Poetry and musings of a zany Mormon girl who is very proud of her Erda roots.

Wednesday, December 16, 2009

Great Gushing Giggles!

Giggles gush from children’s smiles as they pretend to listen to an ardent adult about dreary facts from dusty old oratories.

Gentle reprimands generally work to silence the little laughs, but today the tykes control side conversations as grown-ups giggle too.

Do you see it there? Under the lecturer’s lean lectern is a slithering stripped snake rubber replica!

Soon the stalwart speaker will notice the muffled mirth and survey the ruffled room in silence.

Suspicious eyes will spark and light upon the lithe rubber replica supposing it to be real.

Children chatter, audaciously anxious for a scrumptious scream to echo through the hallowed hall.

When the narrow-eyed narrator finally finds the cause of the commotion, it is not a yelp that escapes his lips, but a light laugh!

With a jolly jiggle around his middle, the giggle grows into a tidal wave of merry mirth that sweeps the sacred surroundings from floor to ceiling, contagious to the congregation.

Side-splitting laughter causes adults and children alike to roll on the floor in riotous reaction to the snake sighting!

All at once, the giggles are gone. Smiles still tickle twinkling eyes and bellies bounce with suppressed silliness, but the moment has passed at the preacher proceeds.

Until one small boy, way in the back, behind the last proud pillar produces a pack of pink whoopee cushions for the congregation. . .

Pool of the Toads

When I was a kid, we were so poor that my dad dug a hole in the back yard, lined it in thick, black plastic, stuck an electric fence all around and called it a swimming pool.

I don't remember if it was *actually* an electric fence, but I do remember being terrified of climbing it, or getting too close to it, or generally touching it at all. My parents may have lied to me about being electrocuted by the fence if any unsupervised swimming practices were floating through my five-year-old brain.

In any case, that little pool was awesome! Black plastic absorbs sunlight, so we had a solar heated pool! One side of the pool featured stair-steps of compact earth under the plastic which made a great place to lean back and relax in the warm water or to balance on while learning to kick in the water. I learned to dog paddle. It's the only swim stroke I know.

We would bask in the bathtub-warm water and watch the sunset. My older brother and sister (Numbers Two and One, respectfully) would push dead june bugs floating on the surface of the water toward me and shriek with delight as I'd shriek in abject terror. We'd just sit and listen to the cicadas and crickets chirp as the lightning bugs blinked on and off, on and off. Ahhh, lazy days of summer -- to be a child again with no concept of vacations.

Before the city made us fill in the pool/hole, it served as a haven for local toads in the Autumn.

These toads were our friends.

Each of us kids had an individual toad that was our special pet.

We tried getting warts from them, kissing them into princes, holding onto them for as long as possible, and generally anything that wouldn't kill the toad.

We were raised with a healthy respect for all forms of life. We were far more prone to save the little animals and whatnot instead of killing them. Remind me to tell you about the baby birds, kittens, raccoons, and caterpillars some time. Except . . . there was that one apple tree that only gave rotten fruit we tried to kill by skinning all of the bark off. Hmmm, I guess there were also the slugs that got salted, bees that were routinely sprayed, and flies I used to squash between the window and roll-down curtain. Ah, well those things deserved it; we really were raised with respect for life.

The toads came around the same time I got a book of reptiles and amphibians on a once-in-a-blue-moon trip to the bookstore. I loved staring at that book and reading up on weird things like two-headed salamanders. I learned as much as I could about toads from that book, grabbed a clean plastic container from the kitchen, punctured air holes into the lid, placed down a little grass, and shoved a toad inside for show and tell in the morning before school. I'm sure my first grade class didn't think the toad was nearly as cool as I did. But I recited my facts about toads anyway and included speculations about what species of toad I had found in our swimming pool. Towards the end of my presenation, the toad did something I wasn't expecting.

It peed on me.

A sticky stream of slime squirted out of the creature and coated my hand. Quickly shoving the toad back in it's plastic jail and securing the lid, I acted nonchalant as I strode over to the classroom sink saying something about how they pee sometimes. Applying liberal amounts of soap, I attempted to scrub the toad ick off of me but to no avail. That toad had been seriously put out when it did it's business all over me. I had toad on me for the rest of the day and avoided using my hand for anything non-critical.

That should have been the last time I played with toads but I'm sure it wasn't. I took the show-and-tell toad home, let it out into the wild, and was upset when I didn't ever see that exact toad ever again.

Sometimes when you really like something/someone and it/he/she doesn't like you back and tries to tell you in no uncertain terms how ardently they loath your very presence, you should listen to them and not parade them in front of your friends as your new pet. Lesson learned the hard way.

Tuesday, December 15, 2009

When I was a kid, we were so poor that we didn't have television for a looooong time.

Actually, we didn't have television because my dad took our color TV and tiny black and white TV down to the coal room (it was a scary dirt-floored room in our basement where coal was delivered through a chute in the wall back when the old, old house was heated with black lumps of ancient organic material). He took a sledge hammer with him. And his feet. He hammered and stomped those televisions until they were unusable. He did this because he was watching too much TV and not being productive. (Someone probably mouthed off about something and send Dad into a fit that could only be quenched by destroying media devices. I really don't know, I'm just speculating here. I was about six when it happened.)

In any case, we didn't have television for a good chunk of my early years.

Instead, I developed an imagination full of things I'd read in books, thought about until finding some sort of logic, learned while asking questions, and just generally imagined for myself.

There were elves in our blackberry bushes, villages of acorn people, fairies in the dormant apricot tree and the thick patches of lush, green clover. I was a gymnast when perched on top of the clothes line post, and an adventurer when climbing to the top of the MAMMOTH tree that was taller than our two-story house. At the very top, one could see the out as far as the rail road station in the north, past the factory to the east, across the neighborhood in the south, and nearly to the silvery glints of the Mighty Mississippi in the west.

I'd also imagine dead bodies under bushes and murdering kidnappers in slow-moving vehicles. (That was the influence of "Unsolved Mysteries" from when we had television.)

I consider growing up sans television to have been a good experience. When we finally got a small television/VCR to take on a road trip from Illinois to Oregon, life was a little more mundane. After school and on Saturday mornings, we'd huddle around the 8 inch screen to watch one of the three channels we could get -- soaking up the flickering lights like moths on the back porch in summer time.

This post really had no point. I was just remembering life with no media influence. Back when borrowing a TV and VCR to watch a rented tape was the pinnacle of joy. We now have two bona-fide televisions complete with DVD players and a huge projector and screen complete with PS3 Blue ray and half a dozen other interesting things attached to make life more fun.

My little brothers and sisters grew up in a much different household than my older siblings and I.

Let's Ride Bikes!

When I was a kid, we were so poor my parent's couldn't afford to outfit us all with bikes. However, we were also fortunate. My dad worked for a small electronics's company which rented office space in the basement of a bank.

This bank was robbed once while my dad was working there. He had to hide under his desk while the thief-turned-murderer stalked the basement looking for an exit.

In any case, some kind soul dropped off several old bikes at the bank parking lot and my dad took them home for us kids. They were at least 15 years old by the time we got them. At least. Banana seats and high handle bars suggest 20 years old, but I'm not a children's bike historian, so it's really any one's guess.

These bikes were so cool!

We lived in a very quiet neighborhood that only experienced traffic twice a day -- during Shift Change Time. 5am and 3pm. The rest of the time, we were pretty much free to roam around the block on our bikes.

After casing the safety gravel alleyway a few times, I'd generally work up the courage to go onto the street. Our school system was very pro-safety and I learned how to signal on a bike before I'd learning to ride. So, with arms waving in precise motions, I'd trek out onto the road. Down the hill, down Cedar Street, up the hill, back to the ally. Over and over. When I felt particularly brave and confident, I'd sometimes go one more street down or up. I'd always try to get as much speed as possible heading down the hill. That was the best!

We lived in a house sitting on the top of a slope. Our back yard was level with the house, but our front lawn featured a big dip down the the street as did our drive way. It was great fun to go sledding on the lawn in the winter time and flying down the drive way on bikes in the summer. One such summer afternoon saw me perched on my banana-seated tall-handle-bar-sporting bike at the top of the drive way. I pedaled hard for a few feet to work up momentum before the hill took over. By the end of the driveway, I'd lost control of the pedals and had my legs stretched straight in front of the bike to avoid being ripped apart by the wildly rotating rouge pedals. Completely absorbed with attempting to regain control of my vehicle, I didn't realize that another vehicle was right in front of me until moments before I smashed into its side. It was my neighbor's parked car, pulled next to the curb across the street.

I was so grateful for that car!

It stopped me from running into the curb and being thrown from my bike -- which probably would have resulted in a trip to the doctor's office. The rubber on my tall handle bars made contact with the door of the car first, simultaneously spinning me around and slowing me down so that I would bump the vehicle instead of the metal frame of the bike. I left no dent or scratch on the car and came away with only minor bruising and an intense lack of enthusiasm for the remainder of my bike ride, which was very short.

This left an impression on me, though. To be doing something reckless and to be saved -- painfully -- by something best avoided.

Sometimes salvation comes from an unexpected source.

Fly Like an Eagle

When I was a kid, we were so poor my mom wouldn't buy us a trampoline. Instead, we propped up a 2x6 on two cinder blocks and bounced up and down.

We got just enough air that it was exhilarating!

It was close to the ground so Mom didn't worry too much about broken necks.

We could only fit a few people on at a time so we were forced to share.

It was too narrow to actually do any flips. Not that I wanted to even try flips on a 2x6. One time I attempted a back flip on the lush green grass. It started out so exciting! I was sure that it would be easy and I'd just be able to do it on the first try so I didn't put any thought into where to put my legs. Halfway through the flip I realized my ignorance of flippage and panicked. The last half of the flip was spent flailing. The ending of the flip saw me flat on my back and the air knocked out of my lungs with such force that my diaphragm spasmed and I couldn't take breath for a good 45 seconds or so. I just lay there thinking, "I'm dying! Ouch! Someone needs to save me! Ouch!"

Hahahahahahahaha! I'm crying tears of mirth!

In any case, flips were flat OUT on the bouncy board.

It was the '90's and the Steve Miller Band's song "Fly Like an Eagle" was a super hit! We'd bounce on our fake trampoline and sing the chorus over and over again as we soared (about two feet!) into the sky.

This year is nearly over because:

Time keeps on slippin', slippin', slippin'
Into the future
Time keeps on slippin', slippin', slippin'
Into the future

And next year all I can think of is how:

I want to fly like an eagle
To the sea
Fly like an eagle
Let my spirit carry me
I want to fly like an eagle
Till I'm free
Oh, Lord, through the revolution
Feed the babies
Who don't have enough to eat
Shoe the children
With no shoes on their feet
House the people
Livin' in the street
Oh, oh, there's a solution
I want to fly like an eagle
To the sea
Fly like an eagle
Let my spirit carry me
I want to fly like an eagle
Till I'm free
Fly through the revolution
Time keeps on slippin', slippin', slippin'
Into the future
Time keeps on slippin', slippin', slippin'
Into the future
Time keeps on slippin', slippin', slippin'
Into the future
Time keeps on slippin', slippin', slippin'
Into the future
I want to fly like an eagle
To the sea
Fly like an eagle
Let my spirit carry me
I want to fly like an eagle
Till I'm free
Fly through the revolution
Time keeps on slippin', slippin', slippin'
Into the future
Time keeps on slippin', slippin', slippin'
Into the future

Thursday, December 10, 2009


Tobaco spit stinks.

I like my hair short. I can swish it.

Enormous belly buttons really freak me out! I saw a "clown" once at the circus with a belly button the size, shape, and appearance of a hot cross bun. Complete with X-marks-the-spot smack dab in the middle.

I think turtles are cute.

Although my neck is really short and thick, it sometimes displays delicate musculature that makes me feel sexy.

I really want some Le Creuset crockery. It is so beautiful!

My dad regularly tells me that fornication is fun and I ought to be participating.
He's just teasing.
I think.

If I were a fruit, I'd be an apple. Sweet, tart, round, and makes an awesome cream cheese apple turnover. Mmmmm!

I would love to have a child with red hair. I've wanted one since I was five years old.

I do not like store bought chocolate milk, pudding, or ice cream. The cheap chocolate flavor puts me off.

I wonder what it feels like to fly.

Warm Body

I was just reading over some of my favorite blogs and I found this post from a few months ago: http://noellc.blogspot.com/2009/09/all-single-ladies.html.

It led me to think about the philosophy of relationships for what they're worth.

It has been said that love is a 50-50 game of give and take. Sometimes you need to be giving 100% because your partner needs you and sometime you need to receive 100% support because you need him/her. Sometimes you need to compromise what you want for the benefit of the relationship and what your partner needs. It evens out over a life time.

That being said, settling never was compromise. Settling is the prostitution of your pride to the lowest bidder. It's giving up your right to be genuinely appreciated and understood for the fleeting comfort of a warm body and a few laughs.

Just remember, time is relative. Your soul has eternity to find its mate.

These are thoughts that have been slowly solidifying for me over the last ten years as I've gone through the teenage armpit of life and have proceeded into my early twenties. Just five years ago I was so emotionally withdrawn from the world that I could not imagine an existence where someone would want to date me. I know this sounds weird -- dating is easy, right? Although I could easily visualize the happy glow of married life, rearing children, and growing old with some nondescript kindred spirit, images of the dating process and courtship were not part of my imaginary repertoire. I hit a wall built of terror and self doubt whenever I tried to peek at that part of my expectant life. This was seriously crippling. My sad, lame dating life was rendered worse than pathetic as it hobbled around on the crutch of self pity and fed me bon bons when I was alone on Friday nights getting fat and old. Only, my dating life was probably too catatonic to eat bon-bons and get fat -- it would have just let the bon-bons dribble down it's chin in a gooey mass of ick. Ew! I just grossed myself out!

So, I bewaied the fact that no one was ever blatantly interested in me and hosted pity parties every Friday night. Sans bon bons.

Then I made some changes.

Tired of looking in the mirror to see myself trapped in the eyes of a timid, lackluster somebody, I determined to break free and become someone worthy of notice.

My body was first, and easiest. A quick operation and I was a new person with more potential than I'd ever had before. I could breath. I could run. I could shop for regularly sized items that didn't require tailoring.

My mind set was a different matter. While I couldn't understand why someone would want to be around me, I knew that there were people I wanted to be around. People who made me feel good to be in their presence. People who accepted me in all my awkwardness and partial insanity. (They wouldn't have stuck around if they knew about the bon-bons.) I focused on letting each individual know how much I appreciated their association -- giving what I could of my self while asking for the kindness of friendship in return.

It was the acknowledgment of this give and take that finally helped me to realize that I had something unique to offer the world. I had myself. My real self. No longer imprisoned within the thick shell of ignorance of my own attributes, I was finally able to begin living.

That's when I started loving myself and gaining an understanding of my individual worth. And so I have determined to wait through the turmoil and bon bon inducing loneliness that occasionally accompanies single life.

It's not that I'm picky. It's because I know myself too well to be satisfied with just a warm body.

Wednesday, December 9, 2009


While I realize that not everyone likes snow, I am a big fan. I love the crisp, vibrant way the air glimmers after a storm. I love watching flurries dance on the wind settle into thick piles on the ground, trees, buildings, and eyelashes of those viewing their performance. I love how it takes a long time for snow to accumulate on the surface of roads and disappears as soon as a flake touches down.

I love the silence of snow. All the world seems to cozy up inside some type of burrow and the regular sounds of nature cease to pay tribute to the awesome power of snow.

My favorite type of snow only happens when it is truly cold outside. When the sky turns dappled and gray, and the air sings with chill. Then the snow flakes come down as large, individual, perfect crystals. Each flake stacks up on the ground and makes the perfect powder. The kind of powder that easily brushes off of coats but completely frosts your exposed hair or fur trim. And the crunch! This snow is dry with plenty of air caught up in between each flake. Each step begins as an adventure on a pillow-soft cloud of white and results in a satisfying "crunch!" as all of the layers are compressed. It is, consequently, the best for winter sports.

My very favorite thing about snow is that after becoming deliciously cold you can hang up your outdoor clothes, don a thick pair of socks, and snuggle up to someone warm with a hot mug of something sweet and just watch the magic from the comfortable side of a glass pane.

Monday, November 23, 2009


Butterly wings fluttering in the wind
Tiny wrinkles
Golden coins atop withered fingers
Highly valued
Fairy waifs dancing to the earth
Delicate and lovely
That's when I. . .


Sunday, November 22, 2009


For the last three weeks I have found Sacrament meeting to be impossible to sit through.

It's not that I don't want to pay attention or because I'm too tired and would rather sleep or because the speakers are less than interesting.

No, it's because I get the giggles.

Growing up Frank used to torment me during Sacrament meeting. We always sat in the second row pew within perfect view of the bishopric. I wonder if that was an attempt on my parents part to keep us in line, as though they were silently telling the whole ward, "Stare at our kids and fwap them for us when they get out of line." In any case, Frank and I didn't get along during any day of the week so how could we be expected to paint a happy picture of sibling affection on the Sabbath? He would pick a stray hair off of my scalp and tickle my ear or nose. He would poke me. He would wiggle the hymn book when we shared. He would whisper things geared toward making me squeal with rage. I would pinch. I would slap. I would attempt to ignore. And finally, I would squeal with rage.

Something changed for Frank after returning from his mission; around the same time he started dating a lovely girl. He mellowed.

Something changed for me over the course of several years as I learned to express my emotions rather than hold them in; after I learned how to be sad and happy and angry rather than just an emotional hurricane. I learned to love who I am and accept my flaws. I learned to be the person I always saw trapped within my own eyes; to liberate the real me. I mellowed.

And, for the last three weeks I have had a very hard time paying attention during Sacrament meeting. I giggle. When Frank does something to keep up his childhood legacy, I giggle. When the child in the pew ahead of us does something adorable, I giggle. When those sitting next to me point out that the silent giggle rippling through my body has been transferred to their bodies, I giggle even harder.

I giggle so hard, I can't breathe.

I shake so hard, my abs hurt afterwards.

I'd much rather giggle than squeal in rage.

New Day Dawning

Gold light of morning filters through a crack in the wall.
Dust dances on the liquid shaft of light and I smile.
In my mind, a million miles away, I am happy.
In my mind, right here, I dance in the golden rays of the sun.
And I smile.
I’ve left behind the life I did not love and in its place I can replace my special place of golden light where dust dances on air and I am happy in my mind with my past far behind, a million miles behind.
Ahead of me is only air. The air I breathe; in and out with the happy rhythm of blood pumping through my veins to my heart.
I can see my heart dance under my skin as I lay here – still and quiet, focused only on the air going in and out of me; becoming part of me.
With my beating heart to set the tempo, I dance the dance of youth and sing the song of life.
I was born with this song and although I will not always dance, I will die with this song still resonating with the beat of my heart until that, like my youth, fades into oblivion.
Gold light changes with the morning, turning white -- but not less pure.
The day progresses, as days do, when all of a sudden it is night and my mind drifts into oblivion.
New day dawning gives me hope.
Today is a day for living and leaving the past behind – a million miles behind – and loving every heartbeat.
So I smile.

Thursday, November 19, 2009

Locked in for the Rescue

I've been having bad luck with locks recently.

Last Friday after dealing with a scary phone call, getting stuck on the I-15 Southbound for three hours due to a fatal car accident involving eight cars, "winning" in a tangle with another vehicle who thought she could share lanes with my 15 passenger van (first ever wreck with a moving vehicle), arriving at a 3:30pm lunch date at 5:30pm, discovering that none of my friends were home, watching a movie in a theatre alone (for the first time ever), I discovered that I had locked my keys in my car. In the ignition. And Provo cops can't help jimmy locks. And I have no clue what to do with a coat hanger besides unwind it and poke at my windows. And locksmiths are expensive!

I gave up trying to open it myself at 1:30am and passed out on Holly's couch.

In Holly's pjs.

With Holly's pillow.

Thanks Holly.

Saturday morning saw me up bright and early poking at my windows again as snowflakes chased one another and made toes cold. I was totally deflated by the time I broke down and called a friend for help. I was close to tears of frustration and self pity by the time he arrived. I was completely and utterly grateful when he was able to poke at my windows (in places I had deemed inopperable) and pop the lock, rescuing me from a fate of making faces at myself on the wrong side of the car door window, fashioning tiny snowmen all over my car, and writing messages to passersby in the snow on my windshield via the long coat hanger.

Thank you Josh!

He stuck the coat hanger under my van somewhere just in case I need it again. I just might. I tend to get locked out, stranded with a dead battery due to my inability to shut off the lights, or stuck with tire problems at least once every 3 months.

I tend to require rescuing at least once every 3 months.

At least.

This time it was less than a week later.

Last night I managed to successfully infiltrate the Murray Symphony 2nd Violin section (my first choice, but I like 1st Violins too) and get started on Handel's Messiah in time for the Christmas concert.

Ha ha! Victory is mine!

After a really good rehearsal (during which I played maybe 1/4 of the content because I've never read through the whole part before -- what I did play, was played with gusto!) I got a bit lost trying to find hall that led to the door that led to the parking lot, where sat my van. I got lost because someone had pulled a big metal grate over the hall intrance; the kind that they pull down over store fronts in malls after store hours to keep theaving theaves out at night. Considering my options in a huge school, wherein I was quicking becoming lost, I decided that the best choice would be to find a door that led outside and simply walk the parameter of the enormous school until I could figure out where I had left the van.

So, I found a door that led outside and walked through it.

After a few moments of walking around in the cold I realized that I had walked into a courtyard situated inside the school.

With no outlet.

And all of the doors were locked for the night.

And no one was left in the building to hear me pound on the doors.

So, I laughed at my reflection in the wrong side of the glass door and decided that hobo-ing it outside in a courtyard all night was not an option.

After calling home and letting my family laugh at me I dialed 911 (for the second time ever, the first time was after that car tried to share my lane and discovered that she couldn't). After attempting to explain to the opperator that I was locked inside a courtyard, I spoke with a nice police man who called another nice police man who opened a door. Just walked up and opened it. Pushed the dealy-bob and liberated me.

Thanks nice police man!

Sometimes we get stuck in less-than-ideal situations due to our own shortcomings (or forgetfulness) and need some help.

Sometimes we get stuck in impossible situations due to ignorance (or inattentiveness) and require some serious rescuing.


One thing I've learned again and again is that when these less-than-ideal or impossible situations arise, the only thing to do is to laugh at my reflection and ask for help.

If I Didn't Have To

Oh what I could do if I didn't go there!
I'd play, romp, run, jump with nary a care
Learn to sing the firefly's meandering tune
Take a walk to the the tall grass with only the moon
Or feast upon ice cream, cookies and treats
Watch television while snacking on sweets
Learn about calculus, poetry, and Latin
Painting, and dancing, and instrumentation
Football and tennis, soccer and ping pong
I'd do it all happily before very long!
I'd tame wild beasts with a wave of my hand
Or build a tall rocket to explore star-washed lands
Do you see all the things I could clearly accomplish
If I never went THERE as you so often admonish
The life of a genius may be tiring, I suppose
But I'll rejuvenate in my caffeine-washed clothes
Perhaps *yawn* for now, while I'm still very small
I'll allow you to change me *yawn* and try not to bawl
As you kiss me and tuck me under the sheet
With *yawn* fuzzy green PJ's with zippers and feet
All comfy and cozy a poofy pillow under head
I'll plan my adventures *yawn* for when I never have to go to bed

Monday, November 2, 2009


Forget the childhood fantasy
Life is harsh reality
Give up that to earn the other
Indecision brings bad weather
Churning, turning, changing wind
Forcing actions no will can bend
Choices are a patchwork quilt
Each tangled piece so dearly felt
As the reject slips from sight
The chosen choice is sewn so tight
No earthly powers can break the bond
Time’s antidote cannot be found

Wednesday, October 14, 2009

I love Wii and Blee!

Last night I was methodically smashing Coms’ pants off on Marioparty 8 all by my lonesome and wracking up gold coins and stars like no one’s business!

All of a sudden I was no longer alone and found myself playing Princess Peach against Blee’s Dry Bones. (I like Peach because she accessorizes and doesn’t say annoying things like Daisy.)

We were playing a dueling game set and everything was going grand when he decided to eat his Bollo candy and rolled right over me. All of my gold coins disappeared into the nothingness of having been smashed.


To make it up to me he sweetly wasted twenty of his gold coins on candy at the next candy shop, thereby giving up his ability to buy the winning gold star. To even the playing field, he said.

A series of minigames, rearrangements of the playing board, and dumb luck ended up giving me the winning combination of gold coins, position, and rolls of the dice.

Huzzah for victory!

You see, Billy boy has caught on to the one major rule of living with women: we always win. Whether at being “right,” knowing where to find the cheapest whatever (or best deal, because sometimes quality over quantity really is the steadfast rule), or at being the fairest in all the land.

So, here’s a gold star just for you Blee; because you know how to keep a lady happy.

Thursday, October 8, 2009

Tender Mercies

Today my mom called me.

Since getting my first cell phone three years ago talking to my mom has been a nearly daily occurance. We talked about the house plans. We talked about food. We talked about the family. We talked about work. We talked about school. We talked about movies, vacations, and books. We pretty much talked about everything. We got mad at each other. We laughed.


Even when I didn't have time to talk or didn't have words to say or didn't want to share how I felt about things. We talked.

My parents left on a business trip to Europe last Friday. They called the next day at 6am when everyone was sleeping and Dad left a voice mail pretending to be a ghost having perished in a plane crash. That was the last I heard from them.

I've missed them. I mentioned it to Lorri, who has been talking to them. Daily. She passed the message on and mom called me this morning!

She had perfect timing. The van I take to work every morning meets in a UTA parking lot and we leave at 5:40 every morning. This morning they were about 15 minutes late. Mom called right as I was parking at 5:37. I got to talk to her until my van came and until her ride came to get her on the other side of the world.

Perfect timing.

It made me loved and comforted and happy in one fell swoop. Tender Mercies of the Lord.

I love my parents.

Monday, October 5, 2009


I wait all year for the arrival of one month. The best month. October!

Crisp, cool air.

Tart apple cider.

Rich, full pumpkin masterpieces with a dash of cinnamon and a pinch of ginger.

Pumpkin Patches!

And my very favorite holliday: Halloween! What more can you ask of a celebration? Costumes, free candy, vibrant colors, pumpkin chocolate chip cookies, bon fires, Frightmares at Lagoon, spooks, fairy tales incarnate, late night storms, the first frost, plaid, suede shoes. . . and did I mention; free candy and costumes!!

Love, love, love this time of year!!

Sunday, August 2, 2009


This weekend has been chocked full of *things* -- lots going on!

-- We almost gave up the van to get a brand-spanking new Prius . . . but then the deal fell through when the dealership wouldn't budge a bit on the price after inflating it with crazy stuff and charging extra. So now I have the van back. (I'm sort of glad because I've never driven a brand new vehicle and I find the thought intimidating. Not only that, but, I need the van to transport things for Camp Kesem in TWO WEEKS! *eek!*)

-- Got hit on by a teenager at Sonic's at midnight.
-- I was invited on a float trip in the Provo River and ended up with a touch of hypothermia, heat stroke, a really bad sunburn, and ants in my pants to do it again! (Planning on doing it in September :-)

-- Tried to go to a party by the lake and ended up lost two or three times, stuck between parked cars two or three times, and was called a bad name. The party was lame and I was in pain so we drove off before it finally came to an end.
-- Went to the Weeping Elm in down-town Provo at 1am.
-- Became privy to the existance of the rockn' nightlife of Provo teens in the Big Lots parking lot at 2am.
-- Nearly stole from Wal-Mart. (I went back and paid for it, I promise.)
-- Spent more than $200 on Oriental Trading stuff for Camp Kesem. :-P

-- Tried to sleep in and failed. . . twice.
-- Decided it was easier to love everyone in the world and laugh at myself than get upset while in a tight space.

Yellow daisies in a warm meadow
Covered by the brilliant sun
Sleeping in the cool, green clover
Loving the world
Everyone in the world
Without difficulty

Saturday, July 11, 2009

Hot and Twenty-two

My job often gives me the opportunity to meet people from all over the United States. In June I had the pleasure of meeting an entertaining group of cops from the South.

They took up bets guessing my age and pestered me to tell how old I am until I gave in. Upon discovering the truth they confessed that they thought I was anywhere from 19 to 24.

Not bad.

One gentleman exclaimed, "Oooh-whee! You're hot and twenty-two, mmmmm-hmmmm!"

It was then insisted upon that I take photos with the group so they could remember the fun we had.

Made my day when it happened and makes me smile to think of it.

Twenty Two
January 20, 2009

I am twenty two and so solitarily single it is a shame
This is the year for self renovation, to tear down the old in favor of the new
And really reach the sleeping potential I have always carried inside
This is the year to finally experience what it is to be alive
To live in the moment, to choose kindness in favor of being brash
To partake, but not to excess, to look but not to stare
Or, perhaps I will stare and invite a stare in return

I am twenty two and terrifyingly tempting
To the point that all young men cover their slavering tongues
And run for shame of their own naked desires
Or so I must conclude, for there are none beside me
Perhaps it is not my beauty that frightens them away
But my boldness, gentleness, tactlessness, wit and humility
My endless talents and talentless ends

I am twenty two and quite at odds with the world
Help the children, save the earth, limit preservatives
Stay up late and paint the moon a million shades
Brighter than its own natural, illuminatory pale
And never regret a moment of happiness
A moment of sadness, ecstasy, or despair
Because I am twenty two and I know myself.

Friday, July 3, 2009

25 Things About Yours Truely

This is something I put together some time ago in response to a Facebook craze. I generally abstain from Facebook crazes (I started Facebooking back when only college students could get accounts and it was just a networking site for sharing photos and sending quick messages; before superpoke, before advertisements, and way before the crazy applications). This one, however, reached out to me after I partook in the fruits of my friends's labor and lives and loves. So, here it is: 25 things about me taken directly from my Facebook notes.

1. Nearly none of my socks are just “white.” I have socks for nearly every holiday as well as just some plain old randomly decorated socks. My least favorite are the kissing snowmen socks – I think I got rid of them. My favorite are the fall leaves socks.
2. My favorite season is autumn.
3. I love the smell and sound of crunchy leaves.
4. I love the way the wind feels.
5. Halloween is my favorite because it’s the one night of the year when pumpkins rule and you can dress up as anything you have ever wanted to be. Plus, free candy from strangers – how cool is that?!
6. I write poems when sad or angry or in a goofy mood so all of my poetry is kind of weird.
7. I have wanted to be a doctor ever since I can remember – literally. I can remember being three and asking my mom where food goes once it’s swallowed and being completely fascinated by her explanation.
8. I stopped smiling when I was ten and had to learn how again when I was 16.
9. I was so painfully shy through high school that I was always surprised when anyone spoke to me because I thought that I had actually achieved invisibility. I’m still caught off guard a lot of times when people remember me and talk to me.
10. Scary movies really freak me out and I refuse to watch them because I know that I will scream or freak out in the middle.
11. I talk during movies. And TV shows.
12. I love music, nothing can move me quite as much as a rock song with a really good strings sequence.
13. Cooking for an audience is one of my very most favorite things to do. I own three aprons.
14. I have never “dated” anyone and at 22 I am VL. It’s my assumption that the first guy I allow to get that close will be the one I hold onto forever, but maybe that’s just the romantic in me talking gibberish.
15. I drive a 15 passenger van everywhere.
16. It is my dream to one day ride a giant Galapagos tortoise in the Galapagos.
17. My eyes change color when I’m angry, sad, or wear green.
18. I am an undeniable romantic in every way. It’s almost debilitating. I cry in movies when something sweet is said or done and I cry when I hear how someone proposed and I cry when I see wedding photos – it’s all so beautiful and happy.
19. My favorite color and food changes almost daily but my favorite gum has been Orbit’s Sweet Mint for a very long time now.
20. I am allergic to scents. I have to put perfume in my hair or on my clothes instead of on my skin because it makes me break into rash immediately that itches and burns at the same time. I have had to forgo using scented laundry detergent and softener as well as most lotions and body washes.
21. Nothing in the world could ever smell as sweet as the air after summer rain.
22. My favorite flowers are lilacs, gardenias, and roses.
23. My dad thinks it’s weird that I like spending time with cadavers. My anatomy students think it’s weird that I will hold a brain with no problem but if I see a hair on a cadaver or specimen that is not supposed to be there I freak and get all grossed out.
24. When I was little I didn’t know what color my hair was because it has brown, blonde and red in it so I used to call it “rainbow” hair.
25. I am utterly terrified of poisonous spiders. Whenever I see a black widow or brown recluse I get so scared I cry and can’t move. This is a pretty sad affliction seeing as how we have lots of black widows around my house and my brothers think it’s funny to chase me with them.

Wednesday, July 1, 2009

For Sale

So, we are really going to do it! Raising money for Camp Kesem has been a big challenge this year. Most of our donations come from writing letters to friends and family but this year we have been down on our luck with insufficient funds. To help us raise money during the last month before camp we will be hosting a date auction. I will be participating.

Basically, the other "contestents" and my self will parade around looking hott and bids will be placed on an article of clothing or jewelery we own. Once the bidding is over and the donations have been collected, we will proceed to go on our blind date and hopefully end get a bit of cash for our beloved Kesemites.

I'm really excited!

After considerable experience (acquired via the vast majority of my dating exposure) I am exeptional at first dates, especially blind first dates. I've got this one in the bag. I will look good, be a great listener, and have a positive outlook. I'm really excited!

Sunday, June 28, 2009

New Day Dawning

Gold light of morning filters through a crack in the wall.
Dust dances on the liquid shaft of light and I smile.
In my mind, a million miles away, I am happy.
In my mind, right here, I dance in the golden rays of the sun.
And I smile.
I’ve left behind the life I did not love and in its place I can replace my special place of golden light where dust dances on air and I am happy in my mind with my past far behind, a million miles behind.
Ahead of me is only air. The air I breathe; in and out with the happy rhythm of blood pumping through my veins from my heart. I can see my heart dance under my skin as I lay here – still and quiet, focused only on the air going in and out of me; becoming part of me.
With my beating heart to set the tempo, I dance the dance of youth and sing the song of life. I was born with this song and although I will not always dance, I will die with this song still resonating with the beat of my heart until that, like my youth, fades into oblivion.
Gold light changes with the morning, turning white -- but not less pure. The day progresses, as days do, when all of a sudden it is night and my mind drifts into oblivion.
New day dawning gives me hope. Today is a day for living and leaving the past behind – a million miles behind – and loving every heartbeat.
So I smile.

Dreams don't have to disappear when you wake up, you just have to see them with your waking eyes.

Life is fluid. When you find something you love, it surges inside your heart for the breifest moment and then dies out as quickly as it came like the brilliance of a shooting star. When you find something to detest, however, the bitterness lingers far longer than the actual event. Why is that? Why can we not hold on to happiness longer than bitterness. Why does the sweet subside when the hurt remains? I'd like to be an optimistic person. I strive toward that end. But when disappointment for time ill spend builds up and surges in a tidal wave of grief over what might have been. . .

The last four years of my life has been spend chasing a dream I had when I was very small -- in two ways actually. Dream one: When I first realized what physicians were and what medicine was I declaired that I wanted to be a doctor! Dream two: I've always thought that I would recognize my future husband from a literal dream I had when I was eight years old.

Dream one: I've worked very hard to succeed in school but am dubious as to how well qualified I am for medical school. To be honest, I'm a little burned out with school and have been for two very long years. But, true to my head-strong nature, I have never once given up on my dream or even on a class. Even when I know that I will need to re-take a class, I put my all into it the first time and chase miracles like they are butterflies in a green meadow. And, just like catching butterflies, I sometimes manage to hold a miricle for a brief moment only to discover that I have crushed its delicate frame in my haste and am forced to discard it. I will never give up, but I do need to take my time and make sure to move carefully toward my destination. I also need to accept that there are countless paths I can take that lead to the same goal. I'm going to begin looking around.

Dream two: I have a blind spot for eligable men. I tend to notice only the guys who are taken. Let me explain; men who are loved by woman and are sure of that love are confident and generous and therefore catch my eye much more often than men who merely hope to be loved. Perhaps its the same for women and that's why I am often overlooked; a wallflower or a shadow in the room. I have come to realize, painfully, that there is no such thing as love at first sight. Love, not some romantic burst of infatuation, only comes to those who carefully plant it in their hearts and cultivate it over time. Love is sharing a history with someone, knowing their past and accepting that they have made individual choices and will continue to do so. I cannot hold onto a dream of a man who existed only in my mind. I will never be happy if I try to place any potential prospect into the tiny mold I have been carrying in my heart. He will invariably be so much more than I can anticipate.

I will not alow my past to dictate my future.
I will accept that every silver lining needs a stormcloud and then get over it.
I will be true to my nature and keep trying even when every indication points to failure because I haven't failed yet.

Friday, June 5, 2009


Last night as I pulled out of my work parking lot to transverse the wide, empty sage-plain of Dugway where wild horses and antelope play I marveled at the sky. It was overcast and wind pushed the clouds overhead at a fantastic speed. I was hungry, tired, and very glad to be heading into my three-day weekend. (Every week has a three day weekend because we work 10 hour days and most people commute at least 2-3 hours a day.) As I drove the dusty path all of my suppressed thoughts about the day bubbled up to the surface and demanded attention.

So I called my little brother.

Bill graduated Wednesday night and went off to a late grad party at the high school. He must have picked up friends because he borrowed the 15 passenger family van that I usually drive. I know this because as I was leaving for work, at the brisk hour of 5:30am, my gas tank was full instead of half empty. My heart was full too. It really made my day. :-)

Next on my list of consideration was the *enormous* cow I saw on my drive to work. Coming up on it I noticed an entire herd of cows grazing by the side of the road. This was nothing new but I slowed down anyway so as not to startle the cows when I passed. Then, in the middle of road, I noticed a black mountain of flesh. A huge, unlucky cow was sprawled out in the middle of road. Its body spanned an entire lane and its head was resting at least 12 inches into the other lane; its tongue lolling, its massive chest having fallen for the last time. I'm not sure if it was the victim of a hit and run, a drive-by, or if it simply decided to expire in the middle of the rural highway but it was seriously hogging the road.

I considered getting out and shifting it off to the side of the road but then I remembered two things: super-human strength is not one of my mutations and I wouldn't get to wash my hands until I arrived at my office about 30 minutes from that point. So, I did what any other regular, sanitary person would do: I drove by and avoided running over its head.

Dearly beloved. We gather together this fine summer mooo-rning to moooo-rn the loss of Bessy Heifer who lived big and loved big. May she rest in peace amongst the sweet grass of the heavens. Amen.

The thought of driving two hours back to Provo was not very appealing and with love on my mind I decided to head home to Erda instead. Passing through Tooele on the way it was only natural to pay Adam a visit. It's been nearly two years since I've made that stop. Every time the thought enters my mind something else always takes its place.

"Why stop there when I am always with you?"

Adam has many more neighbors compared to the last time I saw that plot of green grass. His headstone is weather-worn and only a few of the coins we left as "tips" have endured. Although it was only a brief visit, it was long enough to conjure up the presence of my baby brother who "Returned with Honor."

Sunday, May 31, 2009

Chugga chugga choo choo!

Wow. So, yeah. Here I am world, starting a blog so I can blog about things that bloggers blog about . . . Huzzah!

Since I didn't just zip into existence when I got my very own url, I guess I'll just start out with some run-of-the-mill facts about myself:

Fact: I'm from a large family who I love very, very much.
Fact: I am LDS, young, single, and adult.
Fact: I attend BYU in Provo and will graduate very, very soon.
Fact: I have wanted to be a doctor since I was three and discovered that the career exits.
Fact: I love being alive and doing the things that living people do.

Last night I attended a benefit dinner to raise money for Camp Kesem, a camp for kids whose parents have/had cancer, so that we can actually pay for the second annual Camp Kesem camp in Utah. We were able to raise about $2K but still need a considerable sum before August so that the kids aren't forced to rough it in the elements and starve for a week. (I won't let it happen, my bambinos!)

During the dinner I was brainstorming some ideas to raise money and then it hit me like a "Single in Provo?" sign fluttering across the freeway: We should host a bachelor/bachelorette auction!

What do people in Provo love to do on the weekend? Date!

Do they like to give of their time, talents, and treasures? I sure hope so!

Am I desperate enough to put myself up on the chopping block of prostituted dating time to raise cash for my favorite charity? Heck yes, I am!!

We might even raise, like, 25 bucks if we get enough people to donate themselves as bachelors/bachelorettes! Hmmmm. Yeah. We might need more buck-a-roos than that. . .

Let's face it: Kids in Provo like to date and support worthy causes, but we're kind of cheap-skates. I mean, tuition is only $2000 and we still complain when it goes up $100 a semester. . .

I happen to be a big fan of the Little Engine Who Could and I think we should just chugga chugga choo choo right up to the gaping crevice of doubt and insufficient funds, close our eyes, and hope for success! You never know until you try. And we WILL have camp this year even if I have to scam some poor sap to do so.