Land of the Tetons

 TRIP TO REXBURG 
/surrounding areas

Friday September 16, 2011

(Betsy starts the log)

5:15 - Betsy gets off work and rushes home because she thinks that
          Ashley will actually be ready. FALSE.
6:00 - Ashley takes forever
6:05 - Ashley takes forever
6:10 - Ashley takes forever
6:15 - We finally leave

"Put a suggestive face." -Ash

"And my brains are full of mucus." -Jacs

6:39 - Just A Kiss by Lady Antebellum comes on the radio
6:39 - call Dacia and sing it to her
6:40 - Ashley is fetching annoying

(Ashley takes over since Betsy obviously has issues)

-"Where'd you put the movies???" -Ash

-"In a BUUUXXX!!" -Bets

6:43 - Cross the border into Idaho (luckily we get past the border control since we do have Betsy)
6:44 - Jacs lies about a pen mark on Bets' face - hilarious
6:46 - Betsy freaks out because Ashley is breathing
6:52 - My Oh My Yer So Goodlookin' by Blake Shelton=Betsy's FAVE!

(Betsy grabs the log back like a 2 year old)

-"His knightly duties arise..." -Ash  <-----Ashley has her mind in the gutter!

-"Ummm...?" -Bets (Ash: FALSE! Bets' mind can't get out of the gutter!)

7:15 - stop at the creepy gas station in Swan Lake that Jacs is obsessed with
          and get:
                     choco covered nuts
                     cheeeeps (in English=chips)
                     donettas (in English=powdered donuts)
                     baked chips
          we devour the salt and vinegar chips
7:24 - Jacs braves the rain to fix the windshield wiper
7:30 - Ash plays the geetar
7:40 - We stop @ Sinclair in Arimo and change windshield wipers in the
          pouring rain. Fix-it Jacqueline puts wiper back on (w/ help from
          old guy in neck brace) and Ashley and Betsy go puddle jumping.

(Ashley finally gets control of the log again...sanity reigns once more)

8:36 - Bets calls and chatterboxes it to her "real" friend Mumsy
          Ash and Jacs have their own phone convo
          Bets smears her feet across the inside of the windshield
9:02 - Bets FINALLY starts talking to us again (Bets: 24/7 Ashley whines)
          Bets requests a SONG :D
 

(Bets somehow gets her hands on it)

9:37 - Stop @ Sinclair in SUGAR CITY

(Thankfully Ashley gets it back)

10:25 - Start a fire...Bets freaks out because Ash's hand was in the stove
            ate food, watched Red, generator died, fell asleep.
0dark:30 - FREAKIN HOTTER THAN H-E-double hockey sticks

Saturday September 17, 2011

(Bets needs a complain sesh again)

6:00 - Jacqueline wakes up at the butt crack of dawn and
          clanks around loudly for hours on end.
8:34 - We drink hot chocolate
8:51 - Betsy pees with NO INCIDENT

"I'm not getting naked in the wild." -Bets (Jacqueline has a hissy fit)

8:55 - Eat peaches that somebody else picked, clean up
10:02 - Go hiking, climb on rocks w/ beautiful view
1:11 - Pack up and hike out
1:11 - Betsy carries Ashley's 1,000 lb geetar
1:21 - Drive to Jac's house
2:00 - Be true to our city worker selves and load branches into a pickup
          (just like old times!!)
3:30 - Life is pretty much all about horses:
        Catch the horses
        Tie up the horses
        Saddle the horses
        Mount the horses (Betsy is a pro)
        RIDE THE HORSES
                 Jacqueline teaches us how to gallop
                 Ride all over the hills

(Ashley rescues the log)

                 Ride through the pond and over to pick apples
                 Go out to the pasture and ride around the cute little calves
                 Unsaddle all the horses and let them out to pasture
6:30 - Jacs becomes frantic about the lost calf up in the mountains
6:35 - Grab something to eat,
          Ashley's sandwich is fabulous (bread-mayo, ham, tomatoes, lettuce)
          Betsy's is gross (bread-chipotle grossy, ham, pickles of the devil)
6:50 - We gather up all our gear and head out to rescue the little calf
7:11 - Ashley drives the fourwheeler like a freakin PRO
          drivin stick shift isn't a problem
7:15 - Bets gets off and clambers over the fence, Ashley discovers the calf
7:19 - We meet up again - Jacs on horseback - then we go on foot and
          chase calf through fields and thickets, groves and cliffs,
          canyons and hills. Ashley snags the leg to end the chase.

"HEEEEEEEELLLLLLLLPPPPPP!!!!!" -Jacs

7:46 - Jacs carries the cute little girl to the top of the hill on her shoulders
7:50 - Car smelled like gasoline + cow. Ash nurtured the scared little cow
          to health sitting in the back of the Burb - named her Gabby
8:10 - Took pics of Gabby - Bets FREAKED out when she (Gabby) sucked
          on her fingers

- Got pics. :>

(Betsy somehow gets ahold of it)

         Rankings at Catching Cow
                   (According to Bets...who didn't catch the cow!!)
         Betsy: *********
         Jacs: *****
         Ash: **

"I don't need 15 minute updates every 10 seconds." -Jacs

Things we didn't do that night
    Make volcano cake things
    Go to the drive-in movie
    Be nice to Betsy
    Smell Good
    Eat real food

Things we did do
    Rescue a calf
    Watch the Man from Snowy River (fitting, no?)
    Shower
    Eat lots of delicious snacks/junk food

Sunday September 18, 2011

9:00ish - Wake up
9:30 - Wait for Jacqueline
9:35 - Wait for Jacqueline
9:40 - Wait for Jacqueline
9:45 - Wait for Jacqueline
9:50 - Wait for Jacqueline
9:55 - Wait for Jacqueline
10:00ish - Finally drive home
          Jacs drives maniacally to get home before church to prevent
          us all from becoming sinners

1:08 - Betsy is home!
1:11 - Ashley is home
1:16 - Jacs is home

Log ends. Over and out.

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Courageously Restarting

I forgot about my blog. (boo-hiss) Luckily I don't have a TON of followers or else that would get awkward.........


I'd like to think that starting over is perfectly normal. Exercising. Few of us have 100% attendance. Same with eating healthy. I actually had a journal entry about this just this morning! Funny how things crop up. I don't believe in coincidence either.

The blog was something for me to use the literary word to express myself during difficult times or ironic times or funny times or just plain good times. I find that I miss that feeling. But I grew up - graduated college and moved to a new place where I got caught up in trying to connect to real-life people. So now that I'm settled - nearly 3 years later - "I'M BACK!!!!"

You wouldn't think about it but the Lord wants us to always understand the idea of starting over. I think as humans it's almost second nature to let things slip and then try again and then let it slip and try again and again and again. The Atonement of Jesus Christ allows us to do this. No matter what the circumstance is. So even for my silly blogging that got dropped for a few years...starting over again always feels so good! So. Let the adventure begin. Again.

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Sleeping habits

I've been noticing a few things upon waking to the sunshiney world morning after morning. Things that I must do in my sleep but of course am unaware of such actions as I am asleep. Thus I can only make guesses from information gathered after rising from slumber.

I rotate clockwise. 

(I basically unravel all my sheets in one direction and send them plummeting to the ground)

I switch places with my body pillow. 

(I wake up on the other side of my body pillow than originally arranged)

I somehow push the mattress away from the wall. 

(when making my bed faithfully every morning I have to push it back up to the wall so my pillows don't disappear into the black hole behind my bed)

I pretend to eat suckers. 

(Carrie, my roommate, tells me that she hears noises that sound like I'm sucking on a sucker or eating quite noisily)

I write music in my dreams and hum it to Carrie.

(Pretty self-explanatory...)

I sometimes remove items from about my person. 

(nothing scandalous, things like earplugs, socks, etc)

I'm a really light sleeper and always have been. All my roommates, siblings and most especially my lovely mother can attest to this. 

It's a wonder I can do all these without waking myself up. 

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Trains are mean

Train wrecks. Nasty business.

BIG TRAIN. little me.

I never know if I'll get run over entirely or just knocked out of the way. Terribly unavoidable either way. 

If I knew how to walk through life without following the tracks then I might not get hit so often. Or at all really. No matter. 

Being hit by trains all through life never killed anyone. Well...until it did.

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A word on being cut open

6 am. That's when I have to be there. 

NOT when I have to open my eye lids to a dark world.

NOT when I have to awake myself and arouse my faculties. 

NOT when I have to take a shower to scrub the special antibiotic soap all over my bacteria-ridden body. 

NOT when I have to prepare myself for my doom.

NOT when I have to leave my home to get to the hospital. 

I'm the first 'case.' That's right. The lucky girl that arrives at 6 am. 

6 am. Oh how I haven't missed you. Lucky for me, I get to be knocked out for a couple of hours to make up for it. That's when they cut me open. Yup. Like in the child's game, Operation. 

Tools needed...true story

Only for real. 

Due to many hilarious stories of delirious post-anesthetic behaviors, I'm leaving my phone in the care of my beloved mother who will be sane and drug-free at all times. She will be in possession of the device whilst I am in a drug-induced craziness. Until such a time that I can coherently converse with you lovely peoples.

SO nothing too scandalous if you please. It's my mother who'll be reading them. Just sayin.

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I grow 'monsters'

Christmas break wasn't as fun as it should've been. Poinsettas, twinkling lights, candy up the wazoo, stockings, Christmas tree all decorated in balls and bamboozles, homemade food and all around good cheer.

Nope. I had to visit the ER.

Poop.

Doctors and nurses poking me, making me pee in a cup, and all sorts of uncomfortable, painful hospital activities. I think they were mad that I took up their time on Christmas Eve. Not my fault. They should've blamed it on my monster, not me.

If not at the insistence of my parental units that it could be appendicitis and potentially hazardous to my life, I wouldn't have even bothered going. I would've assumed the debilitating, monstrous pain in my lower right abdomen was going to end up being a sore muscle or something else entirely non life-threatening. Instead they found my 7.1cm x 5.71cm lump, affectionately known as my monster. This sweet little thing I have grown in my body isn't very sweet.

In fact, it's dross. It needs to leave my body. It keeps causing me further uncomfortabilities.

Luckily for me they want to get it out too. BUT. The catch is, is that this fascinating mass is quite decidedly attached to my right ovary. Due to the size of my monster they have to take my ovary out with it. No worries all will continue on normally as I was fortunate enough to be born with two of them. Future child-bearing will be a little more difficult but completely possible. So you can all breathe easy...there will be plenty of adorable little Ashley's running around in the future for your enjoyment.
 
The next few months are going to be the best of my life (insert sarcasm). 

After what my Doctor called an 'exploratory laparotomy' I will have a nice LONG incision to deal with all decked out in stitches and soreness. This being because they need to check my other ovary, who's been sitting there innocently doing nothing so out of the ordinary as growing a monster, for anything suspicious.

This means that the 6-pack abs I have been working on the past little while will most likely deteriorate and I will no longer have a beach body as I do now (joke). Not to mention doing essentially anything with my body will be painful as every movement I may do whether it be walking, vegetating, laughing, rolling over in bed, asking politely for a bowl of ice cream, jumping jacks, or simply going skydiving, will require the use of my abdominal muscles. My now sweetly toned tummy muscles will have cuts through them and nasty little stitches pulling them back together. There will be no using of my abs for some time.

Let's just say I might have had it coming to me.

I found excessive amounts of delight in watching my sister try not to laugh while recovering from the removal of her wisdom teeth...I might've gone out of my way to make her laugh.

There's the story of my 'monster.'

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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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Stress is like a hole in my stomach

Sometimes I want to scream like this.

And other times I want to go crazy like this.

But most of the time it ends up coming out like this.

Roiling and broiling in my little tummy. One little spot at the bottom starts to burn.

All the heat focuses. White hot fire lances everything around it.

Nothing wants to come into my mouth. My stomach clenches and starts to get all wrinkly like a raisin inside my body. Everything starts to erupt like Mt. Vesuvius. 

But I can't explode. Everyone else is keeping a cork on it and it looks silly for one person to explode by themselves.

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Melts and Hot Air Balloons

There once was a little girl named Shley. Dreams of being a grand prestigious artist had always been hers.

One day her friend Bie and she decided to have an adventure. They gathered their crayons around them and some canvases and blow dryers and a little bit of sticky super glue...and they started creating.

After messes and frantic searches and sticky fingers, masterpieces emerged.

We call this the SHAGGY DOG...

Rainbow...duh

Mud castle/Fangorn forest

 Will she sell these pieces of art? Oh no. They are far too wonderful to trade for mere moneys!

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Bye bye plane

I cradled the air around my niece as she climbed up the old orchard ladder. Her intent on reaching the very top with all the bravery of a two year old, was steadfast. She most certainly didn't need any help from me. She informed me she could do it all by herself (that didn't stop me from adding my protection nonetheless...).
 
She reached the step almost at the end of my reach so I clamped my hand on her ankle, effectively ending her assent. Every time she reached that point she would look around and with a grin brighter than the sun on her face, she would say "I can see anything I want to!" To my mind (all of 22 years of experience in the art of thinking, thank you very much) that was obviously impossible but in her mind (only 2.5 years absent from heaven) everything was still so very possible.

A plane flew by overhead, a mere speck against the vast blue sky. My beautiful little niece gasped and waved to it exclaiming, "Bye! Bye! Plane! I will see you tomorrow! And we will fly!" I was struck by the fantastic thought. How big the world is for one so small. Her dreams weren't separated from her reality.

The obstacles in our lives are hard. A lot of them are painful and very trying. Just as this ladder was quite a feat for the 2 year old, it was also an opportunity. She could see so much more at that height than she ever could at ground level and it didn't matter to her that she had to climb, in fact she was happy to do it. Every time we hit an obstacle, it is just another ladder to climb. We have to learn what it takes to climb it, what we need to pull out of ourselves to get to the top. Then we can say "I can see anything I want to!" We can reach our potential a ladder at a time! The higher we climb the more of the valley* of our lives we can see.

My niece luckily did not climb that ladder alone (or else I would have words from her mother and I probably still will...) nor do we have to climb our ladders alone. All of us experience the need for independence especially when those around us offer their help but just think...we always have that one Person who will never let us climb alone no matter our protests. Christ* is our spotter. He will always make sure we get to the top safely. Always.

Then when we have no longer to climb...he helps us fly to our dreams.

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Eggs-tra traditional paintings

As soon as the bubbling water finishes boiling the oval white canvases and the colors saturate their intended medium, the child within bursts out the seams. Endless possibilities rattle around in my mind with all sorts of color combinations, a myriad of patterns and designs. The visions begin to form one by one. Each unique and exciting.

Eggs plopping. Crayons silently scraping. Fizzing colors surrounding me. Masterpieces only after awkward transitions and strange beginnings. Exhilaration tingles through me as each egg comes out exactly or better than my imagination had concocted.

Easter eggs...2011

I may or may not have gotten my fingers dyed in this production...

All kidding and frivolity aside. This season always brings to me a renewed remembrance of my Savior, as it is a celebration of His atoning sacrifice and most especially for his resurrection. As my Friend, my Comforter, my Redeemer, my Brother, my Advocate before the Father, He has never let me down. My straying feet have been the cause for separation. Jesus is the Christ. He is risen again. I have no doubt. I look forward to the day I can be in His presence again. In His name, amen.

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Moving myself: Jog part jump

This is going to sound really bad. Maybe I shouldn't say it. But it's the truth. My confession today is...

I like to do crazy things to my body.

Don't get me wrong here and leave the page thinking you just came across another crazy person!!

For the most part actually 'altering' my body is not an option. Because of my beliefs (1), I will not do extreme things to my body because of the sacredness of the covenants I have made. Henna is the closest I've come to getting a 'tattoo' and the closest I will ever get. I have recently become kind of obsessed with Bollywood and that may have played a part in my crazy decision to participate...

Sadly it faded within a week...

One of my very dear friends (who got me hooked on Bollywood) joined in this activity and has now elicited my services as the artist for her next Hindi party.

All my life...I have lived with a body that was whole. The only holes in my body were the ones God blessed me with. As a church worldwide, we female Latterday Saints have been asked to only have one set of ear piercings and nothing else. Now my Momma decided before that counsel ever came, that we were not allowed to have piercings until we were 18 and could make a marginally rational decision about what to do to our bodies. By the time I turned 18, I hadn't really the desire to join the crowd and get my ears pierced. I liked being different.

One day years later, I was in Wal-mart (don't judge me for it...) and made a split decision to get my ears pierced.

Luckily I had an older lady doing it for me...who couldn't have possibly pushed the needle through any slower...

I love the diversity of earrings. I can express my particular style, mood, and craziness with my choice in earrings.

Probably the craziest thing I've ever done to myself on purpose and with a lot more thought than other crazy things I've done. I decided to wax my legs. I'm telling you now...this is probably the first time in my life...I've screamed in pain (assuming that yelling and grunts don't count). I did the strips the first time I did this and Ima tell ya. That hurt like nothing else I've ever known and I've been injured multiple times in sports and other activities. Since then I've learned that hard Brazilian wax, which is 85% less painful, is the way to go. I have waxed my legs a few more times and the results are so very wonderful.

Now to the awesome things I've done. Besides playing sports with all of my worth (diving, sliding, pushing, shoving) and putting myself in dangerous situations (hiking up the mountainside and coming down waterfall ravines in the rain...), I have done things people either admire or term crazy.

I did a polar plunge. I really don't think I need to say more.

Note to self: don't submerge...just dip...

To go along with that, we went up to a rope swing at Bloomington Lake, Idaho during the early summer. It is in fact a glacier lake with snow sitting off to the side halfway in the Lake.

Am I crazy? Possibly but I'm all right with it.

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Flimsy flamsy

So...I know all of you wonderful people are getting sick of the fickleness of my template design choices. I have indeed been quite dissatisfied with nearly every design I've had thus far until now. I was able to design this one on my own for the most part and I absolutely adore it!!! I want to say that I'll keep this one for ages but I am quite a flimsy flamsy so there is no guarantee...

But I hope that all of you enjoy it as much as I do and that it is aesthetically pleasing to all who visit the awesomeness it contains.

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Books of paradise

There are many times in my life when I just need to cuddle up on the couch or curl up on my bed and read a good book! 

Sometimes I*m in the mood for a gushy-like-gushers; cheesy-like-the-delicious-squeaky-kind; sappy-as-a-pine-tree romance novel. Other times I*m in need of an honest to goodness C.S. Lewis novel for some deep soul searching and philosophical ponderances. Every night I crack open the Book of Mormon (1) for some serious studying to find life changing answers and comforting words. When I*m up for it I*ll grab a Sherlock Holmes mystery and puzzle my way through it. 

But the books I will never tire of. The books that capture my attention every time I look at the cover. Books with cunning wit. Books of stunning insight and out-of-this-world knowledge. Books that make me laugh until I cry or cry until I laugh. Books that change my life. 

These are books of the paradisical glory of which I speak...

Me and my awesome nose...oh; and the book is there too.

The Complete Book of Nose Etiquette
 ...and other nasal matters

written by Dr. Doight du Nez

drawings by Steve Bjorkman

Never before have I stumbled upon such a work of greatness. Well...it was more my uncle. He was foraging through his old room and its remaining occupants and brought it up to us. I snatched it and haven*t relinquished it since. With amazing depictions of the different nose types in existence; the book describes the 7 basic nose types; discusses the different booger removal techniques available; and even lists some easy do-it-yourself ways to get the nose you*ve always dreamed of. This is by no means light reading.

If you can see my eyes...you might be ninja...

The Ninja Handbook

This book looks forward to killing you soon

Official product of the International Order of Ninjas

This wondrously sneaky book came as a not-so-surprise Christmas gift from an esteemed foe of mine. As is his nature; he tends to think that I need help in this area (little does he know I wrote Section II deducing your ninja level and Section IV the skills of a ninja). In this book it discusses secrets of the elite ninja lifestyle. As the title denotes it is a handbook of sorts. But as with everything else that is awesome; being a ninja goes far and beyond what is contained in this teeny tiny book as all real ninjas well know. 

note: there are serious penalties to those who read this book and disperse the actual contents of its pages...you have been warned...

I*m just a small town girl trying to figure things out...

This Is NOT A Book

Written by Keri Smith creator of Wreck This Journal

This Is NOT A Book was an interesting item to come across. It really isn*t a book. I didn*t read it. Every page contains a new adventure to be performed by the owner (me). From creating Treasure Maps to Psychological mood-altering machines to Kits for boring events. This book is stuffed with crazy random missions for the bored-out-of-your-mind type people or people who need some serious awesomeness in their lives. Some day when I*ve completed all of the pages inside...I will be so mind-bogglingly fantastic no one will know what to do with me.

Well...that is assuming they know what to do with me now...as a normally fantastic person...

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Person deja vu and heroes

The weather in Logan; a cloudless sky which causes convectional blinding coldness and a wind chill that drops the temperature by another million degrees; can get kind of cold. As previously discussed; I dislike the cold. I don*t look up much when I feel like my face is being frozen off of my head.

Walking to Institute (1) I have the wind at my back so I take more opportunity for people watching.

A boy is walking towards me that looks familiar and as he gets closer; I deduce that he looks similar to a boy from one of my classes. Either way I don*t know him so I pass him by without a second thought.

Short cuts through buildings further protects my body it*s inevitable demise from the arctic weather outside. Many people pass me by; strangers; friends; and familiar faces. I chat with a few and greet a few more. I near the exit of my building and see a boy who looks just like the kid from my class...

Wait. 

It*s the same kid I just passed not too long ago! Same hat; same coat; same backpack; and strangely enough; same facial expression.

How the ~BEEP~ did he get all the way on the other side of campus in time to pass me again?! Had I just witnessed a Superman at work?

Without any other explanation available...I*m gonna have to go with yes.

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Dweam wiffin a dweam

DREAM ONE

Snow is stacked around the road in plowed piles. Pine trees make a high skyline and through their hallways a dark and spacious warehouse opens. To the side of the mountain road a mining pit. Tiny figures pick at the rocks and small explosions spatter the mine. Formless people mill around the constricted open area; disappearing and reappearing with little purpose other than to exist in my mind.

From the deep blurry forest a Tyrannosaurus Rex bursts into the scene. Frantic movements of the figures becomes a haze in my peripherals. My limbs feel sluggish and my vision can*t seem to clear as I search for a hiding space from the huge carnivorous creature. A dugout; only tall enough for me and just as wide as a person across the shoulders; appears in the ground at the top of the hill with a few hiders in it already. I drop down inside and wait for the all*s clear.

A military march is heard in the distance. Soundless voices urge my escape. Only I can get away fast enough to come and rescue them from the overrule of the foreign military. I run up the hill and down through the warehouse. My computer and its cord are in my hands. It is essential that I keep it.

The officers of the brigade enter the warehouse moments after I run down the stairs. My fingers lose their grip on the computer. I look towards the opening to the upper floor and the leader looks at me with calculating eyes. He points at me and I weave and jump through the bottom floor to safety.

I am in the city now. I make my way into the Taggart Student Center. I find an elderly man who puts his arm around my shoulder; shielding me from the view of the occupant soldiers. His wife comes to my other side and guards me there. A soldier comes and tries to see my face. I keep it turned away and make my escape outside. I somehow find myself on babysitting duty. They only get to have 10 minutes to play outside.

At the close of their playtime; barrels of various colors float down from the sky. They melt into the ground where the storehouse resides. We wait in line; first come; first served. I come second after the first unlucky man. I turn to the boy behind me and we walk away trying to keep our spirits up. The front man attacks me and thrusts me up to the wall by my shoulders.

I push him away several times but each successive attack he gets stronger. My fists pummel his face but seem to have lost their substance. I feel completely helpless. I don*t have the strength I can feel in my anger. Something is wrong. My limbs don*t have strength at all. With one final attempt at escape from the evil man; I punch his face with everything left inside me and the jolt wakes me.

DREAM TWO

I look around. I*m in my room. Thank heavens. It was a dream. Odd. I*m not in my bed. I crawl out from under the covers and look to see that I am in fact at the foot of my roommate*s bed; scrunched into a ball and she is still asleep. I slip out onto the floor. I swear I don*t sleep walk. Perhaps tonight had disproved that. I stand up and look around. There isn*t much light seeping in through the blinds. It must still be night time.

Well I don*t feel too sleepy. A television sits on a dresser that has somehow replaced the head of my bed in the corner. I toggle the switches and look for a channel to watch. A female news reporter; in front of a red background; rambles on indistinguishably about something boring but I can*t seem to get away from this channel. My other roommates are still asleep so I try to find the volume button. It can*t be found. The television gets louder and louder. I panic because I don*t want to wake them all up. The noise eventually wakes me.

DREAM THREE

I*m in my old apartment in Old Farm. I*m laying on the ground between Sally and Charlie; my feet propped up on Sally*s armrest. The lights downstairs are all off and the hallway light upstairs shines down the stairs and through the bars of the stair railing. A movie is on and shadows of people I know sit on the couches attentive to its story. I try to sit up and my body won*t move. I*m so tired. I can*t seem to keep my eyes open. I can*t make anything move. My eyelids close but then flutter open as I come awake.

DREAM FOUR

I*m in my bed. My clock blinks early morning. My eyelids are heavy and my mind is grateful for the promised rest until my alarm is actually set to go off. I close my eyes and go back to sleep to find blurry dreams and sluggish fantasies.

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Long-legged derby

On a regular day; just like any other; I find myself at the gym running to my heart*s content. Being very competitive by nature; I feel quite proud of my speed for running and my aloofness to the physical exertion. I glance to the man beside me. His is a higher speed. No need to hide my running prowess. I amp it up and drive my little legs to match his speed with ease.

My peripherals watch his easy strides and compare to my own quick short steps to conform to the speed that we both have set. I must lengthen my steps. My legs welcome the stretched out pace and slip into the new stride length.

Not more than a few seconds later the young man increases his pace. The nerve. His posture still suggests that the pace is easy and slow for him. Blast. The height to leg length ratio is vastly different between us two individuals. What to do? I gauge my energy reserves and decide that I can handle it...for a little while. I stack my courage and punch the button. The going gets a little tough. My legs are getting tired and wobbly like jello. Sheesh. He makes it look easy. His legs are as long as Ponderosa Pines!

My breath comes out in short little puffs and my energy quickly runs out. Now I consider myself to be quite in shape. But honestly those of us with shorter legs must produce more reps per minute in order to cover the same amount of distance. This long-legged young man continues to take a stroll while I struggle on. Of course the time comes that he leaves for another part of the gym walking nonchalantly and my allotted running time comes to an end, I fall off the edge of the treadmill barely maintaining equilibrium. 

Oh the woes of a short-legged life.  

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A spoonful of bubbly

The feeling in the room is calm and reverent. Everyone in the spacious room is sitting quietly on the green padded benches paying especial attention to the speaker.

The young man at the podium finishes his elocution and the intermediate hymn begins. The entire congregation sings the psalm with fire and gusto. As is customary; my sister and I alternate between the different parts and our voices dance an ever-changing duet. In the third verse; which carries a sacred message to its singers; a sudden high vibrato Snow White voice resonates in the bench directly in front of us. The composure that most suits the occupants of a church meeting begins to crumble. The tickling in our throats bubbles over. Laughter emits.

As the organ*s reverberating sounds and the chants of the singing congregation drown out the spurts of laughter squeezing past our lips; we struggle to regain at the least a reverent appearance. Giggles erupt nonetheless and the merriment continues. Without the use of our own voices to cover it; the operatic sounds of Snow White*s voice serves as a constant renewal to our amusement.

The hymn comes to an end as hymns are wont to do. The time for self-control is here. The moment is at hand.

INTERJECTION HERE

The thing about giggles in sacrament is that they can*t really truly be controlled. Containing something that requires a moment of vocal expulsion in a place where silence is key for the sake of the meeting; is a mission impossible.

Observe.

Covering the mouth doesn't cut it. Sound leaks right between the spaces in the fingers. In fact; it increases the startlingly loud factor by producing a kazoo effect. Taking deep breaths is a joke. That only increases the air capacity for the bubbling of giggles. Holding breath produces the same results as deep breaths. Looking to the Bishop only adds to the silliness as the need for control increases. Giggles are as wild animals; the more you try for control; the less control you have. Giggles as we all know; are supercalifragilistically contagious. The contagiousness increases with containment. If I gain control; my sister loses it. If she gains composure, I bail. It doesn*t help that my roommate Pan joins our nonsensical ways. No matter how hard we fight for control; we lose it. The chuckles and guffaws slip through.

To end the story; the closing hymn was sung as loudly as possible until the giggles inevitably begun anew. We will never inform Snow White of our amusement. It's better this way.

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Araruana x Macao

I*m watching the students file in and sit in their seats. The buzz of teenage voices fills the room but one voice rises above the others with ease.

His attention is arrested on me. His white whiskery face pools with an excited blush. This jail-bait male practically dances and prances in his seat. The students in the room laugh and give their full attention to his useless antics.

I can feel his eyes intent on my face; watching my every move. Anytime I happen to glance his way; he puffs up and shows off his colors. I chuckle and shake my head at his naivete. Even if he were in date-able age range for me; he definitely isn*t my type. Positioning himself on the table in front of me; he bobs his head up and down repeatedly.

*Hello!* His voice grates on my eardrums.

*Hello. How are you?* I ask with exaggerated enthusiasm. Instead of replying; he looks at me from the side; *making eyes* at me. I can*t help but laugh out loud. He joins me and drags it out past the point of humor. He holds his leg out towards me invitingly. Oh no. I*m not so easily fooled! I*ve been in this situation before and I got hurt.

That beak was NOT something to be trifled with. But for some odd reason this 6 year old male has chosen me out of all the females in the room to flirt with. He flaps his wings and sharpens his beak; pulling out all of his best moves apparently. I relent and allow him to sit on my arm next to my body. Peikia dances and sings to me. He rubs his face on my shoulder; a sign of true affection coming from a macaw. The worst flirtatious gesture he pulls out is his regurgitating-loogie-to-show-you-that-I-am-a-good-provider trick. Not yummy.

Of course my kind act led to pain. His beak; with 350 pounds of pressure; was angrily taking his woes of unrequited love out on my unprotected body. This had happened before. Biting isn*t a very nice thing to do to someone; but a 6 year-old Catalina macaw doesn*t care about a common courtesy such as that.

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Snowflakes

Grumbling with bitterness and resentment, I flip my hood up and step out of the warm building into the falling snow. It's not the huge light fluffy snowflakes that fall in enchanting patterns but rather little wisps of ice streaming down to the already frozen earth.

Faceless strangers pass me, hoods pulled low over their foreheads. I struggle over the unevenly trodden snow as I make my way home.  Although my hood is pulled up and over my head, it doesn't seem to cover quite enough. Iceflakes still pelt me in the face. I bend my head forward against the attack. My forward progression requires more vision than is provided thus. So I lift my face and take the snowflakes in the face once more.

There's a lot to be said about the people I see walking undeterred by the cold, wet flecks smacking them in the face. My eyes blink rapidly of their own accord every few seconds and twitch uncontrollably between blinks. Whatever makeup I managed to get on my face and eyes in the sleepy getting ready hours of the morning, was fast melting off. My brow becomes furrowed and my nose crinkles with the strain of trying to see past the blasted snowflakes. The entire surface area of my face was intent on closing in around my eyes to protect them from the mini ice bullets.

All of these people with the finesse to blink naturally in normal intervals must be laughing quite recklessly on the inside. I probably would if I could see my face contorting as each seemingly harmless snowman baby flies into my eyes. No one else seems to be struggling with this as I have been.

The solution...for the snowing to cease, but since I have no control over that I will just have get a hat with a brim.

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