Dear Kids,
       I love this: "You know you’re from West Valley City if . . . You’re sure that the border between Mexico and Tonga is 35th South." Paul had a link to it on Facebook this morning. Love it! So true! I think the border has moved south, though. It’s around 47th now.
       I’m packing up for the family reunion, and I’m very excited to see everybody, especially Monica and Big Jack. I’m only sorry Sharon’s family won’t be there. Hey, Share Bear, how’s the new piano? You’re going to love having a Clavinova. Both my Clavinovas from 1988 are still going strong (with a little help from Dad now and then.)
       Dad and I are totally part of the Kamas-Francis scene now because, would you believe, we’ve been signed up to sell tickets to the Frontier Days rodeo! We’re going to sit in an information booth and sell T-shirts and rodeo tickets, the Saturday before Labor Day. Could anything be more hoaky that that? A nice lady in church, Trisha Gerlach, signed us up. You kids who’ve lived in the cabin probably know her well. She’s a one-woman welcoming committee, besides Marianne Peck. Dad is starting to like the ward now, but he’s still a little freaked out when the other High Priests talk about their horses, their hay, their alfalfa, and their cows. Some of them even wear bolo ties, but Dad won’t wear one.
       Last Saturday afternoon I got to go up in a glider with John. It wasn’t the one he partly owns, because it only holds one person, and it wasn’t the really smooth one I went up in last fall, which didn’t cause me to heave at all. We had a great ride, over Wallsburg, the back of Timp, Brighton (I looked down on Sunshine, my favorite run) and back over Heber. It was a little bumpy, though, so I barked a lot, but I didn’t throw up, because I hadn’t eaten lunch. There’s nothing as thrilling as gliding. (They call it soaring, though.) Even if your stomach is lurching. Next time I’ll take dramamin, though. It’s always good insurance.
       Lots of love to everybody! Mom