Jabberwocky for 2003

Rachel left this morning for a new life at UCLA. Anne and I are running errands to get ready to Tawana's director debut.

I am going to go spend every Wednesday night at the Family History Center.

I am going to get out of bed on Sunday mornings and do a couple of scrapbook pages every Sunday before Sacrament Meeting. (We have late church this year.)

Anne has gone, but not before she wrote a song:

If you could hie to Collab-net

In the twinkling of an eye

You would find that Leonard works there

And ask yourself "Why?"

etc.

January 1, 2003

Dear Family and Friends:

Happy New Year! This letter brings love and heartfelt good wishes for you and yours. This is a picture of me with a restored 1946 Piper Cub. One of last year’s resolutions was to have more adventures, and this flight was one of them. It was wonderful to have all my children home for Christmas, and to hear from each of you as you sent your letters and cards. (Some of you sent cards to my old address; remember that I’ve been at 2501 Bank Street 93304 for two years now!) You can also email me at franny@inreach.com, or if you ever want to know what I’m doing or what I’m thinking about, check out my weblog at http://www.crummy.com/jabberwocky.

I’m living all by myself this year. For company I have my German shepherd, Gretel, who at two has not left puppyhood yet, and my old cat Jellybean, who is ten and takes her job as the household pillow denter very seriously. I also adopted a lively little black and white kitten and named her Xochitl. I spend my time in the garden and doing scrapbooks for my children, doing family history, and teaching a couple of classes at the college. I miss working very much, being lonely for both the students and my coworkers, so I try to stay busy so I don’t feel all disabled and depressed. I am in charge of activities and the newsletter at church, which keeps me hopping.. And yes, 2003 will finally be the year I finish fixing up this house!

I also traveled some this last year. All three of my children had their wisdom teeth extracted within the same twelve months, so I went to play nurse to them. I made multiple trips to Utah and San Francisco. I went to Houston for niece Kristin’s wedding. I also visited my aunt LeJeune in Washington and served as an adult leader for a week of girls’ camp with the teens from church. The big deal of the year, however, was a trip to London. We spent most of the time visiting museums, but only got to see a tiny fraction of what is there, so I’ll have to go back. A highlight of the trip was seeing the fossil archaeopteryx as well as the immortal iguanodon thumb spike at the British Museum of Natural History.

One of the reasons to visit London was to see Rachel, who spent six months on study abroad in Europe, where she shopped, learned about history, shopped, traveled, shopped, studied hard, shopped, made friends with students from other campuses of the University of California, shopped, got to perform in Shakespeare’s Globe Theater, shopped....It was a treasure to my English teacher’s heart* to see my baby playing Portia (The Merchant of Venice) on stage at the Globe. Rachel is now a junior at UCLA. (*Yes, English teachers do have hearts!)

Susanna spent winter semester doing an internship in a Romanian orphanage. It was a wonderful experience for her, and she saw a lot of Eastern Europe. She wanted to bring a lot of orphans home with her, but I wouldn’t let her. She did bring home many absolutely fascinating souvenirs and tales of wild adventures. Susie is at BYU, where she is now a senior.

Leonard is still working at Collab.Net in San Francisco and enjoys his job very much. He has a wonderful girlfriend and a promising career. He went with me to London to visit his sister over Thanksgiving, and comes highly recommended as a museum-trotting companion.

As I enter my fourteenth year of living with AIDS, I reflect upon what a good life I have had, and how blessed I have been. I have a top-notch family, beautiful children, and wonderful friends, and I’ve lived in many interesting places and done a lot of fun things. I’m especially grateful for the gospel of Jesus Christ and the joy and fellowship I find there. Even as I find myself growing weaker, I reflect that I’ve lived fifty full and exciting years, and I know that my parents are waiting for me across the threshold to the next life. I can’t wait to tell Dad about the archaeopteryx!

Love, Frances

The sprinkler man said the timer I bought was missing the transformer, so I took it back to Home Depot. Lo and behold, (as I was informed by the customer service clerk) the transformer is built in, and we're going to have to hotwire it. Time to kiss up to Andy Smith again I guess.

The John Taylor lesson in Relief Socity almost got hijacked. Some people got off on pronouncing Charles Darwin to have been inspired by the Devil, saying how fortunate we are to know we are not descended from a "digusting amoeba" or a monkey, and other rants typical of people who have never read a word of the primary source but they sure have an opinion.

I sat there and growled quiet comments like "the poor chimpanzees, related to us!"

Then it got to where I was about to have to dive in and get in trouble, hang the consequences, but Sarah Wilson piped up and defended Science. She went up several notches in my (already high) estimation. Then an elderly sister quoted Elder Eyring very appropriately, and the RS teacher took a deep breath and got back on track. I had just been about to refer to my own father, a scientist who was educated at -- of all places-- BYU. He was brilliant, but also a man of deep faith, and he always said that church members who feel threatened by the advancement of knowledge are running scared because their own knowledge of the workings of the universe is so shallow.

Meanwhile, I am filing away in my head a "list" of people to avoid having deep doctrinal conversations with. I hope that 2003 won't be the year I bit my tongue off in Relief Society.

I really enjoy reading contemporary science writers like Hawking and Gould because I can see science today is moving towards a more congruent alignment with our theology. I'm very much looking forward to a discussion with my father on these points.

Here is what irritates me about Sunday School debates about evolution:

1. How many of these people have even read "The Origin of Species." (I myself confess I have never made it all the way through.) Gimmeabreak, how many church members have even read any James Talmadge or John Widsoe?

2. The nerve of humans, fancying themselves to be superior to animals. Just look in today's newspaper and tell me we're not savages. To those who are horrified at the thought that we are descended from monkeys, I reply, "Oh, the poor monkeys!" (Yes, I know that is not what science teaches, but a perusal of Christian bumper stickers tells me some people have learned otherwise.)

3. Most people's thought process is so, well, reductionist. Bumper sticker again: "God said it, I believe it, and that's it." Plus, they are so convinced that they are right and everyone else is wrong that they assume I agree.

Right now, I am reading Barzun's From Dawn to Decadence, and am fascinated with tracing the threads of various schools of thought through the centuries. I was already convinced that we have a ways to go philosophically, and if I hadn't been, this survey of five centuries would do the trick.

Jill Langley gave me a Round Tuit last night so hopefully such a disaster will never happen to me again.

Robert called me from the ski slope to rub it in. They ( my brothers and Susie) are skiing and I am grouting cracks in tile.

Pursuant to my new year's resolution I got up in the morning and worked on scrapbooking. I printed pictures of my visit to Aunt Jeuney's and sorted all the "before" pictures of the house. I decided I need to take a roll of "after" pictures--except when is "after"? Does it ever get finished? I don't think so.

Franny's law of remodeling: It costs twice as much, takes twice as long, and is twice as hard as you think it will.

As I review the "before" pictures of this house, I think it a miracle that we survived. I think my memories over the last couple of years have glossed over how bad it really was, and the photographs bring it back in all its horror.

Tomorrow, it's back to teaching school.

This afternoon I planted asparagus, boysenberries, and blueberries. Mulched around trees and fed citrus. My orange tree is making two oranges. I took down some of the "keep Gretel out of the garden" cages since they were ugly and don't keep her out anyhow. I don't know what I'm going to do with that little girl.

Dear Frances– I always await with anticipation for your Christmas letter because it always tells me about remarkable things that you are doing. I admire your spunk and ambition and your spirit of adventure. Keep it up! Fun!! Tell me about the plane. Is it yours? Did you steer it? Bravo! It’s good you’ve got Gretel and Jelly Bean to take care of you. Xochitl too. Your schedule sounds very full and interesting. I counted ten full time jobs you mentioned in your letter besides your travels. Good for you! Keep it up!! It’s all interesting and fun.

Marcelle and I love to travel. Glad you like it too. Your trip to London sounds great and Rachel to show you around. I’ll bet you didn’t miss a thing. GOOD FOR YOU!

You mention that you have lived 50 full and exciting years–tsk! Tsk!! I’ve got you beat–I’m now 86 years old and know there is still much more for me to see and do. But I must admit my broken knee gets tired. So–I’ve got a solution– We can’t travel everyplace but we can do something that will be cherished. WRITE... Write of your life’s experiences, all kinds of travel, studies, fun, people, thoughts... all would be so cherished and handed down to generations. Please do!! They would be so cherished and kept.

Love, Lula (and Marcelle)

I've had the brushes for so long, though, I think they are barred by the statute of limitations.

Axeman was at our church today. He came to show off his new tiny little grandson and rub it in. Grandson looks like a little hobbit.

I was afraid it was going to rain sooner than nightfall, so Gretel and I went for a walk early. There are several neighbors who have huge beds covered with Victorian looking violets. I wonder where they obtained them? I'd like some.

On the other hand, the fudge was smooth, creamy, and flavorful, with probably the nicest texture I've ever seen in fudge.

Would love to bid on some of these for myself, but it seems silly for a sick person to keep up a collection of stuff.

I remember teaching my children to read using the Alice and Jerry books. They have such beautiful illustrations and great stories.

The plan tomorrow is bring Ernestine Boonstoppel to the Elders Quorum Valentine's dinner dance so she gets out on V-day.

I am happy to help her but sheesh. No romance in this life.

"There are no accidents." --Sigmund Freud.

Xochitl spilled all of my pills into a huge scrambled pile on the floor. My pillbox organizer doesn't have a latch anymore. The damage would have been less if the lid hadn't come open. Bleah.

When I went over to the Mercers, Larry was gray and thin and sacked out on the living room floor. I felt bad, and I think cancer should be done away with.

I don't think I've ever worked anywhere where the stated goals matched seamlessly with "What Matters Most." For example, the college where I teach has had weeks of breast-and-bush-beating meetings, emails and hysteria over the pending budget cuts. Everybody knows that the administration has already decided what to do--and by law, they have to give us all the shaft by March 15-- but administration wants to pretend that we the people have some input. In reality, they are playing a huge game with employees as pawns.

No ownership of the vision and mission statement around here.

They do have plexiglass framed mission statements nailed to every wall--as if anyone would steal them. flibithtth

Sung to the tune of 'She'll be coming down the mountain ....'

If you cannot find Osama, bomb Iraq.

If the markers are a drama, bomb Iraq.

If the terrorists are frisky,

Bomb Iraq

If we have no allies with us , bomb Iraq.

If we think someone has ditched us, bomb Iraq.

So hell with the inspections,

Let's look tough for the elections,

Close your mind and take directions,

Bomb Iraq.

It's 'Pre-emptive non-aggression', bomb Iraq.

Let's prevent this mass destruction, bomb Iraq.

They've got weapons, we can't see,

And that's good enough for me,

Cos it's all the proof I need'

Bomb Iraq.

If you never were elected, bomb Iraq.

If your mood is quite dejected, bomb Iraq.

If you think Saddam's gone mad

With the weapons that he had

(And he tried to kill your dad)

Bomb Iraq.

If your corporate fraud is grown, bomb Iraq.

If your ties to it are showin, bomb Iraq.

If your politics are sleazy,

And hiding it ain't easy,

And your manhood's getting uneasy,

Bomb Iraq.

Fall in line and follow orders, bomb Iraq.

For our might knows not our borders, bomb Iraq.

Disagree? We'll call it treason,

Let's make war, not love, this season,

Even if we have no reason,

Bomb Iraq.

I love mantids. They have such cute little faces and big alien looking compound eyes. They can change their coloration. In addition, they appear to be intelligent. When I was a little girl, my father always had me come see when he found one while working in the garden.

be, bewas, bewere, buying, bean.

Sometimes I wonder why I bother.

To: Faculty and Staff From: Linda Quinones-Vaughan

An incident involving the identification of an unknown substance in BC's administration building this morning revealed that the powdery substance found in the women's restroom was toilet paper residue. BC personnel activated the college's emergency response plan and worked hand in hand with emergency management personnel from Bakersfield Fire Department and Kern County Environmental Health. The Bakersfield Fire Department Hazmat team investigated the incident reported originally by a student worker who said that powder fell from a toilet paper dispenser. Testing confirmed there was never any danger to personnel or students.

The safety and well being of students, employees and guests of Bakersfield College is our primary concern. This incident serves as a timely reminder to contact BC's Public Safety Office immediately whenever you have a concern for safety. The Public Safety Office can be reached at extension 4554 (office) and 4555 (emergency).

We extend our thanks to the Bakersfield Fire Department and Kern County Environmental Health professionals who partnered with us to resolve this incident.

I pulled weeds on Saturday and filled my green waste bin. Still so much more to do!

Today they replaced me as Ward Activities Chairperson. I still have to be on the committee but I don't have to be in charge. Hooray!

I also went to visit Larry Mercer in Intensive Care. He's not looking so good. He didn't respond much to anything I said or did, except a few times, with great effort, he moved his eyes. I spoke to the case manager the hospital brought on board for him and explained the family situation and what we at church can do for him.

I bought yards of blue ribbon to make Win Without War pin ons, and I gave away almost all I made. Midge Ladd asked if I thought we'd be "allowed" to wear a political statement. I pointed out that our employer doesn't know we exist, and if they don't like our politics, tough. We don't like theirs either.

I think Rachel might be on the front page of the newspaper, protesting the war at UCLA. She's kind of small in the back of the picture.

Like a line from "Pale Horse, Pale Rider" (on the which I did my thesis): "She had a burning slow headache, and noticed it now, remembering she had waked up with it and it had in fact begun the evening before. While she dressed she tried to trace the insidious career of her headache, and it seemed reasonable to suppose it had started with the war."

Marlene and I listened to some of Bush's speech and then went to Jacalito's for dinner. I feel so helpless, trying to make a statement by pinning on a ribbon. As if.

The newspaper reports that terrorist cells may attack allied troops when they invade Iraq. This prospect comes as a big surprise to whom? Come again?

I have daffodils and freesias, and the pussy willow is having kittens; spring has sprung. This fact is supposed to be reassuring.

The television was showing a M.A.S.H. marathon, with the sound turned off. It was a very strange experience to be in a hospital, in the middle of medical procedures, looking through the small window of television into another hospital setting, watching other medical procedures happening.

I watched my friend Sheila, still running on the credits trailer after all these years. I wish I knew where Sheila is now, and hope she is doing okay.

I was going to plant some spring bulbs today but it's pouring.

I went to a birthday party for Cindy Hubble. (took her spring bulbs for a present.) During the party I had a nice conversation with her brother Brock. He's a fun and interesting person to be around.

Cindy has her new house done in animal/jungle motif, much as I imagine Anne wants to do hers. Brock did the wall murals of the palm trees and vines.

I was going to go to Jastro Park to protest tonight, but it's raining and dark and cold.

I also bought corned beef and cabbage to cook when my kids come home this weekend.

It kind of makes me sad because it's my diamond ring, which she inherited. Nostalgia I guess. I do, however, believe it's very wise of the kids to not buy a new ring since he has another year of school. He's going to be an accountant when he grows up-- he fits right in with all the pocket protector type men in our family.

My nerves were on edge because of the darkness of the earth, which I had not noticed muffling itself up, and the nakedness of the firmament, the disrobing of which I had not noticed either. Overhead, between the formless trees bordering my dissolving path, the night sky was pale with stars. In those years, that marvelous mess of constellations, nebulae, interstellar- gaps and all the rest of the awesome show provoked in me an indescribable sense of nausea, of utter panic, as if I were hanging from the earth upside down on the brink of infinite space, with terrestrial gravity still holding me by the heels but about to release me any moment. Except for two corner windows in the upper story (my mother''s sitting room) the house was already dark. . . . My mother reclined on the sofa with the St. Petersburg Rech in her hands and an unopened London Times in her lap. A white telephone gleamed on the glass-topped table near her. . . . An armchair stood by the sofa, but I always avoided it because o f its golden satin, the mere sight of which caused a laciniate shiver to branch from my spine like nocturnal lightning (226).

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It's the fault of the State of California. The tax man says the State of California deserves the reputation that the IRS has.

My sewing area is now set up, and I mended the duvet and applied the suspender clips. I also got out some sewing to get started on. One thing I really really need to finish is Aunt Jeuney's birthday quilt.

Saw the place on Temple Street where we left the *&&^%##%^&* Pontiac the day we took the bus home and never saw it again.

We visited Michael Levine and scouted out fabrics for the wedding. I bought the horsehair braid for the hem of Susie's dress. We are voting for the silk duiponi for the bridesmaids.

Yesterday in downtown Los Angeles we saw a La Rosa man (*not genuine "La Rosa" brand *your results may vary) giving a popsicle to a homeless man. The poignancy of the scene was increased by our knowledge (assumption, inference) that the paletero is, himself, probably two centavos away from being a homeless man.

That isn't the worst of it, folks. The reason we become so disconcerted is we spend all day Sunday looking at the clock and saying I can't believe it's this late! Every time we chance upon a clock, we [psychologically] lose the hour all over again, so by the time Sunday is over we are scarred. Then we wake up late Monday morning and go through Monday in the same way, losing hour after hour. Never mind the fact that the whole time package is a convention of convenience.

I'm wondering how big a chance of rain is "a chance of showers."

It's blooming now, so the elephant's head and back are frosted with foamy white flowers.

They shoulda taken cockroaches and mosquitos on board.

I don't know what I'm going to do about that.

I betcha Big Louie would eat the snails.

I was ready to spit nails on mothers day. In my sister's ward, a sweet little Patty Perfect talked. One of her quotes was to the effect that "It is the highest calling in the universe to mold another human being." Many of her other quotes were of that ilk. Things like "I will never let my children go astray." ( Does she know Satan thinks that way too?) BTW she had a 5 year old and a 2 year old, and they made the 5 year old give a "talk". That means Dad held the girl up to the mike and the mom whispered in her ear things like "I really love my mommy" which the kid then repeated practically inaudibly. Meanwhile, the two year old was dismanteling the chapel. I sat there snarling and thinking people can't really call themselves a mother at least until they've dealt with snotty preteens.

Also, they sang Love at Home for the opening song, but we were late (due to said sister's above referenced snotty preteens), so we got to miss out on that one.

This site explains the science and debunks the rumors. http://www.planet-x.150m.com/index.html

I'm kind of disappointed. I wanted to believe in Planet X.

I think that if that is the case, the snail shells will be covered with a thick layer of nuclear ash, making it easy for geologists to determine the year of the 2004 atomic "event."

I went to Home Depot, where I participated in the new system where you "save time" by scanning your purchases. It took approximately 400% longer than having it done by a ten-fingered clerk. I had seen the article about Home Depot's new system in this morning's paper, and I figured, naaaahhh, this will never come to Bakersfield.

I also went to Vons and stocked up on groceries. There was terrible, awful, miserable road construction on Stockdale Highway and the intersection with Rio Bravo was actually blocked off. I'll have to remember that when I go to the baby shower tomorrow night.

Finally, I decided it would be faster to just draft legal documents and type them myself rather than mess with it. Back to old times! So I did a new will, a new advance directive, and a quitclaim deed.

I went to Office Depot to make copies and the copy machine ate the last page of my Advance Directive and also didn't collate and staple, even though I set the controls to do both. Finally I had to just leave the machine jammed (I cleaned out everywhere, but it still wouldn't turn back on) and use a different machine. Without a staple/collate option. So I still have that to do.

Then at the County Recorder (where I missed today's 2:00 cutoff) they gave me the third degree, a lot of tax paperwork to fill out, and complained about the notary seal being smeared. I have to do a bunch of this stuff over, and they aren't open Monday because it's a holiday. So there goes Tuesday.

Eventually, I shall triumph! I have to keep reminding myself that lawyers are $300 an hour, so I am worth that too. Would I pay $3,000 to get all this running around done for me? Not bloody likely.

I finished it today despite an inordinate waste of time doing hurryupandwait at the hospital, getting lab work and EKG scans and being told to not eat anything after midnight.

Next I will cut into the wedding gown. There are two scary things about it (besides the price of the yardage). a) I have to seriously alter the bodice, and b) it has a waistline that drops down into a V in front and back. Waistlines like this are hard to make nicely.

This is going to look soooooooo glamorous with my tablecloth mother of the bride dress!

Marlene is here staying with me to make sure I behave. It's a strange situation because usually she's my partner in crime; she's havng to be the mom around here! Everyone in the ward and from work is being so good to me. The RS Pres. offered to have meals sent in, but I passed on them. Don't need any Mormon Mystery Meals.

The hospital's dietician came to see me and brought recipes for cooking with Ensure. Oh yummy. Tuna Noodle Casserole made with vanilla Ensure.

Hillary decided I was not going to teach the summer school class. This is sort of a relief, but I don't know what I'm going to do about money. It's a big problem. I have no idea what the co pay on this TPN is going to be but I imagine it is horrendous.

After Dr. Amin, Marlene and I went to Rosemary's. Brian Leary was there working. I had a petite bananna split and ate almost the whole thing. Tonight we might go to a movie.

I'm reading the first Xanth novel by Piers Anthony. Don't know what all the excitement is about. I find it offends the reader's intelligence by defining within the text all the standard magical words: manticore, pentagram, etc. I guess that's okay for a 7th grade level book. Bleah. Give me Phillip Pullman any day, even for kid books.

Tonight, out to dinner for Hillary's birthday. In attendance were David and Erik, Marlene, Debbie, Jean and Susan. Oh yes of course, me and Hillary. We went to Sorello's; I had the shrimp scampi. I really ate a lot of it. The service was waaaaayyyyy slow. Everyone had fun looking at my tube.

After Beverlys I drove through Carls Jr. and got Gretel a happy meal and me a famous star. During all this my IV bag ran out, so I had to change it and am now ready for a little nap, but logged on to complete the Carls Jr. survey and get $2 off my next visit.

The yard is a huge disaster. Full of weeds.

Rachel read Harry Potter in 11 hours and she challenged me to beat her record. I'm sure I can, but I don't feel a great urgent need to read the book myself. I have other things going on in my life.

Right now I'm reading Seabiscuit. It's a fascinating glimpse into a world I have never seen.

Daydreaming. I have always claimed that I am never bored. If something unentertaining is going on, I can always think about something else. I was imagining that I was explaining to someone, "I am never bored. I can always think about the Mohorovicic Discontinuity." Immediately, a switch flipped in my mind and I found that I WAS contemplating (very seriously) the Mohorovicic Discontinuity.

It was a nice concert, full of bouncy band music, and closed with Souza's "Washington Post."

Twenty-four years ago today I became the mother of a baby boy, who is still the joy of my life.

Have spent the last few days on intensive scrapbooking and have mine and Leonard's caught up for the last two years, except for titles and such.

Another quotation, from the redoubtable Aunt Jeuney: "If you don't have time to do it properly now, when are you going to have time to do it over."

Rachel and I went to Pioneer Day. We took Mark and Chris and Robert. All of us got really full of yummy food and we took lots of pictures of us stuffing ourselves for a scrapbook page.

The answer is "No, of course not." The prophets today have asked us NOT to gather to Zion, but to stay and build up Zion in the places where we are. Yet people are falling all over each other to move to Utah despite the explicit message they should stay in California or Texas or where ever.

I am in quite a bit of pain, but the Tylenol III the surgeon prescribed makes me throw up, which makes the pain worse. Don't make me laugh.

"I want to get her spaded..... or neutered, whichever one the doctor thinks is best."

The bride and I got up early and made it to the temple in plenty of time. My IV messed up while I was driving down, and I couldn't stop to fix it (being on the freeway), so I was kind of weak by the time we got to the temple. I made them let my sister into the bride's room to help me. Anne actually did most of the buttoning and advice-giving and I was glad for the break. The ceremony was lovely. It was performed by Lynn Poulson, a man I used to work for, who has known Susie since before she was born. The bride seemed very happy and not scared at all and the groom just shone.

They had five little boys in tuxes and two little girls in floofy dresses, children of the groom's siblings, waiting outside. This sent the Cute-o-Meter off the charts. After pictures, which took forever and a day, we had a big family lunch at Olive Garden, which included all the people who couldn't go to the temple. By that time, of course, the little children were a wreck, but I didn't worry about them because they weren't mine. It was reassuring enough for me to know that yes, they DO make pretty babies in that family.

We came home and collapsed. The reception was the next day--I didn't have anything to do for it as the ladies from the ward handled it wonderfully. We've been having a lot of thunderstorms and were in danger of getting rained out, but we only got sprinked a little, and the clouds took the edge off the heat. The groom's family did not manage to keep the little kids in their tuxes throughout--not only was it hot, but the kids discovered Grandma's Amusement Park, which occupies the rear 40 of the yard where the reception was. If they'd been allowed to jump in the pool in addition to the trampoline, their evening would have been perfect.

I made a tri-tip and bought Costco pizza and used paper plates and so on at home, so feeding the troops was not difficult. My house is still upside down, but we'll get there.

There are lots of M&Ms left from the reception. Want any?

"Who's there?"

A West High School football player. Do I want to participate in a fundraiser to support his team? I do not. What are you doing in a BHS neighborhood, kid?

Now I am going to have to call up Joey Nations and donate to the BHS team to make up for turning that other kid down.

Saturday morning we went to visit the North American Museum of Ancient Life at Thanksgiving Point. I really like this museum and this was my third visit, but I wanted Leonard to see it. I shot a roll of film of my kids there, the highlight of which was the picture of my son-in-law with the mural of the creation of the universe. We were very careful to note all the trilobite fossils because they figured into our plans later. After the museum we went to lunch at HickoryKist in Provo and then took naps--at least I did.

Late afternoon saw us traveling to Midvale for the reception. It was a busy afternoon getting all ready for the evening. I was worried that it was going to rain, but it didn't. The reception got interesting before it even started because the Delaneys showed up. They are people from our former ward who now live in Idaho; I was in the YW presidency with Cheryl and taught the girls in Primary. Susanna told an interesting story about her one and only experience toiletpapering--the Delaney's house. Brother Delaney came out and caught them and yelled at them and the girls all went home scared and crying. They didn't know he was only giving them a hard time.

The reception officially started and the people were lined up clear down the block. I never met so many neighbors, and such friendly people. It was a real ordeal standing there in that line, however. I worried about John's father's strength. I think it's better to just greet the guests individually, but was told that a line is the way they do it in Utah. Well. I think I'm safe from any more Utah receptions, so that's okay. I would have liked to have more time for a longer visit with Sheila from the Mollybluestocking list.

A highlight of the line was when Bob Denkers, an old friend from college, came through with one of his daughters. We also had a good number of relatives--not all we would have liked because being August they were on vacation, but quite a few.

The next day, Sunday, we went to church at the BYU married student ward. The young couples actually gave some of the best church talks I've heard in years. After church we went to a family dinner at my brother Jonathan's. All my sister's married children were there and we had a lovely visit. This is the last time in a while to see Dave and Alyson, as they are moving to Kansas to grad school. Aly said she would send me some ruby Birkenstocks that I could click and come see her.

In the morning we got up very early, Susanna and John went off to work, and we hit the highway. We travelled to Delta by way of the Tintic Mining District, where my great grandfather got his start (and his finish) as a miner. We took pictures of some of the most admirable timbering I've ever seen, still sturdy and solid after over a century.

In Delta, we checked into the Best Western and then went larking off down a nowhere road to try to find the trilobite fossils. The map we had printed off from the internet looked a lot more thorough to a person sitting at home in California than it was trying to navigate the desert with its hundreds of nameless and mismatched road. Eventually we made our way from the two-lane highway to the Road of Doom and from there to the quarry. It's funny that I've been driving around in a 4WD vehicle for two years now and this is the first chance I've had to use it.

It was darn hot. We got to the quarry and spent the afternoon breaking rocks with a hammer. It got hotter. We found many, many trilobites and this was extremely exciting, but boy was it hot. We had read also that there is a geocache in the area,and we looked for it, but not having a GPS we didn't find it. Eventually, we loaded up all the rocks we could carry and returned to Delta via The Road of Doom. We ate dinner at a place called The China Inn in Delta--to be highly recommended, and run by real Chinese people.

In the morning, we visisted the Deseret Industries store, where we bought a book called "How to Write a Story and Other Essays" by Mark Twain for $.50. Then we went cross country--not on a Road of Doom, but rather a Road of Inconvenient Travel--to I-70, which we took to US 89. I was kicking myself that I didn't bring the blueprint of the house my grandfather designed and built in Panguitch so we could find it. We paid a visit to Big Rock Candy Mountain and then continued south to Glendale, where we paid a visit to old friends, Kingsley and Mimi Nelson. Dinner and catching up.

We got up well before dawn and headed home. I drove through Zion Canyon in the dark--an absolutely magnificient experience with the full moon shining of the rock faces and Mars closer than it has been for 50,000 years. Especially surreal were the views of the formations in the half-light, framed by the window cutouts of the big tunnel. These tunnels and highway are sentimental to our family because my grandfather built them.

Out of the canyon, we found they are widening the highway and widening and reparing the Hurricane Bridge, but they have had the good grace to have preserved Grandpa's supporting towers. I don't know about the original railing--last time I was through there, maybe three years ago--the concrete wasn't in such good shape, so it was good to see the bridge getting some attention.

Through St. George, Las Vegas, home without stopping, except for breakfast at the Denny's in Mojave.

Susanna was so sure she was unbeatable. I'll never forget the day she jumped into the dunebuggy and drove straight into the grape vinyard. It was really nerve wracking teaching her; Nancy Shile helped and let her drive in a little red Ghia. Greater love hath no man. Then Ruth Davis taught Rachel.

What wonderful friends. I don't know if I could do it for anyone else.

LeJeune Whitney was born July 25, 1921 in Springville, Utah, the third child and only daughter of Lewis Jotham Whitney and Frances Evaline Henderson Whitney. She grew up surrounded by friends and cousins in Springville in the old family home on Main Street, and she graduated from Springville High School.

After a brief stint at Brigham Young University, she proudly served our nation during World War Two as an officer in the Army Air Corps, where she rose through the ranks and broke traditional barriers, contributing to the expansion of the women’s movement. After the end of the war, she married Carl Thornton Griffith, and the new couple made their home in Oregon, where she graduated from the University of Oregon with a degree in journalism.

LeJeune and Carl became the parents of one child, Carl Whitney Griffith. Although they were divorced in 1968, LeJeune and Carl remained friends through LeJeune’s brief marriage to Marton Ackerman and Carl’s remarriage. They raised their child together and in later years once again maintained a household together, where they cared for each other until Carl’s death in 2000.

LeJeune had a heart filled with kindness and a brain bursting with ideas. Her interests and professional involvements were almost too many to list; she could and did do anything and everything. She edited the National Chinchilla Breeder magazine, she worked for the Salt Lake Tribune, she wrote and published her own books, she established a craft supply import firm and a graphics shop, and she spent many years on the corporate staff of Hewlett-Packard corporation. At an age when many of her contemporaries were quietly retiring, she embraced the computer age. LeJeune excelled at everything she did, and was always anxious and willing to share, help, and counsel with others to lead them to excellence also.

Her many nieces and nephews and the children of her friends will always remember LeJeune as a guide, an inspiration, and a second mother. She cared about every one and strove to help each person’s creativity and interests develop and bloom. LeJeune had friends all over the world, from all walks of life, and of all ages, from older people to her contemporaries to little children.

LeJeune is survived by her son, Carl Whitney Griffith, his wife, Suzi Griffith, and her beloved granddaughter, Sarah Maurie Griffith. She leaves two brothers, Joe and Bill Whitney, and Joe’s wife, Carla Whitney, as well as numerous nephews and nieces and many, many friends and relatives. She was predeceased by her parents, her brothers Lewis Earl and J. Cecil Whitney, her sister-in-law Lorna Whitney, and her stepmother Jesse Alleman Whitney.

Rachel and I are getting ready to leave for Utah to attend Aunt Jeuney's funeral. I am on the program; I have to read from Tennyson's "Ulysses." She requested I do this poem at her funeral but I always thought she would be doing it at mine instead.

I recited from Tennyson's "Ulysses" for the service. I was worried about what kind of job I'd be able to do, but everyone says the poem was a high point of the program. There were a lot more people there than I thought would be there. They ran the obituary I wrote for her in the Springville Herald, and I guess a lot of the locals saw it and came out.

Other speakers were my brother Jonathan, two men who went to high school with Aunt Jeuney, and my uncle's bishop. My sister in law Sharon sang a lovely sentimental old song (NOT a funeral number, a twenties "pop" song) and my brother Robert gave one of the prayers. The other prayer was by my cousin Ryan. We sang "Do What is Right" for an opening song and "God Be With You Till We Meet Again" for a closing. Singing that closing hymn with so much scattered family was really an emotional experience.

My brother Leonard missed his flight and didn't make the funeral--a real downer for all of us-- so my son Leonard was a pallbearer in his place.

Military honors were done by the local VFW post, and seeing those old veterans still standing (just barely) just about finished me off. I don't know what they are going to do for parades and the funerals of soldiers when the last of these old boys is gone. They seem to get more frail every year. My youngest niece picked up all the shells from the twenty-one gun salute, so we divided them up among those who wanted one as a souvenier of our aunt.

We buried her next to DH. I think he would be pleased to have her there because he was extremely fond of Aunt Jeuney.

My cousin Whit (her only child) is taking this loss really, really hard. As are we all. My sister and I have made a date to return in a year to do her temple work together.

Upon my return home, I had an email from a member of her camera club, who said the club is having a memorial next week and could he have permission to read the obituary there. I told him of course, and I'm flattered and grateful that she had so many wonderful friends.

I am going through them and putting each letter in a page protector in a big binder. It is actually going to turn out to be more like two binders. Of course I have to read each one. I'm about 2/3 finished and so far I haven't happened on anything I would consider "too personal". Of course I'm much more open than many people. It just makes me wonder if I have anything "too personal" in my written journals or saved correspondence. We should all go through our stuff before we die.

One ongoing point of discussion in these letters is their diets, weight, and measurements. Those two women must have tried every odd diet under the sun! As well as the conventional ones. I don't remember any of these diets happening although I do remember the exercise program and the calendar my mother had in the kitchen where she gave herself a star for every day she stuck with her diet and exercise.

In 1961, they went on something called the Knox Program. Apparently they sent away for a leaflet from Knox Unflavored Gelatin, and went on a diet of molded stuff. Mousses, aspics, gelatin salads. Lots of chopped celery and carrot molded up. Tuna. Cottage cheese and fruit. All kinds of recipes, with the mousses of course featuring nonfat milk and nary a dollop of whipped cream. My mother apparently got a set of copper molds with Green Stamps. (I remember the molds; they hung on the wall of every kitchen we ever lived in.)

I think these diet dishes may have been temporarily filling, but I can't imagine that a meal of this stuff would be satisfying. You'd be hungry again in a half hour!

Aunt Jeuney and Mom were up against a wall on this--they both loved to cook so much. My mother especially was a great baker, and you know how tempting those freshly out of the oven rolls can be! Experimenting with Knox gelatin had to be a poor substitute for cooking real food. The experience left its mark at least on Aunt Jeuney. Once when I was a teen she invited us over for a "cold summer supper" and everything she served was covered in slime with the exception of the three-bean salad, which I like, but which most of my siblings abhor.

At any rate, this is my second day of sitting at the kitchen table reading and organizing old letters.

Teaching Math in 1950: A logger sells a truckload of lumber for $100. His cost of Production is 4/5 of the price. What is his profit?

Teaching Math in 1960: A logger sells a truckload of lumber for $100. His cost of production Is 4/5 of the price, or $80. What is his profit?

Teaching Math in 1970: A logger exchanges a set "L" of lumber for a set "M" of money. The cardinality of set "M" is 100. Each element is worth one dollar. Make 100 dots representing the elements of the set "M." The set "C", the cost of production, contains 20 fewer points than set "M." Represent the set â?oC" as a subset of set "M" Answer this question: What is the cardinality of the set "P" of profits?

Teaching Math in 1980: A logger sells a truckload of lumber for $100. His cost of production Is $80 and his profit is $20. Your assignment: Underline the number 20.

Teaching Math in 1990: By cutting down beautiful forest trees, the logger makes $20. What do you think of this way of making a living? Topic for class participation after answering the question: How did the forest birds and squirrels feel as the logger cut down the trees? There are no wrong answers.

Teaching Math in 2000: A logger sells a truckload of lumber for $100. His cost of production Is $120. How does Arthur Andersen determine that his profit margin is $60?

Teaching Math in 2010: El hachero vende un camion carga por $100. La cuesta de production es.............?

I have to say I laughed out loud when I read it. I think it's very funny. On the other hand, I wonder if the joke might be racist? I haven't clarified my mental position on whether or not it is, but it does play to the paranoia of those who dread being overtaken by the Hispanic population.

I think the real way math teaching will go in the future is to become more algebraic. Story problems bomb with today's kids because they can't read and their critical thinking skills are nil.

For two years I taught math (in Spanish) to immigrant kids in a bilingual classroom. They were doing okay, considering the mathematical idiot they had for a teacher. Then the people of the state passed Proposition 187 and bilingual programs were eliminiated. These immigrant kids did not survive in regular math classrooms. Of course, part of the problem was they weren't on grade level to begin with. Many of them had dropped out of school after third grade, as they are allowed to do under Mexican law. I had some kids who couldn't even count buttons into a muffin tin, and they were 12, 13 years old already! Right. So let's have them do it in English too!

My take on the mess is that we can't possibly get the same results from a bubble test score. For this academic year, however, it's going to just have to stay a mess.

My very big concern is the students who place on the very low end of the spectrum, those with learning disabilities that we discover as we are reading their effort at an essay. We have always referred them for further testing. Now, the office where they are tested has been gutted by layoffs and other piracy by the administration. Today I had lunch with a bunch of the classified people from that office, and they are overwhelmed trying to keep the program afloat. And guess what? More cuts coming down.

I don't see how a person could pre-diagnose a learning disability from a low bubble test score, so what that means is these students won't have a writing sample read by an English teacher until they are enrolled in the class, and then they have lost at least a semester, probably two--a whole year!-- before they are identified.

Tomorrow I am going to start ripping out the vegetable garden, and I'm going to make quarts and quarts of fresh pesto. I had the idea to freeze it in ice cube trays, and then I'll have individual "cubes" which will make just one serving of pasta--for me!!! If others are expected for dinner, I can thaw more cubes.

I mended a lot of the drip system, so maybe I'll turn it back on tomorrow.

"Not the whole thing," I admitted.

"But the beginning is famous," he insisted.

"No, it's the end that is famous," I corrected him. "Beauty is truth, truth is beauty. That is all you know on earth and all you need to know." That made him happy and I went on to the next window to get my Big Mac and my Happy Meal for Gretel.

1987 was a very big year for us. We went on trips to Seattle and to Colorado. I have a stack of 1987 Death Valley pictures an inch thick. Also, we have a lot of local pictures, such as the zoo, and that is the year we moved from Los Angeles.

Once I asked him for some recipes. "Uncle David," I said, "you're getting older and I'd hate to have your candy recipes lost to the family. I promise cross my heart not to go into a competing business if you write them down for me."

"Flibbiththth!" said he. "There are no secret recipes. I just use high quality ingredients and don't ruin them."

Rachel came home to visit for the weekend. Gretel was estatic to see her.

They had the debates on a tiny little portable television in the Family History Center on Wednesday night. I can't say I listened very closely; I certainly wasn't huddled around the screen with the family history director, but I came to the conclusion that I can't listen to Huffington for several more years. She certainly writes better than she speaks--or does she do her own writing? I'm suspicious now.

The only one who I thought acquitted himself well was Peter Camejo, the Green Party Candidate. I suppose I'll have to become a Socialist and support him.

I spent the day today serging chemotherapy turbans at the stake RS service project. I ruined the first one and sneaked it into the trash, but soon got the hang of it and went zipping along. I can't say that it made me feel better about the existence of cancer, but at least I contributed. I can't do anything about cancer, but I can do this.

Juan is going to seed the yard with winter ryegrass on October 15, so I need to have the vegetable garden all pulled out by then. However, the Amundsens are going to come over Saturday morning and help me. Bless their hearts.

I have to get the Langleys to come for the rosebush and the Welches to come for the wisteria. (All my landscaping mistakes!) I decided where I would move the strawberries.

Gretel really wanted some, but I wasn't sharing.

I've been a little sick. I think I caught something from a student. Yesterday I went to bed and read a trashy grocery store novel, "Mt. Vernon Love Story" by Mary Higgens Clark. It was charming but mediocre. I just grabbed it off the rack at the store and was shocked when it rang up as costing $6.99. Whaaaa? That's a lot of money for a trashy paperback.

They also had guinea pigs, which went weeeek at me, and brand new baby hamsters. And red slider turtles.

I almost broke down and bought myself a turtle for the pond, but then I read on the sign that they eat goldfish.

I moved the blueberries, and will move the strawberries, to the side of the house by the street. If neighborhood children eat some, oh well.

The household waste dumpster is filled with black weedblock fabric which I took up from in front. It's time to plant ground cover around the stepping stones.

They were in a little soapdish on my bathroom counter. I don't know how it got out or where it went. *I* didn't spill it!

I think the scrapbook store will take this stuff back. I hope.

I had them get the pond filter out of the water and it STINKS! The pond really needs cleaning. I'll have to go back to CLS and see if I can buy some filter foam. An alternative is perhaps cut up furnace filters to use--would certainly be cheap. Why not?

Now, I have always heard that Joseph Smith "copied" the temple ceremonies from Masonic rites. I can live with that because I think that symbolism really is archetypical and has widespread meaning. It's very possible that Masonry is a corrupted remnant of an ancient temple ceremony. As we believe, Joseph Smith restored the teachings of the gospel; he didn't make them up.

Here's the problem I am contemplating. The temple symbolisms are archetypical and "universal"--but only to our culture. What happens when folks of another culture attend the temple? They haven't been steeped in the same symbolic values we have. Orientals, for example, don't feel the same way we do about squares, directness, exactness. On a psychological level, an Oriental is not going to have the same experience as an American or a Western European. The learning will not happen in the same way. Then what? This is a problem a worldwide church will need to address.

Gretel went with me to Home Depot to buy the sprinkler parts. She was a little scared of all the people and traffic.

It's done in lovely shades of green and burgundy. Some of the squares have poems on them. Very very nice.

Also while the Cornetts were here, Larry dug up the "Falstaff" rosebush. The back yard is ready for Juan to work his magic tomorrow. After the Cornetts went home, Gretel and I took the rosebush to Jill Langley. Jill was taking her bath (something she does every evening), but Tim answered the door.

They had this huge Chinese family with a traditional grandmother and everything. Leonard was invited once to their home for Chinese New Year.

After graduation, Patricia went to Stanford, where I saw her in a student production of Dvorak's "Rusalka" our junior year. That was the last time I saw her because she never came to class reunions or to the big party I had at Christmas in 1975.

I'm sure that wherever the Ho sisters are, they are successful, and I hope their lives are full and happy.

Gretel is scratching scratching scratching. It was so bad last night I had to put her outside because she was keeping me awake. I've made an appointment for her at the vet. I don't think it's fleas because she takes her Program and I can't find anything on her skin. Watching her scratch makes me itch too.

I didn't mention to him about planting daffodils. Trust only goes so far, and it stops when it comes to flowerbeds I think.

In other news, Wendell Settlemire has fixed the two gimpy hinges on closet doors!

I might be tempted to shop Green Frog more often if it were in my neighborhood. As it is, I'll just plan to keep going back as long as I need to to show solidarity for my brothers and sisters on the picket lines.

All kinds of people were shopping there, most of whom had never been into Young's, I am sure. One old lady gave me a real lecture about never cross a picket line. "I wouldn't dream of it," I assured her.

Leonard and Sumana are here and we are having a nice visit. Today we went to two pet stores and an antique store, and tonight we are going to see Richard III at the college. The homemade lentil soup was a hit. I froze a lot of portions for the future.

In other news, my employer can bite the wall. If I were Some People, I would have been downtown with the lawyers today, faster than the administration could spit.

I'm glad I'm just a simple flunkie who is teaching college for a hobby and not for a living. I'd hate to have my life depending on these people. Such jerks.

I hate it when people use "dialogue" as a verb like that.

Here are some other words I hate: foundational, collegiality, outcomes.

I went to the Family History Library tonight. We are getting quite a little club going there. I found one line that added 2,000 names.

Work work work on the grammar handbook. What a headache.

"Walking purposefully, eating a bananna - smart." "Wandering down the sidewalk, eating a Twinkie - dumb."

"OK," I said. "Tell me if the Vice President coming out of the Humanities Building is smart or dumb."

"That old guy? He's dumb! Lookit him rambling around holding his McDonald's cup and he still has to write stuff in a notebook after doing a job how many years? He doesn't even have a briefcase! He's the friggin' Vice President and he doesn't even carry a briefcase? What kind of Vice President is that? Dumb. Dumb. Dumb."

Then one of the girls chimed in with a comment about the combover.

Cracked me up.

I would like to be friends with her, but long experience tells that one simply cannot be friends with a Witness. Behind every conversation, they are always lying in wait for the chance to bring the topic around to religion. When Leonard was in kindergarten, there was a little Witness girl in his class. She was a cute little girl--practically the only one in the class besides Leonard who spoke English. Her parents were very nice, she had a baby brother Rachel's age, and they lived just right over on Third Avenue. I thought they would be good friends for our family, but every meetandgreet kept turning into an evaluation of what I'm missing by not going to their church. The can of worms was opened when I invited the little girl to Leonard's fifth birthday party the week after school started.

Anyhow, that same old lady returned to my house and knocked on the door to "bring me more news of what is going on in the world today." (Like I don't read Newsweek and the paper?) I was really sad to not let her in, because she is a lovely lady with whom I have some things in common. But boy, catch her listening to me share my views? uhuh.

Today Sherrie Lewis and I visted Jill Langley and Ernestine Boonstoppel. I asked to see the photographs of Jill's surgery. Everyone else thinks they are gross, but I was interested. The tumor looked sort of like a beef kidney. It was the size of a Nerf football and weighed four pounds. Thank heaven thank heaven thank heaven it was benign.

Judd Lewis and his fiancee are not registered anywhere, and I'm too tired to think of a gift on my own, so I'll probably just give them a gift card. I think I'll give Megan a recipe box, however.

Hooray for having the workbooks done! Now I guess I'll go back to scrapbooking. Oh yes and plant the rest of the daffodils.

I asked Pedro to watch out the window to see me walk and tell me if I'm dumb or smart. I looked back up to see him and he was standing with two thumbs up. I guess that means I'm smart.

Maybe smart, but with a two-inch stack of papers to grade over the weekend. I have lunch with Sunnie and Susan to look forward to tomorrow though.

And Super Saturday at the church on Saturday, where I am going to make a layered jar of soup mix and some stamped Christmas cards. I signed up to take homemade soup for the luncheon. I was going to make matzoh ball soup, but I couldn't find any matzoh stuff. I went to all the independent grocery stores yesterday, and not only did they not have it, they didn't know what it was and thought I was insane to even ask. I know they sell it at Vons and Albertsons, but they are still on strike. Today I went to Foods Co., and they didn't have it either, so I am giving up. I'll just make homemade dumplings from scratch.

The broth is smelling really nice right now. I put in a lot of fresh thyme from the front yard. (I did rinse the mud off it first!)

I do have some friends who are Republicans, and I have miffed them already. Geez, the first miffs of the 2004 Presidential race!

Funny, when I was young I thought Homemaking Meeting was just for old ladies. Ernestine thinks I am young. Hah.

That said, really, all the cutsie crafts and cooking classes really were more useful for the newlyweds. I think it would be a very hard thing to have an Enrichment calling and keep trying to think of ideas to keep such a spread of ladies busy, and in truth, Ernestine was only one of a couple of senior citizens there. (The others were there with their daughters.)

I watched the cooking demonstration, which was about "cheating." They used prefrozen bread dough to make rolls, breadsticks, and monkey bread. I don't know if I could ever bring myself to do that. I made one jar of layered soup mix, which I gave to Ernestine, and then I just worked on my scrapbook. I had a big audience, so I think I wasn't the only one who didn't need more crafty holiday decorations.

Then we had lunch, an event at which I shine. Thank heaven lunch isn't just for newlyweds!

The pictures I took of apple bobbing at the church fall social are so precious I'm going to have to make a scrapbook page of them even though they are not my kids! Well, they are sort of my kids. Drew Smith, Caryn Ledbetter...

The Hors D'Ouevres divider in my box is empty. I don't think I even noticed it was there before.

At some point this week, I also need to go to Target.

As if. She never had a lemon pie last more than a day in her life.

I have found numerous mistakes from the Ancestral File.

This Monday/Wednesday class is really taking the starch out of me. It's been a hard semester. I hope it gets over with soon.

Besides, as Sumana says, how can anyone object to a market called Green Frog?

Froggy went a'courting and he did ride uh huh.

The rest of the day I did genealogy. Sharon White agrees with me that I should just delete the no-name people. What's the point of having them on your chart if they are just going to be a blank? I really need to get back into scrapbook mode, but there is so much to do on this genealogy. I had been spending every Wednesday night at the library, but now I have about a year worth of checking before I can do that again, and I miss it!

Gretel was very concerned about the way the tow truck driver was messing with the car. She is very protective of the car, and she didn't like to see a stranger opening it up and doing strange things to it.

After I dropped him at home I went to the teacher lab and laminated my recipe cards. It will take a couple of hours to cut them out; this will give me something to do on the way to San Francisco.

Tonks is a very lucky kitty. He had a chunk taken out of his eye, but just the eyelid, not the eyeball. It could have been a lot worse. He had a big antibiotic shot and a pain shot. He's running a little temperature. He will have eye ointment twice a day and an amoxycilllin pill twice a day. That ought to go over big.

Afterward I took Rachel to lunch at Earth, Wind, and Flour and we talked about politics and world affairs. She took home a lot of leftover food.

There is a frost advisory out for tonight. Goodbye, brugmansia (for the rest of the year.) The Sunset book says, "Expect unattractive winter appearance." Their evaluation is correct, Captain. The radio meteorologist said it is going to be fifteen degrees in Frazier Park. I believe it. I had to stand out in it at the rest area, throwing up into a trash can and I think I will never be warm again. I have my nightgown in the dryer, however.

When I was a kid and we were sick, or cold, my mother used to warm up a blanket in the dryer and wrap us in it. She had a quilted satin bed jacket (made by her Aunt Clarice, I believe,) which she always heated and wrapped around our frozen feet. I want my mommy!

I know I don't have the cinnamon apple recipe either, but I'm sure I can fake it too. I may have bought too many apples, and Xochitl found them in the grocery sack on the kitchen table and rolled a few of them down the hall, so they might be bruised. Therefore, I guess it's lucky I got a lot of them!

The crescent rolls, I feel confident about. I need to remember to take my rotary cutting mat to SF. It's what I use when I cut out rolls, cookies, pie crust...

I was kind of hoping to make a pecan pie, but Leonardw is making desserts from Martha Stewart. I'll have to make pecan pie for Christmas. I haven't made one since the time I used nuts from a pecan tree I planted when we lived out at Comanche Point.

In other news, everyone in my Tuesday/Thursday class passed their writing proficiency except for the boy who didn't show up to take it. We are not going to discuss my Monday/Wednesday class.

In line at Young's. A produce bag burst and spilled sugar snaps all over the floor. The customer (to the cashier): "We've had a little pea accident."

I ran a whole bunch of errands today. Two banks. Took Doris Jackman's mixing bowl back to her. Haircut. Mailed the boxer shorts pattern to a Scrabble friend in Washington. Got the car detailed. Got my blood done. Bought forgotten groceries. I am done for. I was really planning to do some yard work today, but I don't have what it takes, and I think I will go take a nap now. The poor black zinnias can stay until after the holiday.

The cats are afraid of us. Miles doesn't remember that I'm his friend. I have my rolls going in the bread machine, and there are smells of cooking wafting from below. I am grateful for my family.

It's COLD. I froze all night; it didn't help that my down comfortor was (is) in the dryer. In the wee morning hours I got up and went looking for a cat. Found Xochitl curled up in the living room, so I brought her back to bed and that helped.

Word is out that Brett Haney has cancer. I hate cancer. I wish it would go away.

I have spoken to Mark Handy about getting the water heater fixed.

Today I came home from church and there were kids eating my tangerines, so I set the dog on them. They didn't know that the dog only wanted to kiss them, and they were suitably terrified. I hope that makes them think twice next time they go to steal fruit.

I spent the afternoon wading through medical bills. There is one lab that keeps billing a procedure that was already paid. Duh, the insurance company keeps bouncing it as a duplicate. I argued with them once and thought I had it resolved. The guy I started with today tried to blame it on the doctor. That was ridiculous. I worked my way up the food chain and I think I eventually solved the problem.

The bills for anesthesia for May 31 and July 24 are still a mess. I have filed the paperwork for an appeal.

It's nice to have that stuff off my desk.

I need to remember to change the title on the house again.

I checked six pages of printed out genealogy names. At that rate, it will take me a year to get through this pile if I spend four hours every single day.

I've been accused of exaggerating before, but this one is for real.

I don't know whose side earwigs are on and whether they deserve to die. They are ugly and scary, but I'm not sure ugly and scary merits the death penalty. I suppose most people would think so when it comes to insects, but I've been thinking about this all my life and I'm not so sure. George Bush is ugly and scary too, and I wouldn't dream of spraying him with shower cleaner.

Hillary and David Neumeister are flying to Hawaii tomorrow. I'm going to do weeding and genealogy tomorrow. Oh, and I have to make the overheads for my Eng. 60 class. Am I having fun yet? Oh you betcha!

I also need to get my 2003 Christmas letter into the mail.

The earwig has crawled out of the body scrubber and died in the bathtub. I looked up earwigs and found that they eat everything, including house plants and garden plants, so they are not on my side in the war and therefore deserve to die. Okay, they don't deserve to die, but they better not go around destroying all my botany experiments or they will!

I suspect he's astigmatic, and that might explain things.

I am going to slow down for a while now that I've reached that landmark because I have some other things I need to be doing.

From Tripmaker, I figured out the skeleton of the proposed December road trip. It's 2270 miles. The worst part is Day 2, 570 miles on I-10. Gosh, are there any new attractions along I-10? (I doubt it.) Actually, if memory serves, Day 3 should be sort of a drag too. What happens on Day 3 is you wake up in Texas, drive all day along I-10, and when the end of the day comes (at last!) you're STILL in Texas!

I got a pneumonia shot yesterday, and today I can hardly move my arm. I have to type all day today too, working on new grammar overheads for next semester and revising the lesson plan calendar.

One of my orange trees got mealybugs, so I went out this morning and murdered them with alcohol. Hope it doesn't murder the orange tree. I figure it works with ficus benjamina. . .

To shop in china departments here is an interesting experience. Does anyone sell anything well designed, balanced, and beautiful anymore, or is all china and crystal glopped up with overdone froufrou nowadays? And what's up with this crystal that features impressed patterns painted in garish colors? It looks like some kind of nightmare project from a surreal Homemaking Meeting held in Dante's Hell. Hand-painted one of a kind art, my patootie!

After Gottschalks East Hills, I went to the [shudder] mall. Horrible place. All the stores were heaped with red sweaters and reeking of artificial holiday scent; it was making me squirrley. Music, we won't mention. After the mall, with no results in sight, I sank to the level of Bed, Bath & Beyond and Linens & Things. Ha. At Linen's & Things there was no Christmas muzak--they were playing rock and roll.

Finally, in desperation, I drove down to The Marketplace and went to Olcott's, an independent fancy china shop. Gaaaaahhhhh! NO Lennox! The manager gave me to understand (without her saying so) that much regular line stuff is not in stock as their inventory is tied up in "holiday" merchandise. Such as the 65th anniversary edition of the Spode Christmas Tree pattern, I guess.

I gave up. I bought a Beleek vase.

As a side note, I shopped at each of these places for a straight-sided, tube cake pan (NOT an angel food pan) because I dreamed up an idea for Christmas baking. We've been having a discussion on Mollybluestocking about bundt pans--Sue Chapman says she has seven or eight of them. I wondered how that could be possible until I started looking. There is an unbelievable variety out there. At Olcott's, they even had a square one with impressions of snowflakes on it. Wouldn't it be fun to set out a dessert table with several different kinds of gorgeous cake, pies under crystal domes, mousses, cheesecakes... (I actually did this once, for Thanksgiving, and it WAS fun. I would do it every Thanksgiving, but we usually go spend it with the Richardsons, and I've been led to know over the years that cooking is Not My Job.)

I do own one bundt pan. I got it at a garage sale.

Why am I not surprised?

I would hate to think the man has the soul of a scrapbooker. Is it looking that way? It was a great shot and would make a wonderful Thanksgiving page, but if it didn't happen, it's disqualified!

I anticipate this cross-country trip will be slightly warmer than the last one because I'm going on I-10 instead of I-40. No Flagstaff. No Albuquerque.

I attended the wedding of Allysha Jones, held at the Bakersfield Art Museum. They are having an exhibition of French Impressionism, which will run through January. Most of the pictures are very different from the stereotypical French Impressionist paintings although there are a few comprising pastel dots. Several paintings were actually, well, mechanical and clear precursors to modernism. An interesting installation. Oh, p.s., the wedding was interesting too. Kim looked absolutely stunning, and Payton was adorable. I wish I had coloring like Allysha's; she is a beautiful girl.

Michele: And we won't even discuss Wasatch dialects.

frances: I hope not.

Anon: Why not, we pray to the same Lard you do

"What do you mean by it? Up to no good, I reckon. Spying on the private business of my people, I guess. Thieves, I shouldn't be surprised to learn. Murderers and friends of elves, not unlikely.

I went back to bed and explained to Tonks that with the privilege of having a kitty door comes the responsibility of making sure only family members use it. And what about Gretel? Big lump snoozing away on the rug through it all.

Rachel and I went to White Forest Nursery and bought a Christmas tree. It smells wonderful. We got a shorter one that usual and put it atop the antique trunk. Quite the procedure, wrestling it into place. While we were taking a nap, it tipped over, watering the tree skirt, trunk, and floor with its gallon of water. I have set it back upright and wired it to the curtain rod with florist wire. It is starting to look like we aren't going to get the decorations up today.

We are going minimalist, decoration wise because we have to leave the Monday after Christmas, and it's always such a drag to take everything back down. The Boy Scouts are not picking up trees this year. I guess I'm going to have to chop up the tree and put it in my bin.

Dear Family and Friends:

Another year has come and gone and we're still here! 2003 was an eventful year. I overcame some setbacks with my health, went a lot of places, and did a lot of things. I'm on an IV twenty-four hours, which gives me some energy, if not to do everything I'd like, then at least to do something. I teach a class every day at the college and do the church newsletter. I'm also continuing to scrapbook a lifetime of photographs, and I only have five years left to do. My genealogy has been very time consuming. I did finish doing all this for Uncle Carl's genealogy, and I found a few places where we are related way back. I'm getting ready to link Carl's genealogy to his sourdough memorial website

I am so proud of my kids, and I very much appreciate the opportunity to be a mother. Leonard is still writing software in San Francisco; in addition, he is working on the Wesley Clark presidential campaign in Little Rock, Arkansas. That's quite a commute!

Susanna is the big newsmaker. She graduated from Brigham Young University and then married John Chadwick in July. I was busy most of the spring making the dresses. She didn't choose an elaborate design for her gown, but it was still tricky redrafting the pattern to make the dress she had in mind, and it was scary cutting into that length of peau de soie. Ok, it was really peau de polyester, but it still was expensive fabric! My dress was made from tablecloths left from the wedding of my friend Susan's daughter. You can see the results in the above picture of our family standing on the steps of the Los Angeles Temple after the wedding.

Rachel is a senior at UCLA. It's been nice for me to have her relatively near and not trotting the globe this year. She is majoring in European Studies and working as a research assistant to a professor who is doing a book about women on the front in World War I.

A sad event of 2003 was the passing of my aunt, LeJeune Whitney. I am bereft. At Aunt Jeuney's request, I read from Tennyson's "Ulysses" at her funeral. This poem was somewhat comforting, and provided me with a philosophy to keep me going. I think I'll have it at my own funeral. We buried her in Provo next to my husband, Roy. I think he would be pleased with that.

After John and Susanna's Utah reception, Leonard, Rachel, and I went on a little expedition out into the Utah desert to find trilobites. We brought back a lot of fossils and were thrilled by the adventure and the time together. We had also planned to visit the new dinosaur site in St. George, but we couldn't find it, having used all our navigational luck locating the prehistoric lake bed where the trilobites used to live.

As another year draws to a close, I reflect on our shared memories, and look forward to hearing from each of you. If you ever wonder what I'm doing, you can check my weblog at www.crummy.com/jabberwocky and get an update, or you can write me at franny@inreach.com. I love you and hope to hear from you soon.

Love always,

Frances

The "Hawaiian" room was the bedroom of Jordan, the Lewis's Downs Syndrome son, who was feeling very dispossessed. He came in while we were there to rustle around in the closet looking for a videotape, and I asked him how he was surviving the wedding. He muttered something about "my mother...."

Dinner was an eggroll and a serving of this Hawaiian chicken salad the Lewises make, with cheesecake instead of a wedding cake. It was all I could do to keep it down. I don't do well with salad anymore even though this was good.

The groom looked exhausted. I think he better get used to that feeling. Andy Smith was standing around looking like a lost soul because his wife was running the kitchen. "I'm the electrician," he said. It's true--they needed to have one on board. All in all, a spectacle for the ages.

Gretel has been a very, very good girl. So far.

My children are all here and all safe; I am grateful.

We are having a very nice visit. I love being with my family.