The Mean Bread Making Boy

I had eaten wisely, brushed my teeth, and even flossed. (Extra points and guilt-free good night's sleep for that!) I was restful in my silky summer nightgown, innocently writing in my journal, when I smelled a smell. A wondrously terrible smell.
Fresh baked bread.
I knew my 18-year-old was up to delicious no good when he asked me where the dough hook was. But I had every intention of being fast asleep before the irresistible odor of fresh baked bread filled my head.
It's not that I don't like bread, I do, but not at 9:00 p.m. at night when I'm trying to lose a few pounds.
But here I was, still awake, and smelling that awfully good smell.
Then I heard a noise. I turned and saw my two teenage boys standing in the doorway, chewing on warm bread with evil grins on their faces, wafting their hands over the steaming slices to make me more fully aware of the tempting aroma.
Bag the diet! I rushed downstairs and cut a slice of bread, and since man does not live by bread alone, I melted butter and honey on its top and ate it.
I can just wear looser clothes.
Thanks, Zack.

Eating right, yeah, right

I got some old health magazines from the library give-away box with the best intentions of digesting the tantalizing information promised on the covers... "Shrink your waist in 20 seconds!"... "Have the energy of a 5-year-old in 50 easy steps!"... "Yes, you, too, can be a cover model for 'Sports Illustrated': It's never too late!"
So, I put the treasured magazines on the back of the toilet so I'd be sure to read them.
And I did.
And guess what? If you don't crush your garlic and let it sit for 30 minutes before using in a recipe, you will grow green spots and swell up to the size of an Olympic swimming pool.
If you don't let your watermelon sit on the counter for 5 days before cutting, you will die of watermelon vitamin deficiency and have to buried outside of the continental United States so as not to spread the disease.
If you don't cook your tomatoes to a certain temperature, little squiggly things from the blood-red innards will invade your body and make you do things out in public that you don't want to be accountable for. Like the hokey pokey.
My head was so mixed up with priceless information that I threw those magazines away.
Sometimes ignorance is bliss. And sometimes it's nice to have a few extra pounds. They keep you warmer in winter!

Sliding Down Backward!

The family reunion notice said to "Bring a swim suit and towel." Being the obedient person I am, I stuffed my blue-swirly patterned swim suit (Michael calls it a camouflage suit because it looks like water) into my bag, then asked said 10-year-old to get me a towel. He brought me a towel that doesn't even completely cover my hips and carried a giant, humongous beach towel for his own.
There weren't many people when we got there, so Michael and I went in swimming. THEN he challenged me to go down the slide. It took a couple of heart-hammering moments, but I agreed. He demonstrated for me, then said, "You can hold your nose if you want to, but I don't."
Well, if he didn't, then why should I?
Because my nose turns up at the end, that's why!
I slid down the slide and got water up my nose. So I said I was done for now, which was fine because some of his cousins had arrived to swim with him.
I wasn't planning to go back in the pool until evil niece Jacquelyn squirted me with cold water. I had to chase her down. Once I was re-wet, all the little kiddles challenged me to slide down the slide backwards. They were doing it, so how hard could it be? I climbed up and they all chanted "Shirley, Shirley, Shirley!" Talk about peer pressure, and yes, children are my peers.
It was scary to not see where you were going and have your turned up nose free for filling with chlorinated water.
But the kids did it.
So I did it.
AND IT WAS FUN!
I only found out after that all the adults sitting around the tables talking had paused long enough to join in the Shirley chant.
Apparently they were my peers, too.

Brave New Book!

Valor Publishing is pleased to announce that pre-orders for Utah State Attorney General Mark Shurtleff’s novel, “Am I Not A Man: The Dred Scott Story” are now available on the Valor website. By placing your order between now and Labor Day, you will receive a discount price and your copy will be signed and numbered by Mark Shurtleff.
This book is truly incredible. You are entertained and edified at the same time. Mark’s writing is incredible and he has managed to weave his research in with his storytelling to create a masterpiece.
This novel is a story you won't want to miss.
Utah State Attorney General Mark Shurtleff’s ground-breaking new novel, “Am I Not A Man: The Dred Scott Story” is now available for preorder at a reduced price.
An illiterate slave, Dred Scott trusted in an all-white, slave-owning jury to declare him free. But after briefly experiencing the glory of freedom and manhood, a new state Supreme Court ordered the cold steel of the shackles to be closed again around his wrists and ankles. Falling to his knees, Dred cried, "Ain't I a man?" Dred answered his own question by rising and taking his fight to the U.S. Supreme Court.
Dred ultimately lost his epic battle when the Chief Justice declared that a black man was so inferior that he had "no rights a white man was bound to respect."
Dred died not knowing that his undying courage led directly to the election of President Abraham Lincoln and the emancipation proclamation.
Dred Scott's inspiring and compelling true story of adventure, courage, love, hatred, and friendship parallels the history of this nation from the long night of slavery to the narrow crack in the door that would ultimately lead to freedom and equality for all men.
You can order your sale-priced, signed and numbered limited edition copy of “Am I Not a Man” by visiting http://www.valorpublishinggroup.com before Labor Day. There are only 5,000 copies of this special edition being printed and once they’re gone, they’re gone … and the sale price ends on Labor Day. You can request that Mark personalize your inscription, and your book will be mailed to you before the stores even get their copies. For more information, visit http://www.valorpublishinggroup.com

Singing to Youtube

Three nights ago, it was just Bob, Michael, and me at home. We watched "27 Dresses" which has a memorable barroom rendition of "Benny and the Jets" by Elton John. So we looked it up on the Internet, on Youtube, a version with words, and I started singing along. (If you've never looked them up, I'll tell ya, there are some weird words.) Then Bob started singing along (okay, anyone who knows Bob can pick themselves up off the floor now) then Michael started singing along, even though he didn't know what a lot of the words meant.
As I sat there blubbering "B-B-B-Benny and the Jetssssss" I had the vision of an old-timey family gathered around the piano in song. Well, we had the gathering part right, but the piano was replaced by a computer. Hey, it's all about togetherness.