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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A disney reference

Considering how I compared my life to a real-life woman of hollywood origins, I figured I better do one for a cartoon-life woman.

Wendy. She has so much fun flying around with Peter Pan and the lost boys. Adventure after adventure with a boy of joy and excitement. A boy who never wants to grow up.

Okay. Impossible physically but terribly possible emotionally/mentally/spiritually/grammatically, to stay in that youthful state. I honestly always think that there will be a part of me that will never grow up, that side of me that will be competitive to a fault, silly beyond all reason, and crazy when chocolate is in the system. But on the flip side not growing up can be seriously detrimental to your mental health! Let's consider.

There is a time and a place for everything. The learning curve is weighted towards the younger years. With our brains on the developmental pathway, we literally determine the amount of intelligence we will have by how much we learn during this period. However, I think that the type of learning changes with the amount of maturity reached. We find that we like certain things, we learn a certain way, and so we set our feet on another path of learning, a path of purpose. Now kids a lot of times don't really have a purpose to their learning. They just soak up whatever comes. The purpose comes with the maturity. That is a higher level of learning and so to stay in that child-like state, you can learn and learn as much as your brain can hold BUT you will never have that purpose.

Back to comparison. I have found that I truly have trouble with the idea of growing up. It is freakin scary. When my original graduation date came up (before I changed my major) I was a panicky mess. A hot panicky mess but a mess none-the-less. Wendy had loads of fun on their adventure to Neverland but when it came down to actually staying in Neverland versus going and growing up, she chose the latter. I have a lot of decisions like that to make in my life right now and I am back to the hot mess situation again. I have to decide where my life will go when that moment comes that I must either decide to stay in Neverland or to grow up. 

I'm really thinking that growing up is my next adventure. sigh.

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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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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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Dream big

Dreams, butterflies in the azure sky. Floating, lilting, playing in the soft downy clouds. Beautiful bright colors gleaming on their backs in the morning sun's rays. Nothing can reach them but a child on wings. Children are their caretakers, treating their fragile wings with gentle care and love.

Adults stay to the hard, cold ground to which they cling. They're really grown up caretakers that have stopped using their wings and grasped 'reality' tightly in their fists. Fear guides them now.

One such grownup child sits. She is small and few take notice of her. Her wings are broken. Her's is a lucky story however. She can still see the butterflies and her own wings. Most grownup children forget to look for either of them anymore.

Everyday she stares with hope and yearning at the beautiful orange butterfly dancing above her little spot on the ground. So close and yet so very far away. Her eyes shining and sparkling she beckons her desired treasure near. But it will not do. Dreams cannot get that close to the ground or they will die. And so each sunset ends with tears of sadness.

A little blond child stops and watches her reaching skyward with curiosity and compassion on his little smudged face. Gallantly, he offers his wings to her. Her excitement is beyond belief. She doesn't even notice his tattered clothes and matted hair.

She leaps into the blue. Her day in the sky is magical. She dances around clouds and amidst oceans of dreams and laughter. Her special friend is the little orange butterfly perched on her slight shoulder. Even as midnight colors and bright twinkling fairies blanket the sky, she wants to stay but the nice little boy must be missing his wings. She drifts down on fluttering wings to where he sits. His face is beloved to her now and always will be. With tears in her eyes she carefully hands the precious wings back to her savior. He kindly accepts.

He hands her wings to her. They are no longer broken. He has fixed them just for her. She wraps her arms around him in the best hug she has ever given. A small movement catches her eye. The little orange butterfly is falling to the ground from her shoulder.

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Book covers and what's inside

The Master Librarian always says, "Never judge a book by its cover." The hard part is there are so many attractive covers. They look so enticing and exciting. Most of the other book covers are mediocre and thus just beyond my notice. Not that I judge them for it. Just ignore them. A few grab my attention because of their atrocious looking covers. I definitely judge those and I think those are the ones He's talking about. But there can't be much to love inside their covers when they look like that.

I peruse the selection of new books before me. I sort them according to their title and on a smaller level their state of attractiveness. Humming as I finish my job there in the library, the Master Librarian walks up behind me and watches my work silently. I hardly ever see Him even though He's always there.

My sorting is getting more liberal. His presence somehow makes my eyes see differently. Some books look precious to me despite the raggedy appearance. I feel his attention move to the previously sorted books. I can feel the prickle of guilt start inside my gut.

"Never judge a book by its cover, Little One." My cheeks burn as I go back through the piles and rearrange their order. I must see what is inside them before I can decide their place in the library. Some of the prettier ones have horrible things inside them. I'm horrified! Many of the uglier ones are so beautiful on the inside. Some of them I sit in wonder for hours staring at what I see inside them. A quiet nagging starts in the back of my brain.

One book sits in the back corner of the library. I do my very best to never touch it. Or dust it. Or come near it. That book has been there for a long time. I've never liked the look of it. It always made me mad to look at it. Sometimes I couldn't understand why the Master Librarian would make these kinds of books.

I look to His face. He knows where my thoughts have wandered. Suddenly I know that He took great care to put that book together and it hurts him when I avoid that book so much. I hang my head in shame.

Once alone again, I wander over. The book is dusted over and just as hideous to me as ever.

I gingerly pick it up. The book seems eager to open up to me. What an odd sensation to get from a book. I open the once repulsive cover. Wonder and amazement flood my entire being. Why hadn't I opened it before? Sadness replaces my feelings of awe. How lonely it must've been because of my aversion.

It took me a long time to see and it will take me even longer to learn to "Never judge a book by its cover."

An age old phrase 'Never judge a book by its cover.' Repetition usually denotes a valued lesson...it always falls on deaf ears. Learning often involves mistakes in retrospect. But those are the hardest lessons to learn. Regret is often their companion. But they stick longer.

Snap judgments can last a lifetime. And thankfully the Lord showed me the truth. All the bad thoughts, the misconceptions meant nothing to me. I was shown the soul of someone I had deemed unworthy of my love and compassion. But that was the biggest lie I told myself. They needed that part of me more than anything else I could've given. I realize all the little mistakes through the many years I've known them that had I saved judgment for later I might've made their journey a little lighter, a little happier.

To have a friend in someone who needs a friend so badly, is probably the most fulfilling role a person can fill. Hopefully I'm big enough to fill it this time.

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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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Finding myself: Part animal

I'm a child of impulse. As such I throw cares to the wind. My nature compels me to whimsical and lively activities. Life needs to be lived. Anytime in my life, when I've let an opportunity pass me by, I've looked back with regret. I am finding that although the activities I participate in bring only temporal happiness, by doing them, I become closer to finding my elusive self. These are what makes the road to eternal joy more passable.

Never has there ever been a moment in my life that I haven't wanted to own a horse. As a child I used to watch horses move with amazement. Grace, power, and beauty all mixed into one four-legged creature. They are "the most beautiful, the most spirited and the most inspiring creature ever to print foot on the grasses of America." (1)

kiddo leading Ro...

A 3 year old bay Quarter horse, Ro came to me as a bag of bones with a wild look in her eyes. Because of my starry-eyed ideas of what owning a horse entailed, Ro was given to me for free. I jumped on the chance to own my very own horse. (don't be deceived by the picture...she can be a little snot)

Now...something you need to know about me is...I am weird. To most of you this isn't news. Well as a child, I had a harder time harnessing the weirdness in me. I loved the idea of horses so much, that I contorted my hands into horses. (Middle finger = head and neck. Pointer / ring fingers = front legs. Thumb / pinky = back legs.) And... I became quite proficient at moving around on my hands and knees. I'm well known in the minds of children as the perfect horsey.

My arm and Rikki...

Rikki. My little pal. An Aussie/Lab/Collie mix, she has the same pursuit of happiness that I have always had. Always curious, full of energy, bubbling with happiness, and a natural-born soccer player, Rikki and I get along real swell.

As a side note, I've always been the "Can we keep it Mommy?" type of kid. I brought home frogs, big bugs, hurt birds (doves, hummingbirds), captured rodents, mother-repellent reptiles, scraggly looking stray cats, occasional salamanders, handfuls of potato bugs/millipedes, recovering chickens, you name it. If it crawled, I snatched it up. I had a soft spot in my heart for the homeless animals and still do. To my mother's consternation, I continue to bring home any strays (Ro, Rikki, Red, cats, tried for a baby goat the other day...) that come my way. 

Next time...Looks for myself: Hair Part

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Leaning tower of bracelette

I am a bracelet queen. Bracelets are kind of my thing. If it's roundish and fits my wrist...I'll take it. I've been told that because of this fetish I am a hippy child. Whatever the reason, I wear a menagerie of bangles on my wrists, heavy on the left side. These make up only half of the bracelets in my ownership.

From top to bottom:

• EFX neoprene surfer's band
• A large colorful handful of crazy bands, shapes include: unicorns, fairies, magic lamps, dragons.
• Some fake, but really sweet pearl bracelets
• Two Support The Troops bands
• Awesome sauce handmade Argentinian bracelet
• A wire and rubberband made by Tanner Lewis
• Slap bracelet with "I <3 JESUS" found in the Joann's parking lot
• Polar plunge bracelet from doing the 2011 polar plunge
• Another pearl bracelet...separated from the others
• Bridgerland Applied Technology College memo band (my place of employment)
• Green and purple pipe cleaner bracelet made by yours truly
• Big thick green PEACE bracelet attained from Rue 21
• A fantastic Green Earth band
• Lots of turquoise beady bracelets

As you can see in the picture I also have another bracelet taking residence on my wrist. A double EFX band for balance and serenity.

The bracelets that have permanent residency on my wrist: a baseball seam tied to fit my wrist from a baseball in a park, a horse hair bracelet from my horse Rho, usually a hair band for wayward hair, and a friendship bracelet I made for myself. I have multiple bands for charities and causes that occupy my jewelry box at home. And I just made a purchase of rope bracelets from Downeast Basic. I plan to continue to add to my already abundant collection of bracelets and bands and bangles until I feel that it is complete.

Which will be never.

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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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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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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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Less timeless

I haven*t been here long. 

Just a little over a fifth of a century really. It*s timeless to me because it*s all I*ve ever known. I don*t have a specific beginning point to my memories; merely snippets of my past that shimmer in my conscious. It*s surprising that I remember as much as I do. So much happens in one day. More often than not; there isn*t enough time for it all.

In retrospect; time goes by like a pinprick. At the moment; it certainly doesn*t feel like it is. This is where regret falls. Maybe time isn*t as timeless as it used to be before. The closer I come to the literal meaning of mortality; the more I appreciate the time that has been allotted me. 

No matter how much I appreciate it though; it still has a way of slipping away.

So many silly aspirations flit about in my dreams. I hardly ever act on them. Fear. Doubt. Pain. I know I forget to live my life for fear of losing or for fear of change. Whatever the case may be; I feel like in all the 21 years I*ve been on this planet; I still haven*t lived the fullest life that I am able. I*m not a fearful person by nature. Any fear I may have; comes at another*s bequest. I*m really quite optimistic and laid back about everything. Which has proven quite worrisome to my parents many a time.

Time. What a small word for such an altering constituent of life. The best moments in mine; are the moments that I*ve spent doing what I love.

I love being with my family. But you and I both know that there is never enough time spent doing that. Every time I*m with them; I can be myself. No pretending; no facade; no tough face. But this is where life throws its curve. I never feel like I measure up. In a family where the genius and talented gene runs rampant; I never feel like I have anything to offer to the family name. I*m not dumb nor talentless; but my progress in life has been halted many times because of my fear of failure when compared to any of them. I wish that I hadn*t let all that time go to waste worrying about it because then I would have so much more confidence in myself whether or not failure was the end result.

Having so little confidence in myself; I can*t stand the thought of people thinking badly of me and that is my worst fear. Fear. It holds me back every time; even when I know it is ridiculously futile. 

If I spent more time doing things just for the heck of it; doing what I want to do; and less time fretting about others* opinions of me; I wouldn*t have so many retrospect regrets.

Fact; time isn*t long enough. But...

would I take the best advantage of it if it were?

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Passersby

There isn*t much to be said about walking past people; except that it can be extremely awkward. I*ve noticed with all of my experience in passing people in the street or on campus; that most are no good at the whole passing thing. There isn*t any literature or written code on the passersby etiquette but it would seem that there are many rules; do nots; and many amendments to top it all off. The amount of thought that each person has to put into merely walking past someone else is enough to make one*s head spin.

My most favorite is the not-supposed-to-walk-on-the-same-side-of-the-road unspoken rule. When walking down the street if there is a person on the same side coming towards you; inevitably they have to get to the other side of the road; immediately or as quickly as possible. The thoughts that roll through my mind include: 

• *Do I reek so badly that it has wafted all the way down to them already?*
• *Would fatal collision have been certain had we both continued on the same side of the road?*
• *Do they know something about me that they shouldn't?*
• *Probably just couldn't handle walking past the awesomeness and attractiveness that is me.*
• *Does my bed hair look atrocious and they don't want to have to hide their sniggering?*

The next unspoken rule on my favorites list is the don*t-smile-because-it-might-not-be-reciprocated -and-then-things-could-get-really-awkward rule. Come on peeps. Show them pearls off. Every time we pass someone; it is our mini audition as a smile model.
 

Absolutely-positively-NO-communication-whatsoever-or-you-will-DIE rule is steadily making its way up on my favorite unspoken rules list. I believe that this is proof of digression in our species. The grunts from pre-homo erectus are even non-existent in the passersby*s world. Communication was a big thing back in the day. Since we can't seem to stay away from the 60s hippy-isms; the 70s dancing; the 80s clothes; and the 90s hair; why not yesterdays communication? Saying hello to someone hasn't killed anyone yet and if it has; it is a very tiny number; not likely to happen to anyone we know.

My cousin touched on this next unspoken rule in her blog. The must-walk-on-the-right-side-of-the-sidewalk rule. It*s good to know that all of us are good enough drivers to apply the traffic idea to the sidewalk. It does make the flow of passing people so much flowier. However; in many cases people will go out of their way to make sure that you do not pass them on the wrong (left) side. 

Another unspoken rule on my list is the you-can-move-out-of-my-way-because-I-obviously-have-the-right-of-way-in-this-situation rule. This one is especially fun in the winter time when the sidewalks haven*t been shoveled yet so there is only the path where many shoes have walked. Because of the limited space for your feet; besides the perfectly good snow banks on either side that will instantly soak anyone to the bone. But there's always the person who walks like a Viking; tall and strong and true and completely unyielding; even if they have a small pullover space close by. 

I face these dilemmas every day as I pass many people walking to and from classes and work and home. There are so many little subtleties to the passersby etiquette. I haven*t even covered all the the little unspoken rules of passing people such as the hurry-and-pass-someone-from-behind-while-looking-at-*something*-very-interesting-on-the-other-side rule or the they-just-slipped-but-I*m-going-to-pretend-that-I-didn*t-see rule. 

I'm sure that we all know the feeling of passing someone and putting WAY too much thought into what we should do.

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To the finish

Life is full of endings. It starts with an ending and we finish it off with the ultimate ending. Some endings are happy. Some endings are sad. Some endings are triumphant. Some endings are of defeat. And perhaps there are endings, that aren't endings at all. Maybe there isn't any such thing as endings but perhaps, merely chapters.

A book more often than not, follows the storyline of one hero or heroine. There are many characters along the story. Many come and go in the story's line of sight but that does not mean that that is their ending. We simply cannot follow their story at the same time as our hero or heroine's. And the end of the chapter isn't the end of the story by any means. Even the end of the book isn't an ending. It is where the story teller simply wrote a conclusion and stopped telling the story.

An even more drastic ending...a head stone to a grave. Sometimes they tell the story of the person that lies beneath them but always is written the start and stop of their time on the earth. We don't know the continuation of their story because the Great Storyteller stopped telling us their story. Instead of endings, perhaps we should call them finishes. It was the finish of the story at the end of the book. It is the finish of mortal life on the earth when we die. There is never an ending because there is always more to the story and there always will be.

Life is full of finishes. It starts with a finish and it ends with the ultimate finish. Some finishes are happy. Some finishes are sad. Some finishes are triumphant. Some finishes are of defeat. And perhaps there are finishes, that aren't finishes at all...

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