When the lack of the letter "t" makes something even more hysterical

Clever reader and good friend Radagast noted that I left out a crucial "t" in the post below.  Can you see where?  (Although I find the lack of this particular "t" makes me pretty happy!)

Well now HERE'S a surprising thing I found in my diary when I was reading it last night

I'm referring to the diary I kept when I was 12.  Apparently my parents were on the road, which prompted this outburst:  "I wish Mom was here.  I need to talk to her.  All his sex business is getting me down."

Okay, I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT I WAS REFERRING TO when I wrote that.  Trust me.  I was NOT precocious on this front.  I think I was still mostly riding my bike around the neighborhood, pretending it was horse.  Here's the advice my adult English teacher self would give to my (apparently) distraught 12 year-old self:  "This is too vague and also 'awk.'  Details, Sweetheart.  Details."

Why little boys crack me up

The Sunbeam teachers didn't show up for Primary today, so the president, Steph, and I took the class of 3-4 year olds, and improvised.

One of the things we did was to sing "Once There Was a Snowman."  You know how it goes . . .

Once there was a snowman, snowman, snowman,
Once there was a snowman--tall, tall, tall!
In the sun he melted, melted, melted,
In the sun he melted--small, small, small!

Awesome!  I can hear you singing from here!  Anyway, half-way through one of the "melteds," two little boys in the class started singing, "In the sun he mel-POOED, mel-POOED, mel-POOED."  And then they collapsed in helpless laughter.

And seriously?   I wanted to, too.

In the company of very old women

When I was little I spent a lot of time with my grandmother and her sisters Bea and Blanche.

Bea and Blanche were Reverse Doppelgangers, photo negatives, opposites.  Bea was always a HEY-THE-GLASS-IS-HALF-FULL-AND-IMA-GONNA-DRINK-IT-AFTER-WHICH-IMA-GONNA-DRINK-YOUR-GLASS-TOO!  And Blanche was all, "Why should I bother to drink a glass that's half-empty?  I'd rather just die of starvation anyway."

Anyway.  For some reason I was talking about these sisters to Kathy this morning on our walk, and I told her about Blanche's reaction when she met Philip (who was a newborn) for the first time.  She looked at him and said, "They come into this world and they go out of this world."  Then she shuffled off to Buffalo.  Wearing a robe.  Because that's the main thing I remember about this conversation.  She was sitting in TRQ's living room wearing a robe even though it was the middle of the day and she didn't live at our house.

Why was she wearing a robe?

Isn't life mysterious?

Blow, winds, and crack your cheeks!

That's some straight-up King Lear for y'all today.

Meanwhile, I tried to post a picture of leafy sidewalks (the winds have been blowing and cracking all morning), but it keeps coming out sideways.  Lisa B!  I need a tutorial!

Anyway, as I was raking leaves I thought about the things I'm grateful for (it's November, you know) that I wanted but didn't get.   Like sisters.  Daughters.  And a bigger yard.

 I always fantasize about having a Tasha Tudor type spread with lovely old-fashioned gardens everywhere.  In the spring I would fill them with daffodils, Lenten roses, hyacinth, tulips, peonies, peonies, peonies, and lily-of-the-valley.  Summer?  Cosmos, daisies, roses, phlox, and red daylilies, of course.  And come fall those gardens would explode with asters and anemones.

But when it comes right down to it, my little garden keeps me busy enough w/o overwhelming me.  That's something to be grateful for, right?

Ugh. Facebook.

Seriously, don't you wish the day after an election that facebook had never been invented?
That is all for today.  Meanwhile, keep the St. George suggestions coming!

This is for Jake

. . . because he is kind enough to read my blog regularly.

Jake wrote to ask if I could recommend some St. George awesomeness.  (Emma?  Are you reading this?  I need your help!)  He'd like to know what to see and do (and eat) in St. George because he'll be spending some time there soon, and since I go there often, he figured I would know.

But here's the problem.  When I go to St. George, I don't do anything but eat wings and watch whatever game happens to be in season on TV.  I also sit in a hot tub.  Occasionally I'll go get a hamburger at In-n-Out and rhubarb pie at Croshaw's, but that's about it.  In other words, I slip into a mild coma when I do St. George.

So I need your recommendations here, people.  Restaurants!  Hikes!  Activities!  Help my friend Jake, okay?