Picture-Wrapped Christmas

It being Christmas time and all, I thought of this random poem I once wrote (in a random September), here. I came to write a post and that's the first thing that came to mind. So, anyway.....

I had a super Christmas time. It was great fun seeing my siblings open the gifts I gave them. I got a sweet blender from my brother. I wasn't expecting that and was totally pleased! I'm very spoiled! But to keep as much of me as I can from really spoiling and going to waste, I share and help and serve.

I had some great experiences that made me feel some of that good ol' Christmas spirit. I went to St. George and was praying to my Father in Heaven if He would be mindful of me and help me have what is often called "a missionary experience" by those of my faith. Well, it totally worked, and I was so grateful for an answered proactive prayer.


I also saw Aurore Mathieu, a full time sister missionary in the Utah Provo mission, that I had met in France. Indeed, we had served together, I as a full-time sister, and she as a mini missionary, when I was in Nimes. Also, I started and finished my mission in the same city, where she lived and went to school. So we got to see a lot of each other when I was in France. Then she was called to Provo! Her sister let me know, via facebook, that she was in St. George (I had no idea!) and I went and saw her. Boy was she surprised! It was awesome.


It has snowed like crazy here in Utah! It really isn't surprising. But that always helps the season feel more just right. Also, one particularly poopy-mood day, I went to my FHE (family home evening) activity, and it was making gingerbread houses. I think it was my parents' looming divorce that just made me feeling bleh. Well, I started constructing, and I had the idea to make a gingerbread bridge. The others made train cars (one in honor of school buses). It was fun. During the process, it felt as though my troubles washed right under. Friends and fun can just help us remember good things more than the bad.




A couple weeks before Christmas, my roommate Heather enlisted us in a sub for Santa activity for a family of one of the girls in her first grade class. We collected money, presents, a tree, and lots of food, and made the tree practically edible. I made popcorn balls and also red (watermelon) and green (lime) popcorn that we strung together, and there were gingerbread cookies and oranges for ornaments. We wrapped most of the items, then filled three baskets with toys, one basket for each girl. The time came to deliver and the family was greatly surprised and very happy to have a tree that they wouldn't have had otherwise.






I also made popcorn for a bunch of people who bought it from me the week before Christmas. With the money I made I was able to purchase all my family's presents. It worked out really well. I love popcorn!


It was fun to have my nephew come over and open gifts with his mommy. He mostly climbed on the presents while mom "helped" him open them. He was so excited by each one, repeatedly getting distracted from one glance to the next. I gave him a book in the shape of a school bus (which he loves--and I never mentioned that sometimes I would stop by his house in my big school bus. He loved that. So he squealed when he saw the book and started driving it around, not realizing it was also a book). He's so cute. I guess all that fun made him tired, too!

Dozing

Somewhere between wanting nothing more than to punch something
And wanting nothing
I went to the gym.
I pedaled hard.

Done already.

Auto pilot drove me home.
Sweet parking spot.

Lucky for me everyone knows I love them
For moments when I bulldoze
Auto pilot, no pilot,
uncaring.

The shower head spouts from the wall below my head.
Hot water.
My Body.
Is steaming.

Bored.
I rest my elbow on the shower ledge.
I Prop my chin in my hand.
The water traces my back, my calves,
Swirling at my ankles.

I don't know why
I don't care.

Lucky for me sleep washes
Away my don't cares.

A bulldozer will flatten
Weeds for a little while.

The world is not a snow globe.

On mornings of snow like this,
I imagine the world has frosted over.
It's not safe to drive a world that He can't see through the atmosphere.
Like from a great big school bus windshield he scrapes the frost away.
The shavings drift down to frost our cheeks with kisses that whisper
He is looking on and He loves us.
Don't forget me,
He reminds
As the flake melts away.

I'm Procrastinating Again.

It's not like I'm out of ideas or that my novel is at a point where I'm stuck. . .I actually just stopped typing mid-dialogue. I hope my characters don't sense my disinterest for the moment. I'm just tired of thinking so much about them, so I want to think of myself. Me. Moi.

I participated in a self defense class this morning and my hand hurts. We were locating "control points" and I may have pressed too hard on the one in my hand. You know, that meaty part between the pointer finger and the thumb. My hand hurts. Ma main me fait mal.

I parted my hair on the unusual side yesterday and today. I don't particularly like it. Nobody noticed. But I wouldn't expect them to. Personne n'a remarqué.

I found a bunch of heart-shaped leaves after my morning run and thought I should collect some and sprinkle them upon someone I love. So I did. I put them on his car with a note that said "I (heart leaf) Devin" on it under the windshield wiper. It made me happy. Ça m'a rendu heureuse.

I find it interesting that like and love get mixed up in meaning. I love my guy friends but I can't love one guy friend in particular until I've liked him long enough to know him enough to love him. For example, I can say "I love Kevin," because he's just a friend. But I can't say, "I love Ken," because I like him...more than a friend. I can only say stuff like "Ken is a great guy," because if I said "I love Ken," then I'd feel weird, because I like him. Does it make sense? Est-ce que ça a de sense?

I will not watch the Twilight movie. Je ne regarderai pas le film Twilight.

I don't have a boyfriend anymore. We broke up October 1st. It sucked at first and sometimes I got reeeeally bored and lonely. And now I'm fine, but I still get really bored. I become slightly curious when weekend after empty weekend comes and goes. I'm afraid I put off a "don't touch me" sort of vibe somehow. Well, I'm not an extremely touchy person myself (until I am dating someone) so maybe that is interpreted as me being someone that doesn't want to be touched. But really I'm just a devoted kind of gal, so I don't go prostituting back scratches etc. for just anyone. Maybe-- no, no maybe. I suck at flirting, that's for sure. c'est sûr.
And I'm tall. I'm pretty convinced some guys are stunned by that. Every time they're near enough to size themselves up, their minds blank and they just sort of walk away. Not my fault how tall I am. Besides, I love it. I guess it just weeds out the insecure. So if I were to answer the question that's actually been posed many times recently, "Why aren't you out on some hot date?" I really don't know. Je ne sais vraiment pas.

My nose has the hiccups. It twitches as though it itches to make me join a brood of witches. And it seems fitting since I'm transmitting a story about witches for my novel. And see, it comes again to the novel that I'm neglecting. I'm bored. Je m'ennuie.

(This post contains 555 words, not including this line, that will not go into my novel.)

There are times, now and again, when a really nasty batch of Macaroni and Cheese comes along. We've all experienced it.

I was at my parents' house (soon it will probably be called just "Mom's house"...),killing time before 11:00 when I'd give Gabi (a girl in my ward) a ride to the bus. I printed off my homework, played the piano, made some popcorn. As I was popping the corn, I had the urge to make some cheese popcorn, because all I've been making is sweet.

I looked high and low for the cheese powder I swear we had once bought. What I did find was a box of mac&cheese that, since I hadn't had any in a really long time, interested me. It was in the pantry. This cupboard, though right in the kitchen, is a completely neglected host of perishing items.

First ignored clue: the box of mac&cheese was in the dark back of the pantry shelf, behind opened cake mix boxes and last (or even earlier) Christmas cookie kits (the kind well-intentioned creative people give in cutesy fabric bags with poems attached). Second ignored clue: the top of the box had a layer of dust that neither blew nor wiped away.

Finally, 11:00 came and I drove Gabi to her bus stop, the aforementioned box tossed in the back seat. I got home and showered and stuff before I decided I wanted to make the mac&cheese today for lunch. I let the noodles cook too long since I was doing my hair. I hate when the noodles are mushy. I dumped them in a strainer and searched for butter and milk. First ignored divine intervention alert: there was no butter. Second: no milk.

First smart idea: I said to myself, during my fruitless search, "Oh, I should just eat my Papa John's left overs."

First and second unsmart ideas: I put a tablespoon of oil in the pot. Then I used a milk box (like a juice box, but filled with milk. . .well, vanilla-flavored rice milk), to act as the needed milk. Come on, my other choices were apple juice or water. Yuck.

I put my nose near to the rip in the little foil cheese bag, but sensed nothing with my half-sniff. I dumped it on the sweaty noodles and stirred. Then it came. First undesirable sense: the smell of rancid powdered milk. Second: the threatening gag reflex.

It's just sitting in that pot until it's cold enough to throw in the trash. I thank God for Papa John's. I literally do.

Fortunate Times

There's always something to look forward to when you choose Asian cuisine for lunch. It's especially true at one of my favorite restaurants in Provo, Saigon Cafe. I went there after a successful finish to a school presentation. I was able to get my car's safety passed across the street as I ate. It really was a wonderful afternoon. The restaurant just added to the joy.

Without fail (I lied, one time they forgot), the meal starts with this amazing appetizer of fried won-ton skins for dipping in this mystery sauce that makes my tongue dance. I've wondered if there's addictive substances in it, it's that good. I've tried to guess what it could be: maraschino cherry juice and bits mixed with pineapple juice and bits. . .and something else. Lemon or orange? It's so good.

The $5 plate comes with a small cup of soup. I always choose hot and sour over the egg drop. Both are good, but the hot and sour is everything your tongue could dream of. To mine at least. Even the spoon is fun, all long and shallow, like a little shoe with a handle.

The plate comes out with two days worth of meat/whatever you ordered, ham fried rice and an egg roll complete with dipping sauce. General Tso's chicken is a long time favorite. Each bite is, how can I say? Like making every green light.

And of course the fortune cookie comes at the end. I always break it in half, pull one half from the other so the fortune sticks out of the end I don't eat. I eat the paper-free half before I read my fortune. I'm always amazed at the taste of those cookies. No two are the same. Seriously. Anyway, this time around it was kinda gross, so I didn't eat the other half. My fortune said, "You discover treasures where others see nothing unusual," which is fortunately true.

After a few glasses of water, I needed to use their restroom; I needed a rest.... It smelled remarkably like baking cake. That was intriguing. When I went to wash my hands, the soap dispenser had two options: soap, or jabón. I'd never tried jabón before. It lathered a lot like soap...

The check came to only $9.56 (I'd ordered the daily special that made my $5 plate only $3.95). Robbery. We left thirteen dollars, all in ones I believe. The bird toothpick dispenser bid us farewell as we grabbed a complimentary mint and shuffled belly first across the street to my waiting, safe automobile.

Love

Love comes...when you think more about the other person than about his or her reactions to you.
When you dare reveal yourself fully.
When you dare to be vulnerable. -Dr. Joyce Brothers

The love we give away is the only love we keep. -Elbert Hubbard

Love is composed of a single soul inhabiting two bodies. -Aristotle

Love does not consist of gazing at each other, but in looking together in the same direction. -Antoine de Saint-Exupery

There is no remedy for love but to love more. -Henry David Thoreau

Real love stories never have endings. -Richard Bach

It's Final

So this evening I joined an experiment, much to my personal shame. My friend sent me a forward text. So pitiful. E-mails are bad enough, but text forwards? Well you know, to prove that I know it's worthless, this time I did it. It said:

Sh00t this arrow------> to 13 hearts you truly care about (i better get 1 bak:) and in 13 mins u will have a suprise! :)

Oh, well I realize now that, though I did care about each heart I shot it at, I had the intention of sending it to those who would either take it seriously or know I was kidding and/or bored. Whatever, it still didn't work. Thirteen minutes later I received a text message from one of the recipients saying "Surprise, it's thirteen minutes later!" And a brief moment later a guy came to the door inviting me to go play Ultimate Frisbee. I replied, "I'm sorry, I'm waiting on a surprise." No, I didn't really. I said I needed to go to bed. Which I will eventually. What did surprise me is how fast you can waste thirteen minutes.

Moments When

You see farther than thoughts can reach.

You stand taller than you measure.

You smell the past like you could touch it.

Tears create a map and wash your footprints away.

Confidence pumps your heart floats away.

Your lips Tango.

Falling accompanies no impact.

You awake before the world starts spinning again.

You hear everything like pieces of a puzzle.

You feel deeper than words have traveled before.

. . .

Quirk Tag, I'm it.

Okay, the only reason I'm doing this is because of the person who sent it to me. She's wonderful and makes me feel happy about my quirkiness though she may not even know what that consists of. She's just one of those people that makes you feel normal and loved, no matter how strange you might be.

The game:
1.Link to the person who tagged you
2.Mention the rules on your blog
3.Tell 6 unspectacular quirks about you
4.Tag 6 following bloggers by linking to them
5.Leave a comment on each of the tagged blogger's blogs letting them know they've been tagged.

Well, it shouldn't be too hard for me to find unspectacular quirks since I dare classify myself as a writer...or in other words, an artist of words. ;)

1. I have a quirk for straightening things. Victims: The pillows on the couches at my parents house (and those are also organized so as to distribute the patterns and colors equally); Any slanted framed item, be it in my home, the dentist's office, etc.; Bed spreads, couches, chairs, mats, papers, dishes in the dishwasher or items in the refrigerator even; you know, any inanimate thing really.

2. I'm unspectacularly obsessed about my eyebrows. I suppose it kind of branches from the straightening quirk. I pretty much can't stand it if they aren't perfectly in place. Once upon a time I even combed clear mascara into them to keep them from moving. So don't even think about touching them, btw.

3. I eat in an interesting fashion...at least according to my mission companions (several of which were foreigners). So, first of all, serving in France, they eat one food at a time. In the U.S. we eat Thanksgiving style every meal: the whole meal on one plate. So I don't know if it's really all that particular to me, but I taste all the foods that are on my plate and figure out which one I like best and eat it last. It ends up being a sort of prioritized wheel of fortune experience. I don't often physically turn my plate, but I'll eat a little salad, then a little lasagna with bread, then the veggies, then I'll finish off the veggies, then the salad and end with the bread. If there's bread that will usually be my favorite and last bite. It was well demonstrated by lunch with Ben on Saturday, actually. I had a gourmet turkey sandwich and an Australian orange. :) I took a bite of my sandwich, which was really great, so I moved on to taste the orange. As Ben finished his first sandwich, I finished peeling my orange. It tasted great too, so I alternated, rather equally, bites of sandwich and orange til my plate held only napkin, peels and crumbs.

4. I can't fall asleep without a blanket. Except twice so far. Both times I was stinkin exhausted and it was perfectly warm.

5. Wow I'm really struggling now. Well, something I haven't seen anyone else do is roll their tongue upside down. Pretty much everyone can roll it up but I can do it the other way. Ask me, I'll show you. Then you'll try and I'll be impressed if you can, too. Yes, that means I'm a great kisser. ;)

6. Okay last one....I used a life line for this one. My friend Graham has some observations of when I'm thinking. He says if someone is describing something or if I'm reading I apparently curl in my bottom lip. I squint at things when I think. Or I tap my cheek with my index finger. And when I'm all done looking at something I'll let out a sigh. Observant fellow, eh? I didn't realize I did any of that! But as if to prove it all, I was squinting as I pondered if it were truth.

Well there. And I'm not going to obey the rules and link other people to do this, because I'm a big fan of not passing on forwards. No offense intended, Barb. But all comments are welcome.

Can't Sleep

My dear roommate warmed me some milk and Billy Joel serenades me with his lullaby, so hopefully that sandman's not too far away.

I was talking with a friend and out came a quotable line:

The heart: it's a curious instrument. It can change as fast as it beats.

Later as I lie in bed, someone was playing music far enough away that I only heard the low beat and I imagined it was the heart beat of my nearly-life-size stuffed alligator so it wouldn't annoy me.

Depending on the beat, the instrument will reveal a melody that sometimes the mind couldn't hear. The composition is complicated for a single instrument and one wonders how the heart survives itself.

My own heart suspended in my chest beat like it usually does, pumping blood, for which I'm grateful. It too summoned a distant tune and I felt like humming.

The melody leaks into the stream where drifts my life. It bleeds through my voice; a wound that will hopefully never heal.

I want to hear your heart beating in your chest. I will see if our voices harmonize.

Some people have such beautiful circulation.

To The Men

from the ponderings of a single woman's mind.



Is there a(n un)spoken rule of dibs? If two guys see a girl at the same time and guy A says "dang, I wanna get with that," ever so respectfully, but when the girl meets both guy A and guy B, she is more attracted to guy B, but must guy B yield to guy A to make his move? If so, why?

How long does it take for you to fall in love?

If you're dating a great girl, would you ever risk that security if you found another girl attractive (not just physically) to give her a chance? Isn't it a bad sign if you're even looking around to notice her?

If you don't like a girl, or spending time with her, or frankly you just don't see a future, but she's showing interest, flirting, what have you, will you (please) just tell her you're not interested?

At what point can she fart in your presence without grossing you out?

Do you agree with the general desire that the girl wants to be with a guy that weighs more than her potential weight at pregnancy?

How tall is too tall?

Do you care about the shoes we wear? Are there ones preferred over others?

What communication problems? Let's hear 'em.


Your masculine thoughts are very much appreciated. Ask your friends. Return and report.

Did you hear the one about....

Ode to Spectacles

Due to the impending surgery of tomorrow, my glasses will be of no use in less than 24 hours. These glasses and I have been together for a long time. Sure, I've messed around a little with contacts, but still glasses and I have had a forgiving and lasting relationship. In honor of these memories, I make up a poem for glasses. And it's my 100th post. Neat.

Before you, my life was incomplete.
Looking ahead was a painful feat.
When you came into my life
It was as if a big knife
Cut through the air
And removed the glare
Of what seemed like two hands made of wax paper held always before my eyes.

You did something to me.
I mean, besides help me see.
It's like you made everything clear
Like I could finally hear
As if I'd been deaf before.
Or as though you opened a door
Where there had only been a wall as far as eye could see.

I remember when I left you on the bed.
Thinking for sure you were elsewhere instead
I rolled over and heard you cry.
When I held you up, all was awry.
Gently, tightly, I bent your frame
back to normal; but you were never the same.
But later we were able to look back and laugh at the experience that night.

There was nothing between us;
I was me, you were you: we've been us
since every day we've been together.
Over hills, under roofs and into weather
we always got along. In fact,
Even your disappearing act
Would make me laugh for the irony of seeking that which I can't see so I can see.

As I say goodbye it's like...like
hard, I guess. Sometimes I think, 'yike
s' because now what will I do
When I'm nervous and need to
Nudge you into place
On the nose on my face
As I think of what to say to whomever awaits my reply.

Friend, window to the world;
Now an oyster unpearled.
I will not forget you fast.
After all, we have a past.
But my days as caterpillar are through
As flying above I will have a view
More like that of a butterfly's, in the sky, twice as high as a caterpillar's.

Dangling Modifiers

In my English editing class we had an assignment to create ten sentences each featuring a dangling modifier. What is that? Well, I can't really tell you in words of definition. I like to show. Here were some great ones. You'll see what it is.

I saw my brother being born sitting in the chair.
Marinated in the finest seasonings, people enjoy themselves.
Having been dropped from a ten story building, Sean examined the egg for any damages.
Fred explained why he wanted to get married to his aunt.
After being decapitated, Fred began to prepare the chicken for dinner.
Jack waited for his parents to go inside to light the fireworks.
Squished by 80 MPH speeds, Tod flicked the bug's body off of the windshield.
Upon walking into the room, the ancient mummy caught the archeologist's eye.

and from my own list:
He punched me with his fist in my eye.
I walked the dog in a bear costume.
Luke fixed the clock with no hands.

Do you see the beauty of this language? :)

heartburn

to the third degree

Our Parents

I hope you don't think that's too graphic, the blueberry world bursting from a belly beneath big bosoms. It's relevant....keep going....

With the official passing of summer I've been feeling mysteriously... close to the moon - er, poetic, actually. And that might be enough, but today's date is also 9/23. So of course in my bizarre, unexplainable attachment to this number, I post. And it will be poetic. We hope.




Time and Earth

He was there, as always, and growing lonely
So he took a couple of years from his side and made her.
After that they two were made one, never apart.
He aged every moment and yet never changed.
He went on.
She swirled at his touch.
He went on and she spun.
She spun and he went and went.
From seeds, together they created life.
She was the apple blossom, he was the rotting apple.
Weaving
Always together and never apart.
She only gave. Gave, and recycled to give again.
He went on, ever unforgiving, never looking back.
She would stir from within and take back.
He left the apple there; she swallowed it to her bosom.
She would always heal; life went on only with him.
Advancing
He aged and went on unchanging.
And sometimes he felt forgotten, unnoticed.
-My children don't appreciate me, said he.
I am always with them and complain only do they.
'Too fast, too slow.'
I take forever to arrive, say they, but I know forever,
which is why I take it.
She weaves a new gown.
He threads into her what with he'd be remembered.
Skeletons prove he was there.
Layers reveal her timely beauty.
Collections hint to his unimaginable age.
She would change gowns.
He loved to watch.
On her ice he would skate and never fall.
When it melted he would swim and never drown.
When it cycled again from heaven he would never thirst.
-My children don't appreciate me, said she.
On me blame they the bad; to them goes the good.
If I stop the bad I must stop entirely and then
where would they be?
It's where they're headed, taking all the good.
And she changed to blossoms.
-I go on, said he.
-I grow weary, said she. If but for a moment
Your hand released mine, how rested I'd be!
He went on, he looked on,
-Not much further, said he.
He held her hand in his as the last marble.
The last time.
She again changed her gown.
The leaves fell from the shivering branch.
The children piled them
The wind blew them away.
Her tears welled in puddles; how she hates to pause.
The children put on their boots
And splashed the pools away.
Never a wasted drop, she swallows them back to her bosom.
He ties his laces, he can't wait
nor stop, nor arrive, nor leave.
Does she spin as he stands still?
He went on and she swirled at his touch.

dug up

A couple posts ago I mentioned a draft I hadn't posted yet. I was reading it and selected just a paragraph that I thought was okay and am going to post it now. It doesn't apply anymore, but since I dug it up, I'll lay it down.


He roller skated into my heart and knocked me right over. Right in front of me and I couldn't see it coming. Looking up at him he offers to help me up but I can't touch him. Suddenly my skin is heart deep and if he touched me I'm afraid he'd know what I feel but not feel the same. He can't drop me if I never let him help me up.

Things I'm Learning from School

It's not a money crisis. It's a confidence issue. The U.S. is pretty rich, excepting the $8.9 trillion debt, and if we go into panic mode, THEN there will be serious problems. Stay cool everybody. Of course there's nothing we can do when CEOs are greedy, short-minded idiots and cause a company to fail. But we can put a little faith in the federal government organization and not crash.

We're not [necessarily] blessed because we have more. If we have more than another country, it's because we've taken more than our share. [The problems this causes elsewhere] isn't a God problem, it's a human problem, and it requires a human solution. -roughly quoted from Laura Hamblin, Prof. at UVU, Orem, UT.

If you think you can't contribute to world economy/peace/order, try micro loans. I saw a site called Kiva. check it out. Your measly $25 could be the difference between success and failure in a foreign entrepreneur's life.

Language is just math, with letters. Everything really is just math.

Taking a class with a boyfriend is fun.

I'm sure there are hundreds of carpooling possibilities that we all miss out on because we don't speak to one another.

Life needs to be learned.

The End

Truly, if I knew that the world was ending at approximately tomorrow afternoon here's what I'd (not) do:
Not study for my tests that I wouldn't take.
Chew all that gum just sitting there (waiting for my current pack to be emptied half-piece after torn half-piece) chewing whole pieces, many at a time, bubble blowing til my jaw hurt.
Call as many long distance phone numbers as possible to talk with dear friends seven hours ahead so as to not waste any night hours whatsoever.
Take a shower; a long luxurious one.
Wear my red high heels.
Ride in a taxi. Anywhere.
Maybe I'd just take my boyfriend to Vegas and marry him. (He wouldn't be interested in gambling that night. Or else.) I'm not too huge on sinning, so yeah, I'd make the effort. After all, there are things worse than a would-be death tomorrow.
Last meal: Papa John's. (Definitely wouldn't be starting that "Flat Belly Diet" book)
Surely I'd cook something. Ah yes, the chocolate covered peanut butter rice krispie ice cream bars idea I had. That for sure.
I'd go somewhere really dark at night (far from the lights of the Strip) and watch the stars. It's true, they don't do much for needing watching, but if it was nearly the end of our spot in the universe as we view it, there could be a great show. If not, husband, pizza, ice cream, gum bubbles and star ceilings never were a bad mix.
I'd break as much stuff as made me feel indestructible. Especially my cell phone. Well, just before the end.
Then I'd sit down and listen to my favorite classical music as the world melted like a plastic cup in the fire so I wouldn't be breathless and suspicious in the afterlife. It would be as if I'd been there all along.
I'm kinda in the mood for a good excuse to be irresponsible.
The End.

Post 91

I have an hour and a half before midnight when I'll be taking a quiz that I have to take before 8 am tomorrow morning. I don't do homework as much as possible on Sunday so since I prefer staying awake late to waking up early, I'll be waiting until Monday, i.e. Midnight. It will be a test about candy. I'm excited to read that chapter. The other chapters were not as enjoyable. But I'm a candy nut. I love desserts. I really need to feed this passion and be a cook a good majority of my life. I project that I'll have culinary studies coming up at UVU. I'm just gracing BYU for a little while. One day they'll wish they used inspiration more than bias to accept students into their school when they see how cool I am and that they could have been the ones to brag about it. But I won't let that ever happen. Not me.

Um, I was going to say, there's nothing special about 91. It's just how many posts I have at this point. Actually, one of them is still a draft...I wonder if they count that one or not. I don't think I'll ever post that one. But it started out really well. Anyway, I have favorite posts. This won't be one of them.

Seven/twenty-one/two thousand and eight is the date tomorrow. It's my friend's birthday (I'll never forget that again) and the year anniversary of Axel Giraud's baptism. He's the awesome man of a missionary's dream. Never have I seen anyone so concerned to be completely repentant before his baptism. I know we'll never be perfect (hence why we get baptized) but his intention was real, his desires were pure and to the Lord. And as far as I have heard recently, he's doing really well. I'm so glad about him and his life. When we have God in our life, the joy runs deeper, the problems still flow but the support comes from all sides and we learn oh so much when we rely on the guy who knows everything. I love God. In fact, so much of me loves God, that if you took that part away from me all you'd have left is a piece of meat. Probably not that edible either. Depending on your meat preferences.

I'm very bored so I'll wrap it up here. A few random things first and you'll leave me be: Toffee bananas is not a great dessert. Cell phones seem to rule our relationships. I can't find my spare key. My roommates are so really truly awesome. If I could be an aquatic animal I would choose an octopus and I compared myself to an octopus this evening. I find much pleasure in speaking French. And cooking. I love cooking. It's like 91% of my spare time usage.

My bare feet traced lazily through the slightly yellowing grass on my way to check the mail. As a fallen plum squished through yesterday's perfectly manicured toes, I thought to myself, "It certainly has been a long time since I wrote on my blog." And indeed, the mailbox showing no fan mail, again, confirmed that I must get a-writin'. So, while my delicious bran muffins are in the oven, I advance.
I have a great friend that has read 17 books and written nearly two this summer. Have you noticed how summer is only about half-way through? The grass already has. I've read The Ultimate Gift, Inkheart, Twilight, New Moon or Eclipse (whichever comes second), Le Petit Prince (in French of course), Harry Potter 7 (ah what joy), and I've started Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close (which already, as I told one friend, I have fallen deep in curious love with). I'm going to school right now so my readings are assigned more so than hand-picked. But the other night when I was reading Alma 34 (that's in the Book of Mormon) I suddenly had this image of a simple one room event and I reached for my pen, somehow turned off my inner-editor, and wrote about 7 small-notebook-from-France pages of a story. It felt like I'd finally gotten to The Smart Gym: For brains and Intellect. Finally a good work out. Upon revision of course my editor is disgusted and just wants to reject every line. But I've put the event on paper.
Well, 18 minutes are up. These are some delicious bran muffins.

Another Year

More of a few of my favorite things:

nonstop exhausting days (now and then)

peeling bananas (but not eating them)

chewing bubblegum in the shower

pleasant surprise birthday guests

receiving and opening packages

leaving it better than finding it

getting jokes the others don't

killing spiders (is that bad?)

getting it right on my own

not working at the MTC

anonymous gift giving

holding ball pythons

kissing baby cheeks

marshmallow wars

hittin' the bullseye

foreign languages

v.i.p. invitations

measuring cups

playing hostess

experimenting

a clean house

growing wiser

blank paper

celebrating

stretching

observing

gift cards

missions

popcorn

dreams

Alaska

eating

books

hugs

Twisty Review: looks are deceiving

My boyfriend and I go to a restaurant in Heber City, Utah called Spin Cafe. Our waiter introduces himself as Twitch (well, I'm pretty sure. I didn't want to double check like an idiot..."did you say Twitch?.) His first words are, "here's the bad news." My, how discomforting that is! I never thought what that could feel like, because I'd never heard it in the restaurant setting before. He continues with a list of items they're out of for the night. Talk about your first impressions! Jeez, Twitch. That's not so bad. He does the best he can, I guess.

But, if the food's not great, it's not great.

http://www.spincafe.net/index.htm

It wasn't great. We take our seats, and just looking at our menus, Ty has already hit his elbow twice on the poorly designed and chosen floor chair. I'm sitting pin straight on the booth seat. We ask Twitch if it's alright to turn the table to sit side by side (like planks). He doesn't see any problem with it. Neither do the other two people in the cafe. So we make our move and order a dozen sweet & spicy smoked wings...priced at 5 cents less than $11.00.

Were we just hungry or were they really that great? The wings are good. They come with a tasty blue cheese ranch dipping sauce and sticks of celery and carrots. We have high hopes for the rest of what suddenly all comes out at once: our order of half a chicken and a "dinosaur" rib, each with two sides: veggie of the day (broccoli) and onion rings (he wasn't clear I'd be paying more for them); soup of the day (white bean vegetable) and salad (of the end of the day...).

Twitch declares them as voted the best onion rings in the state. I'm moving! The broccoli, actually good. The soup did not seize its day. At all. The salad, we're pretty sure, is the weeds from the parking lot, rinsed and padded with spinach leaves Popeye would be ashamed of. At least the ranch sides with it...

The half chicken must have been a baby. A runt baby. And the cooks felt so bad for it, they didn't want to smother it with any sort of sauce so I'd taste it. The rib is so fatty. Really. So ribs can be. But this one really must have come from an unpopular dinosaur that the other dino-kids teased. For main dishes, these really left us wanting to taste something more: anything at all. (And the bbq sauce. I don't use this word often: yuck.)

Around us, the help take care of us and ask if there is anything we need. Not really able to say, "yeah, better food," we graciously accept the water refills and ask for a to go box for the onion rings left over after I'd eaten only four. My mom likes them. Only, she'll never find out if she does because when we both felt kinda like the food was passing all too fast and went to the bathroom, Twitch threw them away in the whirlwind table clearing contest he must have...with himself. Quick! Have to make room for all. . .those..customers. not coming. Like me. Not coming back.

We pass on dessert. I remember the prices above $5 for each item, which is probably a tiny scoop of their acclaimed Gelato. Bbq and Gelato together? What a spin.

When the check comes it doesn't really hit me that we just spent $50.00 until down the road Ty repeats in disgust "$50.00? We only spent $37.00 at Carrabbas the other night."
"Really?" It dawned.

That was not a $50.00 dinner. It was not a $37.00 dinner. It was not a good dinner.

Spin cafe, eh?
Spin, verb: 1. a sick turning in circles sensation? check. 2. Rotate customers rapidly? check. 3. Take a trip in a motor vehicle? go somewhere else!

Going Bananas

"You know what I like to do?" I asked as I watched him prepare his breakfast of champions.
"Hm?" he replied without interest.
"I like to slit its throat and/or behead it, then pull back and scalp the rest of it." It's true. The knife makes a resonating 'shling!' noise of triumph.
"Then I skin it alive," he added.
I laughed, stunned by his witty participation. "Yeah you do!"
He always does. Takes him 10 minutes just to, well, skin a banana. There's no better way to describe what he does. I think it's a waste of time. He's a bit crazy.

Why?

Was it my driving? Was it that I looked like I just got out of bed? Was it me? Or is he as crazy as he looked?

I was driving my school bus. It's love school bus number nine. Nothing but high rollin good times and good feelings, until Monday morning. Okay, it's not that dramastic. This guy's head was covered in hair pointing every direction. It reflected the directionless look on his face. He was crossing the road intersecting the one I was cruising down seeming to wish he hadn't been walking around town all night. He neared the corner of the crosswalks and cut toward my road. I'm not sure why I was looking at him (maybe to make sure he didn't jump out in front of me), but he was looking back. His frown deepened in suspicion and he raised his right arm, bent his elbow down and stuck out his thumb. What? the crap. He just gave me a thumbs down?

Truth

Truth is, I don't ever want to be in a coma because then all the hairs that I pluck would grow out frighteningly and unallowably long.

No Ordinary Glove

Actually, this is any ordinary glove. The only reason it became blog-worthy is by what my dad said. I believe we had just prayed as a family and the glove was innocently resting its palm on the couch. my Dad snatched it up and said, "I wonder if the police are looking for the hand this belongs to?"



Rather stunned at his comment we stared, ears risking to hear him explain, "Well, I found it at the bottom of a cliff when I was hiking up the canyon. Just one."

For Now, It's Spring

One can't help but smile in this spring sunshine.



Flowers' smiles are contagious.

Guess Who?

which popular movie star does my radio remind you of?

Life Cycle

This is General