A Little Too Much Love

When I was about six or seven, I was going to have a birthday party! My cousin, Wendy, (the double-cousin who is only one month older than I am) called me on the phone one day to ask me if I'd rather have a doll or . . .

hmm . . . something else. A game, maybe? I really don't remember.

Anyway, I didn't know what to tell her. I had been taught that it was not polite to ask someone for a present, but Wendy was asking me what I wanted. So I asked my mom what I should say, and she said to tell my cousin to get whatever she thought was best. And I did.

But after we hung up I instantly had a change of heart. I called Wendy right back and asked her for a doll (which made my mom tell me I had very bad manners).

On the day of the birthday party Wendy showed up with a big, prettily-wrapped box. And inside was the only present I remember getting that day: an orange-haired, green-eyed, boy doll called "Georgie." (I just called him George.)

George and Georgette
It looks like someone cut this Georgie's hair.

George was my very favorite, most played-with doll of all time. And that's saying something because I loved my dolls. Wendy had George's twin, Georgette, and when I slept over at Wendy's house George went with me; when she slept over at my house Georgette came along so we could play "George and Georgette."  I played with George almost every time I had friends over to my house. A couple years later my mom got me the blond-haired, blue-eyed version of Georgette—then my friends and I played "George and Georgette" too. But even though I loved my new Georgette, George was still my favorite.

This is what my George looked like when I pulled
him out of storage a few months ago.

After I learned to ride a bike, George went on a ride with me (tied to the back of the seat by his legs). Some of his premature hair-loss is due to a fall from the bike and the short dragging that followed. More of his hair—and his eyelashes—fell out when I tried to clean up his road-rash.

I remember watching in distress and horror as his eyelashes 
slid over his face and ran down the drain!

When his soft body started tearing from all the love it got, I stitched it back together.

When I was about ten or eleven I took apart his worn-out clothes and used them as a pattern to make him a new outfit.

 Not bad, but if you look at it closely it does kind of 
look like a ten-year-old made it.
The gingham ribbon at the neck was too frayed to 
replace, and I had a thing against buttons, 
so I never sewed them back on either.

When I got too big to play with dolls George (and Georgette) sat in the place of honor, on my pillow, every day for years and years—maybe even until I got married.

I loved them!

So what would ever possess me to take this best-beloved doll, the favorite toy of my childhood, whom I've kept safe (if you don't count all the childish rough-housing) for over forty years, and tear him limb from limb and yank out all his hair?

Was it the morbid pleasure of taking macabre pictures?

Was it just sheer ghoulishness?

What ever came over me?

Well . . . I blame it on the internet and YouTube.

I recently discovered (while searching for an orange wig for George) that I could actually re-root his hair, and I learned where to buy the hair too. And I am so excited! I have high, high hopes of restoring George to all of his original cuteness. And then he will be here for my grandbabies to love to death, too. (Note to my kids: get married and start having babies!)

And so, soon, very soon, I will complete the rehabilitation of George. Yay!

Terror on the Streets!

OK. Well, I do live in Utah's Dinosaurland, but there are no dinosaurs running down our street wreaking havoc.
Still, it's a great picture, yes? 

Actually, today I am talking about that dirty E-word—the one that is eight letters long and, therefore, the equivalent of two four-letter words. ;-)

Well, no. I am not talking about exercise after all.
Instead I will talk about FUN!

As I considered the dilemma of how to get myself moving without paying a monthly fee, and doing something that would be fun to do by myself—but also fun to do with other people, something I would enjoy, and that wouldn't give me shin-splints, the obvious choice was...

...BIKE-RIDING! 

Yaaaayyyyy!

So I talked Bruce into getting a couple of bikes for him and for me—it wasn't a hard-sell. Last Friday we went bike-shopping. Now my friends who are bike-snobs (which is OK... I, myself, am a music-snob, and a cooking snob...) might poo-poo the places we looked for bikes:  a pawn shop, a thrift store, K-mart, and, finally, Walmart. Walmart won because they had some bikes that had been returned and so were on an excellent markdown. (Bike-snob friends, skip to the next paragraph...)
We paid less for both bikes and two helmets than we would have for one bike at regular Walmart prices. Good deal! Maybe on a future day, after lots and lots of riding, I too will become a bike-snob. ;-) But for now I'm very happy to have the equivalent of a little girls' ride-around-the-neighborhood bike.

We took our two little bikes home, and that evening we had to try them out. My very first bike-ride in twenty-five years—since before anyone even thought about wearing bike-helmets!

Frankly, I was a little terrified.

I learned to ride a bike when I was between eight and ten years old; all my parents' assistance did me no good. It was my cousin, Wendy, who wouldn't let me not know how to ride, who got me biking all on my own. And once I realized I could do it, I could do it! I used to ride up to the top of my mom's street then turn around and pedal just long enough to get going really fast, then put both feet up on the crossbar, stick my arms straight out to the side and speed down the road. (I would kill my kids if I saw them doing that. My mom might have killed me too if she'd ever seen me doing it.) No fear.

But not now!

Bruce adjusted my seat for me then, while he adjusted his own bike seat, I took my second drive around the neighborhood all by myself—soooo brave!

I have discovered that it really is true that once you learn to ride a bike you never forget.The scary part was getting on to the bike and getting it started. I stood there looking at my new bicycle for a good two minutes, contemplating how to mount it; finally I took it to the curb where my short, little legs could have some help. It turns out that for the first ride my seat was higher than I was comfortable with; once Bruce lowered it (as far as it would go—which made him roll his eyes at me) getting on wasn't such a big problem.

Once astride the bicycle, I was a little nervous and shaky. I wobbled up and down the streets, hands tightly squeezing the handle-grips, feeling the air through my helmet-vents.

Check out my posture! I look like one of those Victorian ladies. If I wore a corset while I was riding, my figure might be closer to hers too. Or maybe not...

But the truly terrifying part was stopping! And trying to get off of the bike again without breaking myself and the bike! As I rode around, I thought and thought about how to do it and couldn't get the idea in my head for the life me. I started to imagine myself  riding around in circles for eternity—until I starved to death or fell down from exhaustion. Had I not been thinking about it so hard it might not have been a problem. But I have faith that, after a few more rides, it will all be as natural as it ever was.

Bruce looks totally natural; I look pretty darn stiff. But it'll come back to me, you wait and see. And it will come back quick, too!

Well, on Friday evening we took three spins around our neighborhood. I got pretty winded pedaling up the slight, slight inclines of our roads. And my whole body—legs, arms, and back—felt like jello when we were done. But with each ride I got a little more comfortable on the bike. And guess what?

It was FUN!

What's in a name?

"That which we call a rose. By any other name would smell as sweet."

Shakespeare had something there.

I've been thinking—for ages—that I need to get more exercise. But, oh, yuck! Exercise. It dredges up pictures of walking (or worse, running) for at least 30 minutes a day, often by myself. Or doing weight-training, or using a treadmill, or doing workout videos. Exercise. Then I, too, can lower my BMI and be healthy and I can look and feel like the latest, hottest, cute thing. (Or so they say.) But, oh yuck! Must it be exercise?

Exercise. A word that says "get off your butt," or "you need to shape up," or "your BMI is too high and you're going to have a heart attack and die—after you struggle with diabetes for a while." A word that is equivalent to hard work, or chore.

All these people who want to make us be less fat and more healthy ought to come up with a different word—or phrase. Instead of saying we need to get more exercise, they ought to suggest going out and having fun, don't you think? I mean, say the words out loud: "EXERCISE."
Now say, "FUN." Which one sounds better to you?

Here, I'll say them to you: "You need to go out and get more exercise."

Ponder that for a minute.

Now: "You need to go out and have more fun."

Which would you rather do?

Now, I've been wanting to get my body moving for a long, long while. Not just so I can lose weight (which I do want), but because my brain is tired of being sedentary (another ugly word). When I am swamped in, and laden with inactivity my mind turns to mush, and it gets more irritable too. But what is fun for me?

So my problem is finding something that is fun for me.

I have friends who love running every day; they enter marathons and everything. I could actually go out walking or running every day, but to me that feels tedious. Exercise: not fun. Also it gives me shin-splints which is extra not fun-ness.  But I love taking ballet classes—FUN! But I can't afford to go out and take a ballet class. Also I would feel guilty taking ballet classes unless I put my girls in dance classes too, which would be even more expensive. :-/

Some people get workout videos and enjoy doing them in the privacy of their own home. To me that is exercise, not fun. I tried doing my very own ballet classes in the privacy of my own home, but that was only fun for two or three times. But going out and taking a belly-dance class? —that would be fun. But there's the money thing—and the guilt thing—again.

I might be able to get a group of friends (or my kids) to play basketball with me, but flying balls are scary. And I have no idea of the rules. And I get shin-splints. Scary exercise; not fun.

But, but, but... Too many "buts."

So I had to think of something FUN to do, that I really could do. And I think I've got it! I'm sure of it, even. But that is for the next post. In the meantime, what do you think about exercise vs. fun? And what is your idea of a fun, not-exercising ;-) activity? I'd like to know. :-)

Family Vacation

Last week our little family took a little vacation. Camelot closed on July 2, which means we get to have Bruce full-time again; we packed up  after church on July 3 and left for Salt Lake at about 6:30 p.m.

the traditional "car selfie as Jason calls it
It's a little weird to only have six kids with us, but Michael was already in Salt Lake, and Lindsey is working at Camp Steiner.

We got to Dad's (Grandpa North's) house around 9:30 p.m. Michael has been staying there for the last three months while Dad is in Chile so we were happy to see him (and I think he was happy to see us too). We usually stay at Dad's house when we go to Salt Lake because he has plenty of room for all of us.

On Monday morning (July 4) we went to the Copperhill 7th Ward's annual Independence Day breakfast picnic at the park. We had the camera with us, but we were too busy catching up with old friends to take pictures.  :-/  After the picnic we went to Melanie's house. My kids dug the camera out of my purse and took pictures of each other, but none of Melanie's family. (We really need to get better at this whole camera thing.)

If you look really, really closely (and you know what to look for)
you can tell that the kids are at Melanie's house.

Then on Monday afternoon we went to Aunt Marian's annual 4th of July pool party. This time Becky took the pictures—that's probably why we actually have some.

Bruce and me, trying out our new shades

fun in the water

Scott went home with us, and Jessica went home with Brad and Becky that evening. Here are all the kids doing the most fun thing they could ever do when they all get together...

I have no idea what fantastic game this is.

On Tuesday, the 5th, we went to our house in West Valley and chopped down and dug out the weeds in the front yard. I spent the entire time we were there dusting, sweeping, and vacuuming the house (2 1/2 hours!) Naturally, we didn't take any before & after pics—or any pics at all. That night we went to see my mom, and Mark and Robin (my brother and his wife) were there! They had just come up to visit from Arizona. We only stayed for a few minutes, but we would be going back for a real visit later.

On Wednesday, the 6th I cut Bruce's hair. Later that afternoon we went to Temple Square and looked around a little while Michael had a job interview.

Just take the picture, Mom!
(Hey! I just realized that there are eight kids here—it's even the right number of boys and the right number of girls. But still no Michael or Lindsey in this photo. How funny!)

This is a more cheerful picture.
But what is Brandon up to?

Do you see it?

After Temple Square, we had a quick dinner at home and then went to visit Mom, Mark, and Robin. When we got there my brother Gregory was there, too! And before Greg left, Melanie and Emalee showed up. Yay! (Naturally, we forgot to take pictures. But we were busy visiting, so there.)

On Thursday we just relaxed at home. We got Sherlock, Season 3 from the library and watched the first episode. (By the way, I have just recently become totally hooked on Sherlock.)

Friday, July 8 was my parents' 63rd wedding anniversary. We went to see my dad in his care center and had a picnic with him, my mom, Melanie, and Emalee. A nice lunch, visiting, singing, and... (this time we remembered) ... picture-taking.

Dad, talking to Melanie

Some time during our visit Bruce decided he had to take a picture of this dandelion. He was taking a long time (the camera wanted to focus on the grass and not on the dandelion), so I went to join him for a minute—and get him to rejoin the rest of us.

Now, I know we took a picture of our whole family with my mom and dad, but I don't seem to have it on my camera. I wonder where that photo is?

Dad and Mom
July 8, 2016

Emalee and Melanie with Dad and Mom

While we were picnicking with my parents, Becky (our sister-in-law) had her new baby, Ellie! Now that  was good timing—you would almost think they had planned to have that baby just in time for me to see her. We got to go visit Ellie Saturday evening.

Elinor (Eleanor?) Rebecca North
Isn't she sweet?

Ellie with me, with Becky, and with Lindsey

On Sunday, the 10th, we just wrapped things up. Went to church in the 7th ward, visited with Melanie, and Brad & Becky one last time, took Lindsey to catch the bus back to Steiner (we had picked her up on Saturday afternoon), straightened up Dad's house a little, packed up, and headed back home to Vernal.

And that was our fun-filled, action-packed, week-long vacation. We had fun!

Transformation

Well the play has run its course. Bruce had a great time with it and, I have to admit, I couldn't keep my eyes off of that handsome Sir Dinadan any time he was on the stage!

But once Camelot was over, it was time to take care of my hairy husband.

Here he is at a 4th of July party.

First we cut his hair:

Bruce is a very trusting man. Not only did he let me dye his hair and beard, but now he's having me cut his hair too.

phase 1

And here he is with his hair all trimmed, but with the goatee still intact:

Not bad!

After the haircut, he played around with different facial hair styles:

Which one is your favorite?

The kids got to see each phase of the process:

The look on Kaylie's face says it all.

My sainted mother! Sir Dinadan has youthened! Or at least cleaned up...

before and after

So, I like him no matter how he comes. But, I have to say, he feels nicer now. In fact, I think he has an awfully kissable mouth! ;-)