The "Mini" Mission

Dear Uncle George, If you weren't dead and I was a better texter, I would pull a sort of Britney Spears and text you a note. And it would read something like this..."We need a break." I know the last time I wrote on this blog was in March.  It isn't because I don't love you.  It isn't because I needed a break then.  But I do now. I have been busy.  I hate it when people say that.  I hate it that everyone tells everyone else how busy they are.  Like a badge of honor.  "I am busy.  So busy.  So super busy.  Look at me.  My busy is so much busier than your busy that I barely have time to tell you how busy I am."  I hate it as an excuse.  But it is the truth.  And today, it is mine. And of course, since my Sea Monster is broken I can't tell you what I have been so busy doing.  You certainly could read all about why I don't know what I have been doing the last four months, but I don't remember which post it was.  But that said, I do re

Written by Uncle George:  May 4, 1907 Rose before 6:30 am.  Ice one quarter inch thick. Turned out a beautiful day.  Made a number of negatives. We made a view of casks, barrels, and wine cellar of Arthur Cambre, who left this property to Benedictine sister, who had the wine emptied out, twenty thousand gallons running down hill.  Dull and cloudy in the afternoon. Val:  May 4, 2013 Dear Uncle George, My fun tank regarding Nauvoo is full, as Dave says. Or my wine barrel as you wrote.  Either way, it is beyond full, actually. I am sick of rain. I am sick of being cold. I am sick of no internet.  I am sick of only eating eggs and toast (well, not really--but I added that in for dramatic effect).  I am sick of reruns of "Golden Girls" on the only station that comes in.  And I am lonely. You and I, we travel the same.  We go it alone.  We take our time, both on the road and at the sights.  You develop your glass plates when you find a place to do it and I download my im

Written by Uncle George:  May 3, 1907 Decided to go to Carthage with Elders Rassmussen and Ralphs.  Brother Charles took us over in a surrey. Cloudy and cold.  Visited the jail where the Prophet Joseph Smith and Patriarch Hyrum Smith were killed. Saw the hole in the door made by the bullet, the window from which the prophet jumped.  Such a cold, stormy day that we did not remain long.  It was after 9:00 pm when we reached Nauvoo and thankful to get shelter from the cold. Much of the time I had to hold an umbrella in front to keep the snow from our faces. We kept our spirits by singing the songs of Zion. Val:  May 3, 2013 "He talked fancy to me.  I got confused." ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ That, my dear Uncle George, is my answer to everything. Why I dress bad. Why I haven't showered in two days. Why I eat too many dark chocolate truffles. Why I drive the Mini too fast. Why I feel snarky about an employee at the KMart. Why I listen to hip hop, aff