Looking back with Lot's Wife

I’m not exaggerating when I tell you I was held against my will at the Salt Lake Whole Foods store last week. Delicious food weaves its spell and human beings must fall prey to their lust for organic, aged, imported products. Or I’m saying they do, for the sake of my argument. I went there, innocently, hoping to find sour cherries to make a pie for my beloved, but pretty much ignored husband who for some idiot reason I told I could make any flavor pie. Like I was a cook, like the only thing stopping us from feeling like the dwarves coming home to Snow White was just a little creativity. When we got married, he said his favorite dessert was pie and I said, “My darling, we will always have pie.” Then I got pregnant and started throwing up and we memorized the McDonald’s menu and that’s how we got along for the next upteen years. We ate kid food, even when the kids weren’t here. And now here I was at the epicenter of adult food: sharp cheddar cheese, homem...

I’m on day three of this bird dying in my house. It’s in the air ducts, in possibly the most unreachable place ever (my husband says it’s in the walls) and I am going crazy. I can only take SO MUCH PAIN! Why is this happening to me? I feel so bad. Okay, full disclosure, there is also a bird in our downstairs stove, dead, that no one wants to take out. It too fell victim to our duct system. It’s covered with ashes and totally dried out. My granddaughter discovered it one day opening the stove door. We never use that stove; it’s like one of those things you put in for the last days when we’re all going to be huddled down in the basement for the nuclear winter and we don’t want to freeze to death. Or go without popcorn. Whichever. Birds have landed in our vents before but I’ve always been able to scare them out, catch them in a bath towel and set them free to be eaten by hawks. The cats keep prowling around the furnace closet. They recognize the sound...

You know, it was a big deal when cake mixes were invented, and TV and toasters. I don’t think kids today appreciate what a big break through preservative were. Well, I remember moldy bread and green hot dogs, thank you, and I haven’t died yet from anything weird ending in the letters “hyde.” When I was little I had to put my toast in the oven and turn it over midway. That was partly because my mother would never buy a toaster, but it was a big deal when we did. But now the pendulum has swung and I’m starting to see more and more parents who won’t let their kids watch TV and have to have everything homemade. My grandkids in California aren’t allowed to bring packaged treats to school birthday parties, they have to either get them from a bakery or make them themselves. No one appreciates preservatives anymore. There was such excitement in the fifties about being modern. Modern art, Katherine Hepburn’s clothes, Ford Thunderbirds with that little round hole on t...

Like many people, I hope I’m not an idiot. Unlike younger people, I have to wonder if I’m an idiot and don’t know it. That’s because the bar is so low for old people. And although I hate to point fingers, it’s your fault, young people. You don’t expect old people to keep up. People tell ten-year olds all the time to get up off their rear and get the lawn mowed. No one says that to grandmothers and you know why? They feel sorry for them. Imagine belonging to a group that everyone thinks is pitiful. It’s like being an infant, without the adorable part. The worst is that when you’re old, people want to show you how grateful they are by helping you. And, frankly, it’s just so great to let everyone else do the work. But I am rediscovering the fact that I have a body that works and that I can use it. When you’re old, there are so many strikes against you. We may be carrying the equivalent of a hefty fourth grader under our elastic waistbands. We n...

I’ve got that flu you get in the summer when you get dizzy every time you stand up and you feel like barfing all the time. Yay!!! Having come from a long line of hypochondriacs (“Can you see that red spot on my arm/back/face? Is it getting bigger? I think it’s getting bigger. Does it look swollen to you?”), being sick is the best excuse ever to watch the Colin Firth Pride and Prejudice , take drugs, and get out of stuff you don’t want to do. (“Ward breakfast? No, I’m sorry I can’t be there at six to cook bacon. I’m sick.”) What’s not to love about being slightly sick? Especially because you usually get sick when you’re tired and could use the break. But like everything, if you fail to plan, you plan to fail. You’ve got to have your backups ready. First you need food. I’m going to suggest Pringles. Why? Because no one is ever sick enough that they can’t eat a can of Pringles. You’re probably sick because of stress anyway and nothing relaxes like a sudde...

I didn't realize I was this hidden. Maitlan grew so fast! We're missing Clay and Eric and the Elder half of the family, but we had a wonderful time with the great food, the ocean and the pool, and the crabs! Our own little zoo pets.

So for my first article for the brand new Springville Independent, I should write something profound about beginnings and what they mean to all of us. How a fresh start is a chance to recommit to those high ideals that drive us towards the best in a free press in America. And to be sure, while there was no paper, I kept thinking about all the money the city council spends in its day to day business, wondering who was going to watch it happen and tell everybody. Where is the anger, the outrage, the thrill of calling your mayor and councilmen and complaining if you have no idea of what’s going on? But then I was also thinking about spending money on our vacation in Mexico and how that was really more relevant to me. Let’s just get it right out there; anyone who tells you that Mexico is cheap is lying. Maybe somewhere in the Mexican equivalent of Ohio it’s cheaper, but anywhere you can drink the water is going to cost you the same amount it does here; but the stuff i...