I’m posting a brief little number at Segullah today. A little conversation I overheard. I’m not really sure if the participants were talking about appliances or about sex or if they even knew.

But I was amused.

Because I’m a good news last kind of girl:

So over:Seriously so blessed. No. Don’t hate me. I LOVE the concept. She (despite what’s going around the rumor mill, I have it on good authority that she is not he) can be brilliant. It’s one of those things that makes me smack myself on the side of the head and say, “I wish I’d have thought of that!” It’s just that some of the commenters should seriously be so burned at the stake. Like seriously.

100 degrees. I know, yesterday was the first day. But it was also only the 1st of July and July and August are looming pretty long and hot. Truth is, I don’t really care how hot it is during the day as long as I can cool my house down at night to a sweet 68 or 70 at night. But the last two nights were unbearable and I keep waking up feeling hung over. I’m considering moving down to the basement until September.

VBS. Visible bra straps. I have no idea how it is remotely related to the economy in China (see link source) but I don’t care how cute you are or how sexy your bra is, VBS is not attractive. I feel the same about any visible underwear. Nothing screams “too much information” like advertising the fact you are actually wearing undergarments.

So lovin’:

The crickets. Really. They serenade me to sleep every night and then sing chorus with the birds EARLY every morning to wake me up. So much better than an alarm clock, I tell you.

My garden. It’s teeny and fighting mightily against the neighbor’s playful kittens (bye bye pumpkin patch) our renegade bunny, quail, and a host of omnivorous insects (as well as invasive weeds). But I love it. In a premoniscient (no, it is not a real word, but it should be) move I planted corn this year. Which is great. Because already this year the corner corn stands have doubled the price on their corn. (It used to be $3/dozen. It’s already $6/dozen. That’s literally highway robbery, don’t you think?) I will have a bounty of tomatoes. Whew! I’m so glad Wocky Boy is in El Paso.

America’s Freedom Festival. Say what you will about Provo, we do the 4th of July right. Hit the children’s parade last Saturday. Short and sweet (literally–they threw out candy) and in the shade. And I’ll suffer through the crowds and the heat Friday to do the Grand Parade. Because it’s tradition and because I’m a bit of a masochist. (Well, that and it’s Z~’s last parade.) The balloons are a blast (although getting a bit too crowded). And I love being able to miss the crowds entirely and watch the fireworks from my neighbor across the street’s front lawn (one used to have a great view from my house until the big house went up next door). We’ll be serving homemade ice cream. Want to come?

So what about you?

What are you so over?

What are you so lovin’?

I don’t do death. I don’t linger in the past.

I do life. And I do now.

It’s easier that way. Trust me.

I don’t remember death days. Except when one of my best friend’s daughters–who is also one of my dear friends–died on the 4th of July. I don’t do cemeteries or graves. I bake birthday cakes with caramel frosting and buy snow cones in remembrance. I give my friend’s granddaughter a pie pan and the recipe for her grandmother’s pie crust as a wedding present. I give love and lingering hugs to the motherless daughters dear friends have left behind. I tell stories, remember favorite songs and try hard to remember the sounds of their voices and the shapes of their faces.

So I’d completely forgotten what day it was today.

I went to work, as usual. Worked too late, as usual. Came home and checked my e-mail, as usual. Avoided paying the bills till the very last minute, as usual. Got ready to head for the ball park, as usual. But all day long I kept thinking about my uncle, my dad’s younger brother. I knew he and his wife were due to begin a three year stint as mission presidents in Mexico the first of July. It’s been nagging at me for weeks how I needed to give them both a hug and say good-bye before they left for so long.

I had no idea how to find them or if I even could see them. First I called my grandmother. It turns out she had just spent an hour with them at the MTC because they were leaving at 6:00 in the morning. She had his cell phone number and thought that although he was likely too busy, it was probably OK if I called.

And so I did. I asked him how my favorite Uncle Steve was. He told me how great it was to hear my voice. I told him how badly I needed to say good-bye and asked if he had even two minutes I could meet them and give him a big hug. He told me I could have much more than two minutes and how much it meant to him that I would call and come over.

We met them in their hotel room at the Marriott. Sherilyn told me about how amazing it was to receive a call to serve and how much they loved the apostles they had met and the other couples who were in their same shoes. Everyday men and women getting ready to leave their homes and their lives and their families behind for three years in order to serve the Lord. Steve told us how words couldn’t express the love and spirit they had felt or the wisdom they had learned during their training. They both shared their love for the Lord and for the people they would be serving and serving with. We stayed much longer than two minutes but finally insisted it was time to leave. Steve invited us to join them for family prayer and offered a gracious and generous blessing, mindful of our family and our needs and of the members of our extended family who likely will not still be with us when they return.

I gave my Uncle Steve one more hug goodbye. He gives the best hugs. I have long relied on the hugs of my dear uncles to remind me of the love and embrace of my father. Finally I stepped away and then Steve asked for one more. “This one is for my brother,” he said.

And it indeed it was. I could almost remember what it was like to feel my dad’s arms around me. To know how much he loved me. And to hear him tell me he was proud of me.

It wasn’t until a couple of hours later when I sat down to write that I remembered.

Today is June 26.It was on this day in 1982 that my father died.

Thank you Uncle Steve. For your spirit. Your strength. Your faith. Your love. Your hug.

And especially for the hug from my dad.

God speed.

Congratulations Sundbirds, City Softball Champs 2008

She can steal. She can slide. That’s my girl!

That’s my boy! After going 1-11 during regular season they are now 1-1 in tournament play (update: 2-1). They won tonight 11-10. (Or something like that.)

I don’t know whether I’m prouder of him for being such a great slider or of myself for figuring out how to upload video on my blog.

Hmmm. Maybe you can teach an old dog new tricks.

FRANK: I could never ever be with anyone who doesn’t take politics as seriously as I do.

The person in front of them turns around.

PERSON IN FRONT OF THEM: Do you mind?

FRANK: A hot dog is singing. You need quiet while a hot dog is singing?

The two of them sit there.

KATHLEEN: I have something to tell you. I didn’t vote.

FRANK: What?

KATHLEEN: In the last mayoral election, when Rudy Giuliani was running against Ruth Messinger, I went to get a manicure and forgot to vote.

FRANK: Since when do you get manicures?

KATHLEEN: Oh, I suppose you could never be with a woman who gets manicures.

FRANK: Forget it. It’s okay. I forgive you.

KATHLEEN: You forgive me.

I wasn’t even getting a manicure. I went to work. I went to the allergist. I went to the post office. I bought groceries. I took my kid to softball practice…

And I forgot to vote.

Shame on me. While I do believe I would better have remembered if I had actually wanted to vote FOR some candidates rather than AGAINST a whole bunch of other candidates, my failure to vote is still my fault. I don’t deserve to live.

On the other hand, while performing my *civic duty by mailing off a (late) and semi-lame b.day package to the most completely heroic military wife I know, I also did not one, but two good deeds. In the post office no less. If I kept that up I could give a whole new meaning to the words “going postal.” It’s amazing what not having to wait in line and being greeted and helped by friendly postal workers can do for a girl. I do deserve to live.

While at the post office, however, I also mailed out a credit card bill. Late. (Well, it’s not late yet, but it will be.) I am in a bad funk about bills and money. I am in denial. It’s almost as if some part of me believes if I don’t open the bill, write out the check, or stick it in the mail (steady tech friends…I do pay most of my bills online, but payment by check is so much more visual) then the sad state of my bank account really isn’t true. If tree falls… It wasn’t until later while I was dating the check for some lovely note cards from Tryst Press “July 24″ I realized I had post dated my credit card payment. By an entire month.I don’t deserve to live.

I’m hot and tired. My arm is swollen from the shot. And my house is a bit trashed from my absence today. I’d really like to go curl up with a good book or a good movie. But I’m going to go scrounge up some semblance of food for my kids. At least the one of them who is yet home. (Yeah, I know. It’s almost 9:30 p.m. That’s early for us this summer.) I do deserve to live.

*note to La Yen. Of course you know I sent you just a little something out of love, not out of civic duty. I was trying to make up for not having voted and working in the words “civic duty” seemed like a good idea at the time.

Can I be honest with you? I’ve had enough of the Utah bashing lately. So I’m posting a rant and rave today over at Segullah. Join me? You get to rant and rave too, but only about the state in which you actually live.

I’m posting a kinder and gentler post there tomorrow. Sick of me yet?

Wait! Don’t answer that.

If you’re like me, you kind of have to psych yourself up to go to the pumps these days. I have to make myself completely numb and then go to my happy place, and whatever I do, I absolutely cannot look at the pump. Or the receipt. Or the balance on my credit card bill.

Today, however, I realized those days of mindless filling the pockets of oil executives will have to cease. I actually drove out of my way on an empty tank to put in a few quarts of blood gallons of gas because someone told me it was only $3.91 at Gas-n-Go.

I pulled up to the tank and read the price as $4.03. Although I never do this (get out of the car and speak with surly gas station attendants), I marched right into the store and asked what was the correct price. The clerk explained to me the advertised price is the cash price. The price at the pump is the credit card price. Looking back at the BIG sign I could now see “cash” written in small print beside the price.

Brilliant move. Because you know, I regularly run around town with enough cash in my pocket to purchase a small country fill up my mini-van.

It’s Garfield’s birthday today.

I’m not a huge fan. Except that on those occasional days when I feel a little grumpy Garfield makes me look like the Queen of Nice.

However, today is also L~’s birthday! At some point in the middle of the night she officially turned from tween to teen. Here are some of things I absolutely love about my L~:

She was awarded the most intense athlete award for the delicate sport of hockey.

She exudes enthusiasm, passion and creativity.

When one of those mean girl girly girl girls came up to her in YW with an obvious invitation to exclude other girls who were present (”my ‘group’ is doing this tomorrow…won’t you please do it with us?”) she boldly said, “I don’t belong to any group. I’m friends with everyone.”

She truly is friends with everyone.

She is responsible for once having had a parent call me and threaten legal action because she was giving his son a hard time. I did not really see this as a good thing until she explained to me she was doing what she did in order to protect a girl who was one of her close friends.

She has this intuitiveness and perceptiveness about her that is beyond her years. She sees through games and isn’t afraid to call people on it when they’re messing with her–even adults. I admire and respect that.

She is an awful lot of fun to be around when she wants to be.

She can make and/or fix just about anything out of duct tape. In fact, her duct-tape creations have such a reputation around her school that when another girl (a girl who, L~ sadly reported, could afford nicer duct tape in better colors) started to copy-cat her art other students started to complain she was stealing L~’s designs.

In a move reminiscent of when I started calling myself “Roni King” in sixth grade (don’t ask), she has changed the “i” in her name to a “y,” the “s” to a “z,” and the “y” to an “i.” Guess which version of her name I am putting on the cake?

She embraces color and boldness and life.

She is my daughter. She’s one of the best tomboys I have ever seen. I am proud of her strength and her courage. And I love the way she loves her life.

Happy Birthday Suzie Q!

Remember those summers when you were still a kid? The ones that seemed so full of free time they were going to last forever? The ones during which there were days you had nothing better to do than to lie on the grass on your back and look up at the clouds and try do discover fish or dinosaurs or the face of your third grade teacher?

This is definitely not that summer. But even though summer doesn’t officially begin until Saturday, I am still loving my summer. I am loving the fact that this year I made it until the middle of June before turning on my AC (frankly, after my last post, I’m extremely thankful to have a functional AC knock on wood). I am loving spending every night at the ball park (still). I’m even learning to relish all the aspects of it–the hot sun beating down on my head. Sweat rolling down my back. Dust flying up in my face as girl after girl slides into home. (Congratulations Sunbirds, who finished the regular season in first place! Dear Cubs, I am sorry you are currently 0 and 8, but it has been so much fun to see how much you all are improving! Good luck Cubs and Sundbirds in tournament play!)

We inaugurated the almost-official arrival of summer on Sunday night, with the first batch of homemade ice cream. Loganberry. It was delicious. I wish you could have been here.

So what about you? I’m taking the cue from my good friend Sue and declaring today de-lurk day. I don’t have a stat counter so I really have no idea if anyone is reading. But I always hope if you’re reading here you’ll feel comfortable enough to comment here.

It’s your turn now: How’s your summer going so far? Got any plans? Or is just not having plans part of the joy of summer?