Readjustments

Sigh. A nice weekend. Family get togethers full of laughter, music, games, and fun.

My happy tummy is full. Has been all weekend. Yummy food stuffs in well-stocked cupboards and grand dinners for the holiday season have seen to that.

But...lurking in the back of my brain, a whisper. A grating reminder.

Bare cupboards. Cold empty fridges. 

Grumpy belly gnomes. Grumbling and gnashing of teeth.

Food. A foreign dream for a college kid like me.

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Charcoal on the outside

Undergraduate studies. Roasting a pig over a pit. I've heard it both ways.

My allotted time has come and gone. But I'm still over the fire. I am well done through and through. They keep the skewer in my body. The heat cooks my soul away.

They mush prefer ash and charcoal.

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Wanderlust

My bag is packed. Selected and designed to get me to my journey's end.  I open the door. The first step is always the hardest, the leaving part. But yet not the hardest. The excitement for adventure in me makes it easy. I step onto the road to test my true endurance.

The road is long. I've known it for some time. Prepared in every way possible. But what awaits me, is beyond my comprehension. I've only heard stories and fairy tales of the place at the end of this road. I must get there. The desire in my heart and the strength in my soul begs me to reach out for it. Despite the promised dangers that lay in wait and the strain on my mortal body, I travel.

Thirsting and starving. Stumbling, weary, and travel worn. I stop. Only for a time. I am alone on the road. I find a stream heading the same direction I am. The cool water refreshes me and I eat my bread to strengthen me. The night is coming.

Much must be done to prepare myself for the long night. Shelter is thrown up and a fire lights a small circumference around me. I sleep for a time.

Noises coming from the dark. I've been taught to stay in the light. The creatures of the night don't bother with fire and its company. But sleep is hard to come by with the fear and anticipation of what lay beyond my eyes' seeing. The fear gathers inside me and I doubt the sun's rising. But just the slightest glimmer on the eastern horizon sparks hope in my heart.

The road stumbles me. My small torch only shows me so far ahead. Many times I climb huge obstacles and other times I walk sluggish through dense forest. But always my mind remembers where I'm going. And who will be there waiting.

I've reached the mountain. My destination lies beyond. With determination I reach up and take hold. My load weighs me down at times but it is essential for me to keep it close. Climbing requires all my strength and fortitude. Sometimes I run out. But Someone's hands push me forward or lift me up when I get caught.

Right now I must struggle on. The hardest part of my journey is stretched up before me. I have come a long way. But more is required if I am to reach this place. My heart yearns for it. Although my body is weak, strength will come.

Nothing can stop me but myself.

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Golden delirium

I watch the little white fluffs coasting down from grey low-cast skies. Street lights cast a glow of gold across the white terrain, almost beguiling me. 

But I'm no fool. 

There is no warmth on the other side of the double-paned glass that I look through. It is a false type of gold. 

Hell's gold.

The real gold won't come for a long while it seems. The presence of cold and slushy snow drifts acts to push back its coming. 

The world has been subjected to this cool silver season for a small eternity. Every year it seems to last longer than the winter prior. And colder. It's always colder than the last roll around. 

Heat. 

That's what I look forward to. Hot molten sunlight saturating my skin and hair. Inhaling spicy summer air, warming my frozen soul. Gold and lively green hues surrounding me and feeding my dull spirit. Sunlight reaching into every dark corner and refurbishing the winter dilapidated happiness.

To run through fields of lush green grass chasing balls and frisbees. To catnap in sunlight's warm embrace. To accompany nature's inhabitants through morning's first waking, along deer trails and mountainsides. To explore the wilderness of a hidden grove. To lay in repose, watching the clouds drift lazily across an ocean-blue sky. To watch tiny seedlings swell to adulthood in the sun's daily presence. To lose yourself in the pink and white frothed orchards.

These are what I hunger for and every winter I'm left wanting. Starving.

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Fire + Men = ?!!!

Midnight approaches and everyone is getting antsy. Food adorns the kitchen counter and none of it has been left untouched. Standing in the kitchen are a few of the men; exchanging funny stories of things that had happened to each of them over the past year. On the kitchen table a riveting game of Picture Dice is commencing and the occupants are raising their voices according to their luck or lack thereof. In the living room in front of the couch four or more dancers jam out to the songs on Just Dance 2; the newest addition to the Wii repertoire; while an unlicensed cameraman takes an unauthorized recording of one particular dancer...! A few people are gathered around the computer playing some extraordinary game I*m sure. My Dad however after waking from a short evening nap; has gone outside to rig up the launching pad.

The clock strikes 12 and everyone scrambles to throw their coats; gloves; scarves; hats; and boots on. The babies and small children are asleep inside and a few stay in to keep warm. But testosterone is pumping and all the men must launch something big and spectacular.

A few bottle rockets fly into the sky and explode with a pop! Drifting down the porch stairs my puppy*s whines reach my ears. I walk out past the halo of light surrounding the house to cover her ears and hold her trembling body close as firework after firework explodes in the air. Reds; golds; and a few blues shower the sky with their brilliant light. My horse paces a frantic burrow in the snow along the far fence; making worried noises with each burst of light.

Silence once again reigns. The show must have ended. I watch as the bystanders march inside.

The proud launchers still buzz a pattern around the remaining fireworks. Some are saved for the next years show; but there are a few of the men that can't leave a firework unfired! One last big firework is sent screaming into the frozen New Year air.

Something just feels off. The men stash the rest of the fireworks in a bag for next year and pick up the burnt out remains of those that were fired. But something was missing. I ponder the events that had just transpired.

No near death experiences this year. All of the illegal Wyoming fireworks had actually ended up in the air as was their purpose. That was it!!! Almost every year of the Crook get together for New Years at least ONE of the airborne fireworks hadn't made it up where it belonged. One year a bottle rocket fell over and shot at almost every group of family members huddled together around the yard. Another year a huge blue firework hadn*t shot out of its canister and had exploded on the ground where everyone was still gathered.

The excitement of those years outweighed the excitement experienced this year. Safety was always a good thing...but you never have stories to tell from those years. Just a thought.

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Cocoa + Sugar + Milk =

Chocolate pudding. The little box sits in my cupboard off to the side, untouched and unnoticeable. Until now. My eyes furtively glance at its alluring cover time and time again. I can't seem to forget it's small presence there. My brain can't seem to fathom any other food product to be edible. But at the same time my brain says, "NO! It will accumulate on your behind, your thighs, your belly, your forehead, everywhere that it is undesirable. Do NOT pull that chocolate pudding out of the cupboard!"

My stomach long since deprived of any nourishment grumbles it's thoughts, "I'm empty. Anything will do. But why not something delicious and succulent?" Once again my eyes seek the brown and blue colored box...why are these colors so vivid today?! My hands try to shut the door to my barren cupboard...or is it full? I can't tell...all I can see is that blasted box of pudding!!

Suddenly my mouth begins to water and it sends memories of the delicious taste of the cool soft chocolate pudding to my wavering brain! My resolve weakens...I had basically killed my body exercising the day before...and they say that chocolate holds the key to rebuilding muscle... So much is at stake!

"Ashley..." What the..?! I thought all my roommates were at class or work... I glance around. Nothing. "Ashley..." It was the PUDDING!!! Pudding isn't supposed to talk right? I'm hallucinating... I'm imagining that that stupid box is calling my name! I'd better eat it to shut it up... I can't have a box of chocolate pudding goin around speaking my name. Not gonna happen.

I pull the box frantically out of the cupboard and the milk out of the fridge. I mix the powdery contents of the package into the two cups of cow product in a medium-sized yellow bowl. I wait anxiously while the concoction lives in the fridge on the top shelf cooling and setting into that pudding consistency. The empty box sits in the garbage...screaming of my weakness.

The next step. Consume with pleasure. So I grab a spoon and dip it into the brown goodness... I am definitely a fan of deliciousness. Tomorrow when I am feeling sick because of the overload of sugar, I'll regret this...but right now...I'm doin just fine!

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