather, and while I am not a pioneer-phile, my respect grows.

Indeed it does.

Thursday, December 1, 2016

Well, why not?

So, I've had this idea kicking around in my head for awhile.  And because I know how to write novels for young readers (sort of), I keep trying to turn it into a novel for young readers.  But I find that the adults interest me in the story as much as the kid does and lo it did occur to me that maybe I have an idea for an adult novel.


And then I went, "Wait.  I'm old.  I'M OLD.  I'm a grownup now."

Which means I can do anything I damn well please.