Sunday, June 28, 2009

Interesting Things from the Mormon Miracle Pageant

Okay, I've come up for air after being in the Mormon Miracle Pageant for two weeks. Not only did I perform so I wasn't home until 11:30 p.m., I also hurried to get to my book booth by 10:00 a.m. so I could smile at people and tell them all about the magical books we had. Other things I came across at the Pageant: A one-eyed lady who was blinded when she pulled suspenders out of her washing machine and a buckle flipped up and hit her in the eye, a snippet of conversation that went, "She cheated on me with a leprechaun," a ten year old entrepreneur who made and sold bows and arrows, earned $50.00 washing people's windows, and sold his Halloween candy the day after Halloween to bring home a whopping $15.00.
My friend, Jean, also helped me pick up fallen branches with seeds that my bunnies like to eat. We stuffed them in a bag and put them in my car. (That's a real friend!)
One day Michael went with me and said, "I think I want to go to BYU."
"Okay," I said, feeling a puff of pride that he was already looking forward to higher education.
"I haven't really decided," he continued. "But they're the only ones who make that really good cookies and cream milk."
Hey, that's a good reason! Michael got sunburned at the pool one day (He even had a T-shirt on, the little blondie!) and suffered from heat stroke for two days. He's fine now, it's just that his face is peeling.
One last thing- all of you who came back to see me at the Pageant booth, I am delighted you came. I'm so very sorry that it's hard for me to remember people. I can see in some of your eyes that you're disappointed I don't remember you. It's not one of my talents, or else my people memory brain cells died when I was born with the cord wrapped around my neck. The oxygen tent may not have helped much, either.
Please know that I do care about you and hope that you have as much fun having me get reacquainted with you as I do!

Friday, June 19, 2009

After graduation we slide into Pageant!

Yes, well, here is my big, strong 18-year-old Zackary graduating already. It's hard to believe, even though his three older brothers have already proved that time doesn't stand still. Looks like we're having fun, neh? Especially Zack's oldest brother beating on him - ah, brotherly love!
Okay, so now I'm involved dawn to dusk in the Mormon Miracle Pageant (except for this moment when I had to run home to get more books because I sold out of two titles!)
If only all life's problems were so delightful.

Monday, June 15, 2009

Making Saggy Faces In The Mirror

A noise made me turn to see what it was, but I only saw myself staring back at me from a full-length mirror that I put there in order to check if my slip was showing or there was toilet paper on my shoe. Since I was bent over the keyboard, my face tipped to one side, and I noticed that I was lopsided.
I forgot all about the noise and leaned closer.
It was true. The skin on the lower side of my face was slightly longer than the skin on the upper side of my face.
But, wait, look there! The uphill cheek had sag, too, but it sagged toward my nose, creating a pouch of skin, like a reverse chipmunk cheek.
After a few seconds studying my reflection, I couldn’t resist tipping my head to the other side.
Glory be. Now the other side of my face sagged down, just a little, like a big, soft marshmallow just starting to melt.
And now my other cheek snuggled up against my nose like a new puppy.
Wow. I’d never seen my skin so mobile before. It was almost like silly putty. It certainly was silly something.
When I looked straight into a mirror, it didn’t look like that. It’s true that if I bent my head, then raised my eyes before I had my head all the way up, I’d catch sight of a little extra padding between neck and chin.
But it went away as soon as I lifted my chin.
Or I thought it did.
Now I had to try something else. I lay backwards across the chair and tipped my head back until I stared into the mirror, upside down.
Two little piggy eyes stared back at me. Cheeks crowded my cheekbones, wrinkling under bulging skin that couldn’t get over the bump.
I didn’t even recognize myself. I laughed out loud.
What a great spy disguise, if you could only get it to stay that way. Someone needs to invent a face elevator. You could make your skin go up, down, up, down, or stop anywhere in between.
For my next experiment, I grabbed a hand held mirror and bent forward until my face paralleled to the floor. I stared at the blobby sack of flesh before my eyes. Exaggerating my lips, I said, “Hel-lo. How are you to-day?”
It was quite entertaining.
I raised my eyebrows.
I wiggled my nose.
I made a kissy face.
Then I burst out laughing.
My husband would definitely want to close his eyes to smooch that face.
On second thought, why should he? He’d enjoy a good laugh as much as I would.
I never thought that sagging could be so much fun.

Birthday Upside Down Cake

It was my daughter-in-law’s birthday. Now, while homemade creations such as Dr. Seuss cakes, (unintentional, mind you) with frosting bulging out the seams and a silhouette that rivals the Leaning Tower of Pisa is fine for boys, it’s not for a girl. Sometimes my boys made their own cake mess out of mud brown frosting, dented by the plastic feet of cowboys and Indians hastily washed with a dollop of dish soap in a rushing stream of tap water. Once the eager fingers poked partially melted cowboys who sat too close to the campfire and three-legged horses into the frosting, the creation was celebrated by a lusty birthday song.
No, for Jamie, it had to be something nicer, something not made by me or my sons.
So we went to the bakery. As soon as my 12-year-old, Brian, saw it, he knew the cake was Jamie’s. Frosted in royal purple icing, with piping of white and pink around the edge, it was decorated with plastic figures of purses, high heels, and hats. Spread across the expanse of purple were the words, “Born to Shop.”
Yes, it was a cake worthy of my daughter-in-law.
We bought it and carried it home on Brian’s lap. It was either that, or risk having it slide around in the back. I figured if Brian made a move to take off the plastic cover, I was close enough to put a stop to it before he could do more than inhale the sugar and shortening aroma. When we got home, the cake was still intact. When the magic moment arrived, Jamie “oohed” and “aahed,” and laughed in delight at the clever confection.
Seven-year-old Michael sat by Jamie and I set the cake on his lap, making sure his hands were secure on the base before I let go. I snapped three pictures.
Then Michael stood up and started toward the kitchen with the cake. That was when the cake decided to make a run for it. But without any legs, how far could it get?
It was a subtle move at first, the cake making miniscule progress toward the side of its plastic platter. But as it gained momentum, it moved faster, shifting weight pulling the plate sideways in Michael’s hands.
At the final moment, the cake did a swan dive and landed upside down on the carpet. Rather dead than fed.
After a second of stunned silence, I burst out laughing. So did everyone else. Except fifteen-year-old Zack. He gave a sick little smile. He’d wanted some of that road-kill cake.
When I could speak, I said, “Well, Jamie, it looks like we saved ourselves a few calories. But there’s still plenty of ice cream.”
When we scraped the cake off the floor, the only thing left behind was Jamie’s name, written backward on the carpet.
We’ll never forget her birthday, no, we never will.