Dear Kids,
We’re looking forward to our Super Sunday get-together at John’s house this afternoon at 4 pm. John has a new hot tub that’s filled up and warmed up and ready-to-go, and he says sitting in the hot tub isn’t breaking the Sabbath, because it’s relaxing. Whatever. He says any of you who want to can bring your swimsuits and try it out. Otherwise, it will be a lot of good food and good fun, like always. I really enjoy these Sundays at you kids’ houses. Actually, I enjoy every Sunday, when it comes to that.
Friday afternoon I went to the Heber airport with Dad to watch John launch his glider. It was fun like always. I learned how to drive a golf cart, which is pretty easy. John didn’t have a very long flight because a cold front came through and totally killed the updrafts, so he came down after about an hour. One thing was kind of a downer–there’s a little office with a refrigerator in the hanger where we hang out. I just always have the habit of looking in refrigerators and freezers–you know, there might be a box of frozen ding dongs or something. I saw there was a box in the freezer, and it looked like a bakery box, like maybe somebody’s birthday cake was in it. So I lifted the lid, and there was a dead cat inside. Poor kitty. Nobody knew anything about it, but they said that Tom, the man in charge of the hanger, had been feeding a stray cat there. Looks like it came to an untimely end. I hope it enjoys a good burial, whenever that happens. Hopefully sooner rather than later, so nobody else is freaked out like I was.
Our cabin projects have almost come to a halt, but I’m still hoping to finish re-doing the fire pit. We needed one more load of road base, so we decided to try out the Francis Pit, which is close by, on the way to the cabin. We drove in the entrance, and nobody was around. Finally we came across one guy driving a caterpillar. He was moving sand from one spot to another, and the scoop on his cat was bigger than our truck. Dad stopped him and told him we wanted a yard of road base, so he dumped it in, and the truck sank way down on its axles. But we knew the truck could handle it. Dad asked where we should pay for it, and he just waved us away. So we took it to the cabin and shoveled it in around the pit. Now we’re ready to compact it, if we can borrow the compactor from Donna’s office.
I’m going to have the pinkie on my right foot amputated, just like on my left foot. It has exactly the same problem. If they leave me a stub, my feet will match. And then I can wear my ordinary shoes again, and not just my big clompers.
Life is good! Lots of love, Mom
