Sunday, June 29, 2008

Letters to Mr. Nielson: Smores on the Beesely farm.

Dear Mr. Nielson,

Yesterday you left on a jet plane back to the 115-degree weather
leaving our monkeys and me in Utah.
 How are you doing alone?
I'm assured you found everything in order back at the Lazona Estate? 
 I scrubbed that house from top to bottom before 
I left so when you got home, you would be as comfortable 
and happy as possible- especially since you'll be alone.
(Even though I know it's impossible to be happy without me. Wink.)

This evening after a hefty day of shopping with my mom and Lucy,
 (not much loot, just a lot of walking. Lucy needs to find the perfect dress
 to match her beautiful sapphire necklace that Andrew 
made, which costs more than our house and car.)
Lucy invited me down for some good old-fashioned smores.
Andrew was excited to show me his concord grape vineyard and the
rows and rows of beets, romaine, cabbage, squash, pumpkins, onions, corn, and potatoes.
 It was a vegetarian's dream come true. It is a beautiful garden.
But he was most excited to show me his beehive where he is raising honeybees.
More than 50,000 bees are nestled inside the hive, 
which will make over 60 pounds of honey. It's remarkable.
Andrew carefully lifted the hive open for me to glance at the busy little guys.
A few bees made their way up near us, and then I noticed they started 
landing on Andrew's shirt, then his shorts, then arms, and pretty soon, 
the bees were spewing out of the hive and all over both of us.
I may have said a bad word when Andrew got stung on his leg.
I said a bad word when a bee crawled up
 my pant leg and stung my thigh.

Then the children helped Andrew gather firewood for a nice little fire 
in the back of the orchard, where we made smores accompanied by Root Beer.
 It was a very wonderful evening, even if I was stung by a bee.

If you are wondering where your son Gigs was during the evening,
well, grandpa wouldn't let him out of his sight. 
He stayed home with grandpa, where they took Nan for a walk, 
got an ice cream cone at McDonald's, and even went for a ride in Mom's convertible.
I must admit, I am tired today. My legs are still a little sore from the Ragnar.
And, of course, I don't sleep well without you.
I miss you, and I LOVE YOU!
Yours, truly, madly, deeply,

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