Yesterday Bill and I were on a mission.

My sister-in-law Sami makes and sells GORGEOUS wreaths. Having helped her (though I’m not sure if cutting pieces of burlap crookedly is actually any help at all) I can vouch for the fact that they are hand made from scratch. And a bargain to boot. See her stuff on Etsy. Her shop is called Sundrop Boutique.

Anyhoo, back to our mission. Sami is selling her wreaths as fast as she makes them these days. In fact, she has made so many wreaths in the recent past that she is running out of the Styrofoam forms. I don’t simply mean running out of them at her home; I mean running out of them in the East Valley.

She mentioned to Bill and me that she only had a few remaining forms, and 33 orders to fill. She wasn’t sure what she was going to do. As I have mentioned before, I ask God every morning to help me be a blessing to someone that day. So I decided to spend Tuesday searching the East Valley for Styrofoam wreath forms. See, I’m retired and all…..

Before I continue, I have to tell you how my husband responded to Sami’s problem. He has already gone to Home Depot, purchased a slab of Styrofoam along with a pipe that measured 8 inches and another pipe that measured 4-1/2 inches, which he intends to use as a “donut cutter” if you will. As I write this blog, I can hear him in the garage using my electric knife to cut out foam wreath bases. Never mind that I’m pretty sure Sami isn’t going to want to spend the time making her own forms even if she can save 15 cents on each form. But Bill loves to be McGyver. God love him.

My way of responding to Sami’s problem was by heading to Dollar Tree.

I had a hunch that’s where I was going to be most successful. And, after all, everything’s a dollar. Can’t beat the price. The same forms are $3.99 at Walmart. So I sat down that morning and planned out a route to the five or six nearest Dollar Trees.

I absolutely suck as a bargain shopper. It comes from really not liking to shop at all. Since shopping is not a pleasurable experience for me, I just want to get it over with by either shopping online or going someplace I know has whatever I want and buying it there, with little thought about price. I know. Not good.

But I really sort of like Dollar Tree. It is mesmerizing to see so much colorful junk in one place. It sort of reminds me of shopping in Egypt, except no bartering. How can you barter when everything is a dollar? I must admit, however, that something about the ubiquitous signage stating EVERYTHING’S $1 that brings out the naughty little child in my 60-year-old self. I am always tempted to start taking items one at a time up to the counter and asking the poor 18-year-old clerk, “How much is this?” until his or her head explodes.

Well, the good news is that we hit paydirt at the very first Dollar Tree to which we went. I’m talking scores of Styrofoam forms, and more in the back. A veritable treasure trove of Styrofoam wreath forms.

Plus, I found some Rubbermaid storage containers that I have been needing. How much?

One dollah!

I’ve had a very pleasant week and many amusing things transpired from which I could pick my Saturday Smile. But as I thought about it, it became clear that the thing that made me laugh out loud, not just once, but over and over again, was the Brian Williams rap featured on Jimmy Fallon’s show. It is hilarious; furthermore, it is absolutely fascinating. I can’t imagine how long it took to create this very clever video. Most of you have probably seen this already, but look at it again because it is more than funny!

Have a good weekend.

I submitted a book review a few weeks ago about Kent Haruf’s glorious book Plainsong. I quickly reread Haruf’s follow-up book, Eventide. It was interesting to read it directly after finishing Plainsong because the characters were fresh in my mind.

Haruf has actually written several subsequent books about Holt, Colorado. Each of the books has different characters – various folks who live in this same fictitious little town on the eastern plains of Colorado. I read, by the way, that it is based on the very real town of Akron, Colorado. Don’t know if that’s true or not.

Eventide carries over a few of the characters.  The Brothers McPheron are essential characters of the book. Victoria and her little girl, now 2 years old, move to Fort Collins, Colorado, so Victoria can attend Colorado State University.  Tom Guthrie and Maggie Jones have very small roles in the book.

But the new characters tie into the old. Maggie has a friend named Rose Tyler, who is a very kind middle-aged social worker. Her caseload includes Betty and Luther, a developmentally disabled couple with two children who strive to be good parents but are too self-absorbed to be of much help when their children are in trouble. We also meet Betty’s brother, Hoyt Raines, who is a bad, bad man.

DJ Kephart is only 11, but is responsible to care for his cranky grandfather. DJ befriends Dena and Emma, daughters of Mary Wells, who has her own troubles.

The way in which Haruf ties the characters together is so subtle, yet brilliant. And again, it is Haruf’s dialogue that drives the entire story, at least in my opinion.

Some have said that Eventide isn’t as good as Plainsong, so I kept this in mind as I read the book. What I concluded is that Haruf’s writing is just as good. His dialogue is perfect and his writing style is simply beautiful. The biggest difference is that the storylines in Eventide are very sad. While the book doesn’t necessarily end sad, some very sad things transpire throughout the course of the book.

Still that isn’t necessarily bad. Good things and bad things happen in all of our lives, and the same is true for the citizens of Holt, Colorado.

I don’t think, however, I would recommend anyone read this book as a starting point. You need Plainsong for context.

Another great book club read.

For being a woman of a somewhat advanced age, I sleep pretty well. I tend to turn over fairly frequently, and nearly always wake up several times a night but generally go right back to sleep. For the most part, I sleep pretty soundly and Bill sleeps like the dead. Our nights are quiet.

We have been keeping our bedroom window open a bit to let in the cool night air. Our AZ home abuts an open desert space. While I have never seen anything back there except bunnies, I have assumed that there was wildlife that visited the area, particularly at night. It seriously, for example, is not unusual to have javalinas making nocturnal visits to urban areas near dessert terrain. I have yet to see one except in the Phoenix Zoo, but it wouldn’t surprise me to learn that they pass through our open space area.

Last night somewhere after midnight, I heard a high-pitched barking sound that didn’t sound particularly like a dog. I had heard it the other night as well. I have concluded that it was a coyote involved in something dangerous. I’m not sure if it was the coyote killing another animal or something like a hawk or eagle killing a coyote. Not being Marlin Perkins, I can’t imagine what I’m hearing. But I don’t have to be Marlin Perkins to know it isn’t good news for one of God’s creatures. The noise is very disturbing and I had a bit of trouble going back to sleep, but finally did.

Just before 4 o’clock, my cell phone began making a noise I had never before heard. It was loud and sounded like a fire alarm. What the……? I leaped from my bed, grabbed the phone, and saw that it said

AMBER ALERT

CASA GRANDE, AZ

Now, I’m not proud to tell you that my very first thought was that I didn’t know there were any children in Casa Grande, AZ – only old people. Quickly putting that thought aside, my next thought was how in the world did they get my telephone number? (Whoever “they” is…)

I hit the dismiss button on my phone, recognizing that I wasn’t likely to see a red Chevy van in the quiet solitude of my bedroom, said a prayer for the child or children apparently abducted and for their family, and crawled back under my covers.

Suddenly, Bill’s cell phone begins to do the same thing.

Here’s a funny thing about Bill (who, by the way, had not awakened for my noisy alarm sound and subsequent leaping out of bed). He took the whole incredibly loud alarm sound coming from his cell phone in stride. Without even looking at the screen to see if the world was ending, he simply turned his phone face down so the light wouldn’t bother him.

WHATEVER!

He was foiled, however, because apparently unless you hit the “dismiss” button, it will keep alerting you, which it did about three minutes later. “HIT THE DISMISS BUTTON OR WE’RE IN FOR A LONG NIGHT,” I said through gritted teeth.

Now understand that I am not a bit disturbed by receiving the Amber Alert. Believe me, if I was the parent of an abducted child, I would want everyone in the entire state to be on the lookout for my child. But I admit to being a bit nonplussed that somehow my cell phone is part of some unknown network that is somehow accessible to them. Soon I will be wearing aluminum foil hats.

By the way, I checked this morning to see what had happened, and all is well I’m happy to report. Well, seeings as it ended up being a mother who abducted her children and was threatening to park the van carrying she and the four children on a railroad track to await an oncoming train, perhaps saying all is well isn’t entirely accurate. But she turned herself in and the children are safe. I am continuing to pray.

I am glad most nights are not that eventful.

Having only spent one complete winter here (this is our second), I can’t purport to be an expert on weather trends in the Valley of the Sun. However, Jen and I came to Phoenix every Presidents Day weekend for, I don’t know, a half a century, and Bill and I have spent a lot of time here in the winter since we bought the house, so I’m not a complete neophyte. What I know is that winters in the desert are unpredictable. Some years we were able to swim in the heated hotel pool on Presidents Day; some years we wore sweaters or coats.

This Presidents Day 2014 I wore shorts and a sleeveless shirt. Spring is here to stay I think. I am very happy about this fact. The people who live here year round are not quite so happy. They look ahead to the long summer – seriously something like six months of 100 plus temperatures – and think “don’t start already!”

Bill is in a continuous fight with our Acacia tree in the front yard. He has it nicely shaped, no easy task as the son-of-a-gun is loaded with sharp thorns, making it difficult to prune. And while the tree catalog says it has “golden yellow puffballs that provide lovely color late winter into spring” (and doesn’t that sound pleasant?) what it doesn’t say is that these “golden yellow puffballs” drop like rain onto the ground, making a terrible unsightly mess that requires constant raking. That wouldn’t sound nearly as nice in the catalog. Furthermore, once the “golden yellow puffballs” are finished puffing, little hard brown pods appear and ultimately

Golden yellow puffballs or beebleberries?

fall onto the ground. Don’t put that rake away yet. It really is one continuous battle. By the way, Bill doesn’t call them “golden yellow puffballs.” He calls them beebleberries. Do any of you Baby Boomers remember Little Lulu?

Anyway, the good news about that Acacia tree is it seems to be the location selected by our lovely little mockingbirds to nest. I hear a lot of rustling going on in the tree (thereby resulting in more “golden yellow puffballs” dropping onto the ground). And the mockingbirds have taken residence there in years past. I’m keeping my fingers crossed. The other day there was a bird on our neighbor’s roof having quite a conversation with one of the birds in our tree. Back and forth. The mockingbird would give two whistles, and the other bird would give two whistles in return. It went on for 10 minutes or so. Very funny.

While I love to see the cacti come alive as spring fully develops (I will post photos because it really is gorgeous), the warm weather bring out more than flowers and mockingbirds. The news people are already talking about the rattlesnakes coming out as soon as the weather reaches 80 – and yesterday and the day before, the temperature was near 90. Yikes.

In fact, the other night we had an unwelcome visitor – a centipede. Seriously, what in the world was God thinking? It was making its way across the floor of our den when I spotted it and hysterically hollered for poor Bill. I must admit I always feel a bit guilty making him kill the critters as I’m certain he doesn’t like them any more than I. But I pick out the grandkids’ birthday presents. It evens out.

Now that I’ve finally gotten over the Super Bowl, I have been enjoying the Sochi Olympics. Well, at least some of the Olympic events. Some I find boring; some I find puzzling; some I find absolutely insane.

I try to like the downhill skiing events. I really do. But mostly the participants are just skiing downhill at an unbelieveably fast and dangerous speed. I do like the ones who  spin in the air, though I always wonder, how did they talk themselves into doing that the first time? Was it on purpose?

Curling is fascinating and puzzling at the same time. I must admit I haven’t been able to actually watch a curling, what? match? game? event? from start to finish. I can’t seem to find it on the television. Perhaps it’s on live, at which time it is the middle of the night in AZ and I am sound asleep in my little bed. At any rate, I have decided that if I ever take up curling, I want to be the one who throws the what? ball? puck? doohicky? and then screams. I did enough sweeping in the bakery when I was younger.  I don’t want that particular job.

And what is up with the skeleton racing? The people who participate in that event are certifiably insane. Who thinks it’s a good idea to lay down on a tiny little metal sled wearing nothing more than a bike helmet like my 5-year-old granddaughter wears when she’s on her Razor scooter and race down a frozen track at 80 mph? At least the racers don’t have Barbie on their helmets. But I’m telling you, that helmet is not going to do a thing for them if they run into a frozen wall at 80 mph. They might as well have Barbie on the helmet because it’s not good for anything else.

Really, the only thing I really look forward to when it comes to any of the Winter Olympic events is the figure skating. I have been enjoying watching both the men and the women. I must admit, however, it was somewhat unpleasant to sit next to my husband and watch Yuzuru Hanyu, the Japanese man who took first place in the men’s long program last week. Bill simply couldn’t get over the fact that the man was wearing a blouse. It didn’t matter how well Hanyu skated. Bill simply couldn’t forgive the blouse choice.

As an aside, my best friend going all the way back to elementary school  still laughs when she recalls trying to teach me to ice skate at the skating pond in Columbus when I was 10 or 12. At her urging, I skated onto thin ice, quite literally, and one of my feet fell through. My guardian angel kept me from falling completely through the ice while she laughed. The pond was only a couple of feet deep, but still…. Junior high pride and all that. She got her comeuppance, however, when she went to the warming hut and the back of her navy blue pea coat caught on fire. Our guardian angels were kept very busy. No future Olympians among us.

As for my love of Olympic figure skating, blame Dorothy Hamill.

My blog is the musings of a baby boomer, and Dorothy Hamill is a creature of the Baby Boomer Generation. Despite my increasingly failing 60-year-old memory, I recall like it was yesterday what it was like to watch Ms. Hamill on the ice. She was remarkable in the 1976 Olympic games.

First off, there was that haircut. Oh, oh, oh, did I love that haircut. And I wasn’t the only one. That cut could be seen on girls all over the United States in 1976-77. I high-tailed it down to the beauty shop to get my hair cut in the Dorothy Hamill “wedge.”

Hamill’s performance in 1976 was nearly flawless. She took home gold medals in both the short and the long programs, earning first-place scores from all nine judges. She is also credited with developing a new skating move, dubbed the “Hamill Camel”, a camel spin that turned into a sit spin.

I was curious to see how her skating compared to the skating of today’s Olympians, so I watched a You Tube video of her performance. Yes, she was masterful. She was beautiful and graceful. And her hair would spin around. Oh, the glory of it all.

But her performance today wouldn’t even begin to compete with current skaters, who do triple quad thingamahookies, give a leap, and then do them again.  But no one can spin on the ice like Dorothy Hamill could. And there was that camel spin that turned into a sit spin. So pretty.

However, she had to pick up her own flowers instead of having skating fledglings to do it as they do nowadays.

There have been many great skaters since Dorothy Hamill (Kristi Yamaguchi? Glorious.) But Ms. Hamill is the one I will always remember. Because she is a baby boomer, just like me.

She was dismal on Dancing With the Stars, however.

My 3-year-old great nephew Austin loves, loves, LOVES  Lightening McQueen.

The movie Cars runs on an endless loop on the DVD player in their car. Austin quietly mouths the words as they are being spoken because he has them memorized. He owns somewhere around 15 or 20 No. 95 Lightening McQueen red cars. Some are big; some are small. Many, I’m sorry to say, are exactly alike. But nothing makes him happier than receiving another No. 95 red car. He can take your hand and lead you right to where they are located at Target, Walmart, and Toys R Us.

So we probably shouldn’t have been surprised when other day he looked at his grandmother (my sister Jen) with his big blue eyes open wide and said, “Grammie, I want ice cream. Will you take me to Dairy McQueen?”

I had another smiling moment one morning this week when Bill came into our kitchen where I was already sitting, poured himself a cup of coffee, sat down next to me, and announced that he had just woken up from a dream in which he was flying around the country wearing an anti-gravity space suit. Seriously, his dreams are hilarious.

Have a good weekend.