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.
Wednesday, August 8, 2012
Tuesday, August 7, 2012
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 . . .
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 . . .
Monday, August 6, 2012
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.
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.
Saturday, August 4, 2012
Friday, August 3, 2012
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.
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.
Thursday, August 2, 2012
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.
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.
Wednesday, August 1, 2012
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.
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.
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