My dad has been trying for years now to perfect his recipe for bubbles. We think he's finally got it down:
If you look closely, you can see reflections of people and trees in the bubbles. It's a little tough to see, but it's there, I promise. We're considering using a hula hoop dipped in a kiddie pool full of bubble solution to encase our children in individual bubbles. Wow, do the kids ever love it. My mom calls herself the "PopPop indicator" because as soon as the grandchildren (except for Lucy, who LOVES Grandma) see her, they get excited because they know PopPop won't be far. The bubbles are one of the many reasons why.
My Mom and I serve together in the Stake Relief Society presidency here in our corner of the world. We are in the midst of planning a huge 12-stake women's conference that we will host here in our area. We're talking 1200 sisters (I know, Utah people -- that doesn't seem like much, but many of those 1200 will have to drive 4 or 5 hours to get here!), plus a cadre of men who have also been invited to a training session for Relief Society leadership and stewardship. We've been mulling over what to do with the men after the training session is over. It is, after all, a women's conference, and we don't have enough room to accomodate the extra bodies.
"Don't worry," my dad said, just passing through on his way to the refrigerator. "I'll just take them all out to the parking lot and do bubbles."