Sunday, September 6, 2009


I'm thinking about Annie at the moment, while I wait for the potatoes to cook. I'm thinking about how she can make me laugh. Like when she was little and Libby was opening a Popsicle and Annie wanted some, so Libby said,"What's the magic word?" And Annie, crawling up on the counter top, paused and thought very seriously, then lifted her eyebrows with complete confidence as she chimed..."BIPPITY, BOPPITY, BOO!"

So now I'm thinking about her sitting with her little Primary kids in church, singing songs. It was someone's birthday, so they were singing one of the three Primary Birthday songs which have been in existence since before I was born...the one that goes like this (imagine the music, you Mormon-ites):

You've had a birthday shout hooray
We'd like to sing to you today
One year older and wiser too
Happy you!

Well right at the point where I put those three little dots, those little dots we all SO OVERUSE in our blog writing...right where those little dots are is where I taught our Primary kids to clap their hands on the downbeat...for emphasis. I think a Primary Chorister must have taught me that when I was little. So Annie is sitting there in her little Ward in Salt Lake City singing along with all the kids and grown-ups and where the singing the dots...she claps her hands. Of course no one else does.
So they all look at her like..."Hmmmm, we see you are really enthusiastic Sister Merrill!"
She looks around and turns red and smiles, then shrugs her shoulders.

Makes me laugh
Thanks for making me laugh Nanners!

Thursday, September 3, 2009


So I ended up with something like 73 points from my cleaning quest, earning myself ZERO rewards and no residual "self esteem" which no one can give us we just have to earn. Sheesh.
Turns out that the night I created my self imposed whip thrashing duty list one of my oldest and truest friends passed away. Unexpectedly. With no warning. It's thrown me for a loop. Two nights ago I had to listen to what I have so far on the album so I could decide how to best use my studio time and I drove around till 2 am. Ended up outside Lonnie and Ardene's house, looking into the sky above their home and sobbing. My kitchen counter is still covered with stuff. The peaches are weeping in their skins inside their half-bushel basket. Stacks of papers remain untouched.
And who cares.
Not me.
At least I pretend I don't.
I think it is sort of rude of the world to keep spinning. For papers to keep coming in the mail. For the phone to keep ringing. For our own bodies to want to eat and to sleep. Everything should stop, at least for a minute, pause out of respect if nothing else. Ardene Bullard is heaven bound and we are earth bound and none of us are the same. The world should stop, for a sec, don't you think?
So I'm feeling a little melencholy and a little alone. I'm focused on this Christmas Album II because I have to be if I want it to be out before Christmas.
Saturday night I did a benefit concert with my friends Nancy Hanson and Cherie Call. Cherie is doing a new album, too. She's starting this week and plans to have it for sale in October.
ARE YOU KIDDING ME? I said. Mind you I've been working on mine since last December. (The very day, in fact, that our Bishop called me to be Young Womens President.) So I knew from the get go there might be a little time conflict. Cherie has a producer. Scott Wiley, in fact. I have to talk myself out of being jealous.
In my way of thinking there are two kinds of time. There's REAL TIME, and there's EMOTIONAL TIME. I may have enough real time to do all sorts of things. But my emotional time and my actual time do not match up. Some things may only take five minutes of real time, but they are hours of emotional time.
My EMOTIONAL time is gone. I keep trying to make more, trying to get a little UMPH in my head and my body. But I'm having trouble finding it.
Making an album, for me, is a rather solitary thing. I miss Merlyn. I miss having someone as interested as I am in this thing that takes so much of my creativity, my intelligence, my energy and my interest. I miss having someone want to hear what I did in the studio today, to care that there's now live bass, or to help me decide if the vocal is good enough. It's OK. It's my choice to do this. But it is a rather risky thing to do and it gets a little lonely sometimes. So next time you hear a recording of a song, even on the elevator, try to figure out how many instruments and how many people are playing on that thing and how long it took collective minds (or solitary minds, in some cases) to create that 3 minute piece of entertainment.
Or, don't.
It really doesn't matter. We do what we do because we want to , or because someone we owe allegience to compels us to do it.
I am rambling. I'll quit.
It's time to go to the YW volleyball game anyway.