LGM

Brad Silberling's City of Angels has been playing on TV for the past week or so. You may remember it -- Nicholas Cage plays an angel, Meg Ryan plays a surgeon (!). What you may not know is that it's actually a remake of a German film by Wim Wenders called Wings of Desire. In that version, the angel falls for a circus worker - an acrobat, I think.

Anyway, Suzy and I saw City of Angels in the theater and enjoyed it enough to buy it on VHS back when that was the thing to do. I've sort of thought of it as one of "our" movies since then.

So it occurred to me when I saw it the other night that it was a perfect role for Nic Cage - to play something not quite human, a little cold and distant, wanting to be normal but not being able to pull it off. It also occurred to me that City of Angels might be the last good movie Nic Cage was ever in. He seems to have just given up and gone from interesting, sometimes experimental actor to professional paycheck whore. I mean, have you seen some of the stanky stank bombs this guy has been in over the last decade? It's like he's not even looking. He just gets driven from one set to another, fitted with one terrible (and I mean terrible) wig or another, is pointed toward the camera, and someone yells, "Action."

So I look on IMDB and find that the actual last good movie NC was in (if you are generous with your definition of the word "good") was either 2005's World Trade Center or 2003's Matchstick Men. So, at best, it's been seven years since Mr. Cage has appeared in something that didn't drip a rich and robust lame sauce.

Out of curiosity, I looked up a couple of other former greats who have floundered, sputtered, or otherwise petered out. Harrison Ford? His LGM was What Lies Beneath (2000) and before that, Air Force One (1997). Not a good track record for the last twelve years.

Mel Gibson. Ol' Mel, as you may recall, was one of the biggest stars in the world in the 80s and 90s. He was cool on screen and off. A family man with with a kajillion kids and the same wife he started with. He's totally blown that and just gone bonkers, but what about his acting career? I'll go ahead and say that Apocalypto, his Mayan chase movie, is totally awesome. It's bloody for sure, but also absolute proof to me that someone with a brain and a budget could make really great movies out of the Book of Mormon if they wanted to. Anyway, he only wrote and directed that one so it doesn't count. I'm talking good movies that people want to see this person in. What was Mel's LGM? 2002's Signs which, coincidentally, is also director M. Night Shyamalan's LGM. Ten years of crappy for both of them.

Fascinating, isn't it? For some people's careers, you can point to an exact date in time and say, "Yep, that's the last time they got anything right."

So, what actor can you confidently point to that has a distant LGM?

The Answer

I was messing with Avery earlier today. She was putting her earrings on in the hallway mirror when I called her into the room. I had on my best "this is serious, you are potentially in huge trouble" face and told her I needed to ask her a question. She looked a little troubled and said, "Okay."

"I want a straight answer out of you about this, do you understand?"

She nodded.

"This is important."

She nodded again, less certain.

"What I want to know is...." dramatic pause "how are you so cool?"

I watched her expression change from slightly scared to "Are you seriously my dad?" and it tickled me endlessly. What was even better was her response. Without missing a beat, she replied, "It's because I wear mustache-shaped earrings." And she left the room. I laughed for a good five minutes.

So there you have it, people. Cool = mustache-shaped earrings. Now we know.

Whew

So, as predicted, this last semester was hectic. Lots of driving, juggling, squeezing, scraping, and running. And, as of today, it's over. I submitted all of my final grades this afternoon, and now it's done until next year. I always experience a combination of relief and sadness every time a term ends. On the one hand, having the anvil weight of papers lifted off my shoulders for a few weeks is a wonderful feeling. On the other hand, I often look back at the previous sixteen weeks and see a wide variety of my own screw ups. Sometimes I have classes that I feel really confident about, like I really helped students get valuable knowledge and skills they wouldn't otherwise have. Other times, I feel like a Borscht-belt comedian who spent the last four months bombing in a tough room. "I just flew in from my office upstairs. Boy, are my arms tired!"

One of the nice things about this semester was going to work with Suzy. We both taught at IVCC's satellite campus in Ottawa three times a week, so we were together, driving, talking about teaching, having lunch together literally all the time. And it was fun. I liked it. While neither of us liked the time and cost of driving to Ottawa all.the.freaking.time. I enjoyed having Suzy as a colleague - trading stories about students' ridiculous excuses, discussing the virtues of Blackboard, gossiping about coworkers - how many spouses ever get that? Most people, I imagine, go off to work for eight or nine hours, come back, and say, "Yeah, it was fine." It was a unique experience to sit side-by-side with Suzanne in the work room, grading quizzes, making copies. While much of this semester can lie down in the snow and freeze to death as far as I'm concerned, I liked working with Suzy and will miss that aspect of Fall 2012.

A lot has happened in the world, and, of course, no one is poorer for a lack of my comments about any of it. We had an election and a subsequent wave of Mormon weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth on the Internet so profound, you would have thought Church leadership said something other than "We support the President and pray for him. You should too."

We had a Frankenstorm hit the east coast. It makes me more and more sure that the ocean is cool to visit but nothing I'd ever want to live next to.

Of course, last week's events are just too terrible to even contemplate. I have had to be careful about how much coverage I watch about what happened in Newtown, Connecticut because I have a surprisingly low tolerance for it. It's simply one of the worst things I can think of. There aren't really even any words for it. It makes me deeply sad when I think about it.

I do much better when writing about silly movies and books. I'm better with snark than sentiment.

In news closer to home, it has been a season of birthdays for us. In September, Parker turned 3, and Avery turned 10. Just this last week, Maryn turned 12. I remember the last 12 years -- it's not like I blacked out in my first year of grad school and then woke up with a 12 year old daughter. (Although that sounds like a failed ABC drama produced by J.J. Abrams doesn't it?) I just can't figure out why those twelve years have gone so fast. There were so many days when I've thought, "Holy crap, will this day ever end?" How could have so many days like that and so many years that seem to have just clipped by?

Parker is maturing, but it's taking some work. She's very smart, quite verbal, and playful - but she also has a naughty streak in her. Staying put, listening, not running like crazy in the opposite direction when I tell her to "come here!" are not her strong suits right now. She is pacifier free and sleeps in a big girl bed. She can go potty in the toilet when she feels like it - the problem is that she rarely feels like it. We will work on that over Christmas break.

Avery is still the tallest kid in her class. We went to their Christmas concert tonight, and she's always in the back, in the middle because she towers over every other person. It makes it easy to forget that beneath all her physical maturity and bravado is a very tender heart. She's a sensitive kid, but she covers it up with a lot of bombast. She knew I'd had kind of a crappy afternoon and so, before bed, she offered to show me all the embarrassing choreography she learned but didn't end up having to perform for the Christmas concert as a way of cheering me up. She knew it would make me laugh, and so she put herself out there a little because she wanted me to be happy. She's a sweet kid, despite what she'd have you think.

Maryn is becoming a young woman, and it is freaking me right the freak out. Occasionally, she'll come around the corner and I'll just be struck by how mature she looks. She's still a goof  and likes to play dress up and snuggle with her dad, but she's also officially in the Young Women program at church and will be attending the Sunday School class I teach to the teenagers. There's a boy who has a crush on her at school - and she doesn't mind. I like to tease her about it, and, frankly, the idea of a boy liking her kind of gets my hackles up a bit. But she said something really important the other day when I was giving her some good-natured fatherly grilling about this kid. I asked why she liked him back and she said, "Because he's nice to other people. He's not like the other boys, always trying to be cool or tough or funny or whatever. He's just nice." If we can keep her on that track, valuing kindness and decency in a boy, through the rest of her life, I will be thrilled.

In pop culture news, I am woefully bereft. We've barely seen any movies at all, and I've hardly read a book worth mentioning in months and months. Television has been my big pleasure this semester. We like all the soapy stuff -- Revenge, of course, and our new find, Nashville. Downton Abbey is coming back in a little less than a month, and I'm happy about that. The thing the girls and I have really loved is watching the BBC show Sherlock on DVD. I'm a fan of Sherlock Holmes and of re-imagining classic characters in alternative settings, and this show is both wonderfully faithful and brilliantly re-envisioned. I could definitely do with more from Dr. Watson -- Martin Freeman isn't given enough to do, I think. But, other than that, my only complaint is that they keep pushing season 3 back and back and back.

There are good things for movie nerds on the horizon - but I undoubtedly will end up watching most of them on DVD rather than in a proper theater. Ah well.

I hope to make some progress on my prospectus over Christmas break and to get a few small things done around the house. I'm going to keep my goals small this time around. I will also try to write a little more often here so that cobwebs don't accumulate on my blog.

See this in 3-D? Yes, please.

I thought this was pretty great...

Teenagers 
by Pat Mora

One day they disappear
into their rooms.
Doors and lips shut
and we become strangers
in our own home.

  

I pace the hall, hear whispers,
a code I knew but can't remember,
mouthed by mouths I taught to speak.

Years later the door opens.
I see faces I once held,
open as sunflowers in my hands. I see
familiar skin now stretched on long bodies
that move past me
glowing almost like pearls.

What Happened At Our House After Church Today

First of all, don't worry. No injuries, no apparent structural damage to the house. We were in the kitchen eating lunch, listening to the wind bully its way against the house when there was a massive sound -- like thunder but lower, longer, and much closer. We rushed to the other side of the house and through Parker's windows we saw this:

We have asked our neighbors (it's their tree) repeatedly over the last four years to please, please, please cut down the obviously dead, precariously perched tree that stood right over our youngest child's bedroom. Every time we asked, they said something like, "Oh yeah, you bet. We'll get to it this weekend." For four years.

They abandoned their house three years ago. They moved somewhere else in the area and just never came back to the house. They mow the grass three or four times a summer so they don't get fined by the city, but otherwise, they don't do a thing to maintain their rotting house and property. We know for a fact they haven't paid their property taxes because it was in the paper. I doubt they're bad people -- they're probably just crushed under by poverty, underemployment, and a lack of education like so many others around here. But if they'd just come over with the chainsaws I know they have and spent an afternoon before now, I wouldn't have had to put a call into my insurance company and they wouldn't have to be sweating bullets about how they're going to make up for the damage done.

Ah well. Hopefully, it will all work out for the best. I know the real blessing is that no one was hurt -- but if we managed to get a new roof out of it, that would be nice too.

Does Anyone Else Find This Bizarre?

From yesterday's Writer's Almanac:

It's the birthday of convicted murderer and best-selling detective novelist Anne Perry, born Juliet Hulme in London (1938). She had tuberculosis, and her doctor said she wouldn't survive another winter in England, so she was sent away to live in the Bahamas, and then South Africa. She rejoined her family when she was 13, after her father -- a well-known physicist -- got a job as a president of a university in Christchurch, New Zealand. She became close friends with a classmate, Pauline Parker, who also struggled with health issues. When Juliet was confined to a sanatorium for several months, she exchanged daily letters with Pauline. They created an elaborate fantasy world together; they were both working on novels, which they were convinced were brilliant. They planned to run away to New York together, find publishers for their novels, and then make them into Hollywood movies -- they would be actresses and they would handpick famous actors to star in their films. 

Then Juliet's parents decided to leave the country and take their daughter to South Africa. The two girls were absolutely devastated and begged for Pauline to move to South Africa too. Juliet's parents thought the girls needed to be separated, but they said all right, as long as it was OK with the Parkers -- knowing full well they would never consent. Sure enough, Pauline Parker's mother refused. The teenage girls decided that Pauline's mother was the only thing ruining their lives, and that the only way to solve everything would be to kill her. So they did, inviting her to go on a walk in the park and then bashing her head with a brick tied in a stocking. When the girls returned to the teahouse where they had eaten lunch, they were covered in blood, and quickly arrested. Juliet was 15 years old, and Pauline 16.

The brutal murder shocked the country, and the two girls were given a high-profile trial. The prosecution read extracts of Pauline's diary, in which the girls coldly planned the murder. They were each sentenced to an indefinite prison sentence, and were released separately about five years later under the condition they never contact each other.

The girl who had been Juliet Hulme changed her name to Anne Perry. She converted to Mormonism, and settled in a remote Scottish village with her mother. In 1978, she published a murder mystery called The Cater Street Hangman, set in Victorian England. She expanded the book into a series, and then wrote another detective series. For decades, no one knew that Anne Perry and Juliet Hulme were one in the same. Then, in 1994, the Parker-Hulme murder case became the inspiration for the film Heavenly Creatures, starring Kate Winslet as Juliet. A reporter was writing a story about the film and discovered that not only was Juliet Hulme still alive, she was a best-selling, world-famous writer named Anne Perry. She writes for 12 hours a day, and she has written more than 50 novels, which have sold more than 25 million copies.

Perry said of her writing: "It is vital for me to go on exploring moral matters."

One of My Heroes

 Today is the birthday of puppeteer Jim Henson, born James Maury Henson in Greenville, Mississippi (1936). As a freshman, Henson was asked to create a short puppet show, Sam and Friends, for a local TV station. He brought along fellow classmate Jane Nebel, to work with him, and the two were soon married. With a total payout of $5 per show, Henson had to improvise with design and materials. One of his earliest characters was Kermit, fashioned from his mother's pale green coat and a bisected ping-pong ball. The show was quite popular and had a six-year run. 

During this time, Henson began pioneering new methods and materials that would let puppets express more emotion, fully embracing the television medium. His working group coined the term "Muppets," a combination of marionette and puppet. Foam rubber replaced the traditional carved wood, and it gave faces more feeling. Rods replaced the traditional marionette strings. Unlike previous puppets, the Muppets spoke precisely and in sync. 

In 1969, the Children's Television Workshop asked Henson to join a start-up show for public television called Sesame Street. Though intended to be just a minor part of the show, the Muppets' popularity led to timeless characters such as Oscar the Grouch, Bert and Ernie, and Big Bird. 

Jane Henson said of her husband: "What Jim saw was that the puppet was as powerful as a human being. And in fact is more powerful -- less concerned about what it looks like, more direct, more able to go to the heart of things."

Jim Henson said, "The most sophisticated people I know; inside they are all children."

Classic Dennis

Some shots of classic Dennis to commemorate the day we lost him. We miss you, you big baby.

Sunday Afternoon

We are having a rare moment of stillness here this afternoon. There's nowhere for us to go, nothing that absolutely must be done before tomorrow, no child in need, no crisis to avert. For now. So I'm taking a minute to write.

Our cat is gone. Early this week Charlie walked out the door in his usual aloof, lumbering fashion and then . . . just never came back. We don't know what's become of him. He's never been gone for more than twelve hours at a time, and he's certainly never missed a meal. We've looked on every roadside, put up fliers at the Casey's and the post office, called the pound, called pet rescue, asked our neighbors, wandered around in the dark with a flashlight investigating every dark corner of the yard where he liked to hide while calling his stupid name over and over again - to no avail. He's just gone. We figure he was either taken -- someone saw a big, good looking cat with no tags (our bad) and thought, "Hey, free cat" -- or a coyote got him. There's just no sign of him and it sucks. We've had him for almost as long as we've had Parker and, while he was aloof and bulimic and annoying as heck at times, it distresses me that he's gone. It distresses me more that I don't know where or why. If he had been hit by a car, at least I'd know what happened to him. If he'd turned up hurt after a fight with another animal, at least I'd know. Not knowing is lame.

In other news, I'm re-thinking my position on people's busy-ness. I've been pretty hard on and judgemental of other people and their claims of being "too busy" to do this or that. I'm not saying I've changed my mind entirely and that I don't think some people use it as a crutch. I am saying that maybe there are more legitimate cases of really being too busy than I thought. This semester is shaping up to be a Kraken-sized beast. It seems we are constantly hustling from one place to another, stuffing things in the girls' backpacks as we go. Moments to just sit and contemplate are few and far between. Last week, a colleague at work asked me to edit a document for a committee we share. I said yes and then, six hours later, wrote back and begged off because I realized that I simply would not have the time to do the job any kind of justice. I'm too busy. Crap. If there's one thing I hate about my own judgmental nature, it's how it comes back on me in poetic, ironic ways. Sigh.

Also, speaking of committees, the diversity team at my school (yes, we have a team for that) asked me to speak at a brown bag discussion this week about Mormonism. Some of you may remember that I did this three years ago and I was all freaked out about it. As I recall, it went okay back then - but back then, we didn't have a Mormon running for President or Brian Williams flashing pictures of people in their temple garments on national television. So I'm not sure how or even if this will be different than last time. If you would though, say a little prayer for me or meditate in my direction or light candles or whatever it is that you do this Wednesday morning at 10 - not so I'll convert thousands but so I won't make a total jackass out of myself in front of colleagues and students. Whether you are Mormon or not, dear reader, isn't Mark not looking like an idiot a cause we can all get behind?

Yesterday was Avery Jane's tenth birthday. It's hard to see the scrawny, rubber-legged little chicken of ten years ago in the tall, beautiful, sometimes smart mouthed ten year old that is reading this over my shoulder as I write. But that's okay. I love how tall and smart and fun and enthusiastic and capable she is and I wouldn't trade her for anything. (She is punching me in the back right now saying, "Erase it, Dad!" But I will not.)

Anyway, as part of her festivities, we went to see The Odd Life of Timothy Green at the theater. I had no interest in it as it looked like a sappy, not terribly well acted cheese-fest. Suzy was supposed to take the two older ones but, in the end, I got the job. I wasn't upset because, for me, a bad night at the movies is still better than a good day at work, you know? Anyhow, I was surprised to find the movie was directed by Peter Hedges who also wrote and directed Dan in Real Life and Pieces of April, two films I like quite a lot. Dan in Real Life, while idealized and sentimental in many ways, is a lovely, funny film with nuanced performances and a wonderful sense of generosity and love. Pieces of April, which I haven't seen in years, was quite touching in the way it addressed the rifts that can grow in families. Both films walk the line between sentiment and sentimentality, between emotion and manipulation, but both manage to stay on the right side of that line.

Timothy Green is not so lucky. There are some moments so contrived and affected that even the kids in the audience were rolling their eyes. A lot of it seemed artlessly engineered to convey "quirkiness" and designed to pull on something the people in marketing refer to as "heart strings." It's about a subject that is close to my heart which is a couple's inability to conceive a biological child. On the day they get the final word from their fertility specialist that it might be time for them to stop trying that way and to think of other ways to have a family, in an evening of despair, they spell out every trait they think their ideal child would have if only they were able to have one. They list everything off and then bury the list in a box in their garden as a way of saying goodbye to those particular dreams. Magic rain comes and up from the garden sprouts a ten year old boy with all the traits they hoped for. And he has leaves on ankles because he grows from the garden and so, is part plant apparently.

Whimsicality ensues.

On the one hand, because I'm easily moved when it comes to this subject, there were moments when I felt touched, when I felt the movie had struck on something honest about the desires and fears parents have - how badly you want a kid and then, when you get one (however you get one), how hard it is to be the kind of parent that you feel is worthy of the child you have.

But then, on the other hand, there are moments when Jennifer Garner, her husband, and Timothy Green perform an A Capella version of "Low Rider" in front of a bunch of judgmental, stiff squares who can't see how totally awesome and whimsical and magic they totally are!!!! It's bad, folks. Real bad.

At one point, Diane Wiest, who plays the crusty, stuffy dowager empress character usually reserved for Shirley Maclaine, actually says, "If this boy can have leaves on his legs, then we can make pencils from leaves!" The thing is, even if I were to explain the context of that quote, it still wouldn't make sense.

The film can't decide what it wants to be and there's so much stuffed into 104 minutes that none of it gets its due. It's part magical realism, part coming-of-age love story, part Norma Rae, part frame tale, part "my dad never loved me enough drama," part comedy, part melancholic mediation on childlessness, and so on. Characters are painted in strokes as broad as a four lane interstate and Timothy's magical perfection becomes too much crutch and not enough performance. Still, sucker that I am, the final shots of the couple (spoiler alert!) meeting and literally walking into the sunset with their newly adopted child got me in the heart. I may be able to recognize the movie isn't that good -- but I'm not a monster, people.

Some of Hedges' obsessions are present. He seriously  loves himself some fall colors, some turn of the century houses, crippled adult child/parent relationships, sweet perfect grandparent figures, acoustic music, and wise children leading hapless adults too wrapped up in themselves to clearly see the simplicity of the path in front of them. It definitely fits within his body of work - it's just not as good as the others.

One other thought before I stop talking about this movie that I never intended to see in the first place: for making her career playing a deadly, sexy super spy, Jennifer Garner generally reminds me of someone who would be the student body president at some ultra-wholesome high school. Her double-decker bus of a mouth is just too giant and toothy and her demeanor is just too cutesy-poo for me to ever take very seriously as an actress.

Anyway, it's about five in the afternoon now. I think everyone's post-church nap should probably come to an end. Otherwise, there will be no sleep in this house tonight, and we can't have that.

That's Cold, Man. Cold.

So the teachers in Chicago are on strike. I'm not sure what the details are but I know that Chicago has the third largest school system in the country. So it's a big deal. There's news coverage, speeches, negotiations, and, of course, protests. People are angry on both sides, I'm sure, and at least some of the anger is directed at Chicago mayor, Rahm Emmanuel. Like I said, I'm not sure what's going on, but I do know that the protesters have gotten pretty brutal. Behold:

Bwah! I laughed so hard when I saw this. I wonder if Nickelback (lame Candadian power-chord hair band) feels bad that liking them is considered a vile insult. Probably not - they probably get in their solid gold private jet and fly away from the criticism - but still, I think this is a riot. (ha ha.).

Hot and Humid

Just last night I was complaining to Suzy about the "No good TV shows" rash on my ankles.

Upcoming B-Day for P-Faye

Yep, it's that time of year again. In just a few days, it will be Rap Master P's birthday, and she will be three years old. It's kind of crazy because I don't really remember ever being younger than she is right now. It's as though she arrived as a loud, bossy three year old who loves Aladdin. I know that's not so - that she began as a tiny speck with a pacifier that took up most of her face when she sucked on it. But time has gone quickly and here we are with her saying things like, "I want Chinese too" and "Oh, come on, Dad!" I'm not sure when this happened. Anyway, here are three shots tracking Parker through time. As you can see, she really has changed over the last few years -- from sweet cherub to mischievous whirlwind. 

 

And We're Back

Yup, it's been a while since I was here. We were gone to Colorado, Utah, Idaho, and all parts between for two weeks - but, of course, a trip like that requires a week of hardcore preparation on one side and a week of headachey decompression on the other. So a month has passed and tomorrow is the first day of the fall semester at IVCC. Maryn and Avery started back at TGS on Friday. Somehow, hot and punishing as it was, the summer has slipped by and has seemingly headed out the back door without my noticing its exit. Weird. I'm always sort of surprised by fall -- like, "But summer can't be over yet - I mean, I'm not done yet."

Nevertheless, school is tomorrow. Suzy is teaching again this semester after dipping her toe into the pedagogical water this summer. She and I are each teaching a class out at our satellite campus in Ottawa on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. My class is at noon and Suzy's is at two and the campus is about twenty miles away, so it's going to be an odd set-up. A friend from the ward will watch Parker in Ottawa while we work. I'll teach while Suzy preps, then we'll eat lunch together, and then I'll grade and prep while Suzy teaches. When I write it like that, it sounds okay -- but the reality of it feels more rushed and chaotic. Driving to Ottawa three times a week, paying a sitter, rushing to make it back to be home when the older girls get home, etc. - it just kind of freaks me out. I like routine and simplicity. Throw an obstacle in my way and I'm like an ant from A Bug's Life - I panic and scream "I'm lost!" until someone shows me the way around the leaf that just fell across my path. Still I keep thinking that, even if it's miserable and totally inconvenient, it's just one semester and we can handle it for that period of time.

Anyway, our vacation was great. We got to do some fun things, see some pretty places, etc. Most importantly, we got to visit family and that is always the best part.

Highlights:

Seeing Moonrise Kingdom with the Piersons in Denver. Bizarre, wonderful movie and excellent company.

Logan, Utah. The scenery, the USU campus, the Creamery, the canyon, the art gallery, the Book Table, etc.

 La Tormenta with Kristen Perchon. Excellent, cheap, authentic Mexican food and such a good talk with my charming cousin.

 

Visiting Napoleon Dynamite sites in Preston, Idaho and actually meeting a King's employee who was in the movie.

My brothers and their families. Such much fun. I just really, really like each of my brothers and their wonderful wives and kids. I feel more myself, more my best self when I am around them. We had a big family dinner at the old, 30-foot table at Dave and Mel's and ate ribs and rolls and pickles and all the classics. We went to a water park. We ate at Big Jud's. We laughed a lot.

The Dark Knight Rises with the brothers. Enough said. (In fact, the less said about the popcorn incident and David's shameful treatment of the counter girl, the better.)

Our new niece, Amaya. So much beauty and sweetness in such a tiny, little package. We're glad she's here.

The nieces and nephews playing at the Climbing Mountain park. To see every Brown gathered at this park in Rigby, talking, and goofing around did my heart a lot of good. At one point, I was a bit away from everyone else (chasing Parker, I think) and I saw everyone in one big group and I thought, "Mom is so very happy right now." I was too.

Aunt Fay's house. Politics with Uncle Bob. Food from Aunt Fay. Teasing Karen and Kathie. Is there anything better?

Little America, Wyoming. Because it's like a time warp to 1956 in the middle of the desert. Toward the end of a long road trip, you appreciate a little surreality.

Anyway, we are back. Mountains and big family dinners will have to wait for a while. Freshmen and prospecti and cornfields need our attention. And blogs too. They need our attention as well. I'll try to be here more often.