Annie's Zinnias

Thursday Annie, aka Kathryn Ann, aka the Swedish Meatball Fairy, aka the Costco fairy, aka the Costco Toilet Paper Measuring Queen, aka the honey butter lady, came bearing, among other things some gorgeous zinnias she had stripped from her garden.  Note the bottom picture in which a new zinnia is growing out of the dying zinnia on the bottom.  Who knew of such zinnias until Annie brought one to show me?  And, oh yes, she said Costco had big containers of gorgeous fall mums and they were either copper colored or yellow and she thought yellow was for spring and that brown was for fall and therefore she brought the big huge container of gorgeous fall mums and somehow wrestled it up to the front porch and said something like there it is.

But the zinnias were not all.  The Costco fairy, for the third time in the past summer, came laden with all manner of necessities, luxuries, goodies, produce, and good cheer.  Most important, she told me I was looking better?  How can I look better?  I must have looked awful before, but I was glad for the encouragement.  Having taken her morning to check out stuff at Costco and Allred Orchards and who knows what else, besides harvesting her garden, we were the recipients of a veritable cornucopia of wonderful and necessary stuff.  From her garden, besides zinnias, we received a beautiful big fat green cabbage, lovely tomatoes, a monster zuke, summer squash, and who knows what else.  From Allred's Orchards, we received two gallons of incomparable apple juice and some lovely, lovely early Elberta peaches.  And then the usual harvest from Costco.  Since Costco inconsiderately and incompetently was out of honey butter, Annie donated one of her own from her stash of honey butter.  

Earlier in the summer when I complained that Costco was stiffing its customers on the width of toilet paper, advertising it as bigger and stronger, we suckered into that only to find their wonderful tp was about a half inch narrower.  So Annie, the Costco Toilet Paper Queen, takes a measuring tape to measure it and forthwith Costco will never deceive us again.  Of course, TP is the number one seller at Costco, in case you didn't know, so when you see those big Costco semis roaming the land you can be comforted in the knowledge that they are hauling toilet paper hither thither and yon, trying to convince you that Charmin is bigger, stronger, but not necessarily wider.  So along with butter, OJ, a rotisserie chicken which can be stretched into 7 or 8 meals by the time you cook the bones with noodles and extract the last bit of chicken flesh from the bony carcass, and oh yes, an urgent phone call from Costco in Orem, "Do you want a pumpkin pie?"  Did the sun come up this morning?  So upon arrival and unburdening the contents of her shopping bags, she comes up with an aerosol can of pure whipped cream.  She deemed that Costco pumpkin pie was certainly worthy of more than mere Cool Whip. Perfect.  And then she was laden with Ikea Swedish meatballs and Lingonberry sauce which she claims are really, really good although don't buy the cinnamon rolls since they may have been baked in Sweden months ago and taste like cardboard.  After two nights, the pumpkin pie, alas is half gone and I know not what I will do when it is finished.

So then we visited for awhile and discussed Judy's book, Liz, Louise, and Steve, the only four who weren't here.  I learned nothing new since everyone apparently is holding in the good stuff and not divulging anything at the present time.

And then, unfortunately it was time for Annie to leave.  And I thought, "What have I done to deserve such generosity and kindness?"  And my answer was, "Nothing."  I did nothing to deserve all of this bounty. And therein lies the goodness of a Good Samaritan.  Good Samaritans do good (irr)regardless of the worthiness or lack thereof of the recipient.  So Annie, bearing her own bushel of pains and woes, took another day and spent hours rounding up stuff and driving to Salt Lake, and arrived with a smile and encouraging words and I thought,  why did I tease you so much, Annie, when you were a precious little child?  But then Judy intimates rather strongly that Ann and Steve weren't all that pure and well behaved as little children anyway.  My sisters and brother have been so kind to me, and I feel so blessed to be the recipient of their caring, love, concern, and acts of kindness.  

Maybe we can gather once more around the Christmas tree on Christmas eve in the living room of the white Penrose house and decorate Mother's last minute bargain Christmas tree with tons of tinsel and turn on the colored lights and write a letter to Santa Claus and hang up our stockings already knowing a rare orange will appear in it tomorrow and for the moment feeling nothing but joy and hopefulness and being spared the knowledge of the future and all of the challenges and journeys and trials and blessings and long, long roads we would travel.  And then 60 or 70 years later, here is my little sister on my doorstep, ringing my doorbell, with a carload of wonderful things.  Oh dear, dear Annie, I feel so sorry for you that you don't have a new bread machine but I will willingly give you my Ronco Rotissserie in case Judy's has fallen to the floor.  But how glad I am to see you and how thankful Velna and I are for your caring.  Please go scold your hens and tell them to behave and start laying or they will land in the dumpling pot.  With love, from your brother Dwight.