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?