Looking back with Lot's Wife

Do you ever get that kind of tired where you feel all whiney and you can’t stop telling people how tired you are? But you’re not tired, really, you’re just whiney? My family hates it when this mood comes to call, which it occasionally does, although, of course, normally you would describe me as effervescent and sparkly as a bottle of Martinelli’s fake champagne. When this happens, a pair of torn green sweat pants sneak out of the closet and jump me along with this really comfortable men’s T-shirt that makes me look like a bag full of balloons. The fridge door opens with a rush of cool air and, surprise, out pops the ice cream! How delightful. Why does this happen to me? Why does it happen to anybody? My first theory is that it comes from never saying no and never giving yourself time to be alone, a warning to those of us who have a pretty steady supply of family around the old kitchen table. Suddenly, it becomes alluring to stay up until two in the morning watching movies, reading t...

My friends LaRue and Jack live in Grand Junction and were home school-ers for their five kids. Now those five kids are home schooling also. Last week I was visiting and went to a family band practice at the home of an Amish family also home schooled. My thoughts weren’t about being Amish or home schooling, but about the different shapes of families and the comfort therein. At band practice, everyone moved so easily. A small girl strummed a mandolin, roughly on beat, completely drowned out by the others. Someday she plans to be part of the band but for now she’s intently watching the others, serious about her participation. It always surprises me that all the kids are home all day. They drop in at grandma’s to make cookies and pick things up in the middle of a Wednesday morning. The moms are planting gardens and calling LaRue like she was the library, “Do you think the tomatoes will get enough sun on the side of the house?” “Can you use honey to replace sugar in banana bread?” Th...

I'm thinking about doing something different with my yard this year. I'm thinking about doing exactly what I want. This is new for me. Gardening has always been fraught with rules about "too late," "too early," "too hot," "too cold," "too much acid," "not enough fertilizer." It all centers around the great mystery of horticulture, something that other people know, even some people I think are kind of dumb. It's like there's actually going to be an atomic explosion if something costing 98 cents dies in my yard. People will stand and point, "Look, half their delphiniums died. What num-nuts." (I would reconsider word choice here because you’re trying to spell numb-nuts, referring to the male genitalia.) Then two years ago there was a big moment in my life, a moment in mid-July, with the temperature hovering around 95, that I decided to get rid of this big orange spikey thing by the front porch. Not wanti...

My daughter-in-law called to tell me she was eating alone for the first time in five years. She was over the moon, "I'm eating pancakes! By myself!" Ahh, the cherished moments of respite when your expectations have sunk so low that eating breakfast by yourself is a treat. "It was the best of times, it was the worst of times." The grandkids and I had such a great week together in Monterey, California, while their dad was at a convention and their mom took some time to herself. With the exception of an occasional drop-in visit from the responsible adults, I had them to myself. We decided we'd see if we could make a flock of seagulls follow us down the path next to the lake. We'd bought the $12.99 bucket of Kentucky Fried and a pack of tortillas. I ripped the skin off my chicken as fast as I could and swallowed it whole; it seems like I'm always starving when I'm with them, diving for scraps that fall from the table. There's nothing but le...

Ohmigosh!! I have seen the end of the world and it was in Los Angeles last weekend! I came to California to take my 16-year-old grandson Kyle on a weekend date. Kyle and I are experienced travelers--he's heard my worst snoring and I know he stays up all night watching the Food Channel if he can't sleep. We're buds and I'm willing to do just about anything with him because he's not pushy or scarey like other nastier teenagers. He's kind to the old and infirm. He's a nice, clean cut kid, and you have to remember that no matter what I tell you about our experience over the next few paragraphs. Here was my plan: we would drive up the coast to this darling little motel in this darling little town called Cambria. There were near-by tide pools and complimentary shuffle board and croquet. I can't believe I thought he would do that!!! It's like sometimes when you haven't seen someone in a while you make up this imaginary person that's partly w...

Well, I’m almost packed. I’ve got two big long foam-rubber floaties because I really hate to be stuck in a swimming pool without them. And I’ve got two little inner tubes and some of those arm things that keep kids from drowning. I better take my air pump because I’ll need it to blow everything up. Then I’ve got some kites, four in case it takes four to get two that work. And one of those rocket blaster things they’ve got out in front of Funfinity, the Springville toy store. And two plastic croquet sets from Walmart so we can all play. And a plastic bag full of Duplo blocks. And a puzzle of the United States. And my jacks. And my Prilosec and my Wellbutrin. I’ve got seven t-shirts for when people wipe their snotty noses on my shoulder or my ice cream cone dribbles; my knit roll-up peasant skirt so I can show up at Primary and be a good example, and two pairs of jeans plus the ones I’m wearing on the plane. I’ve got a pair of those stretch jeans that are supposed to hold in you...