Dear imaginary audience. You are my favorite kind of audience. I feel confident, wild, and scandalously open when I perform for you. (And as a bit of personal thought, I've always felt that perform should be spelled preform, except then it would get mixed up with forming before the fact. We say it, or at least I do, pr-e-form. With a short "e" and the "r" before it.)
And I also find myself saying "spell-t" rather than "spell-ed". Hmm...
But besides that.
Today was one of those days that I was so glad I'm a girl, and not the alternative. And yet, I found myself succumbing to some of the worst attributes my sex is infamous for. Let me explain.
My mother has been in Utah all week, helping my aunt do inventory of my late grandmother's house. So, while she's away, I'm home alone with my dad and little brother. Men! They NEVER put the toilet seat down. NEVER notice when they just toss things here or set things down there or make a complete disaster of things in general. And NEVER make a whole, healthy, un-greasy meal. At least these ones don't. Or at least not THIS week.
I'm rapidly coming up to my next period (sorry if that makes anyone blush, I don't really think it's a secret event or anything), and I know this from how I'm feeling. Hormones and what not. Rapid mood changes, feeling girly, craving milk (though I do that most of the time anyway), etc. Girls, you know what I mean. Well, being stuck home with two GUYS isn't the best situation for this to happen in. So tonight, when I knew Dad and Sam were going to be gone at Wed. night activities, I stopped at the library and checked out a couple of chick-flicks. Not the sappy sweet ones. I don't like those period. It's more like Sweet Home Alabama and, yes it's sticky, Sleepless in Seattle. I wanted girl silly time.
Well when I got home my dad was just finishing dinner. He hadn't bothered to make me anything. He just said, "I guess you can find something for yourself, I'm off. Please do the dishes".
I overreacted. Now I KNOW that now, and even though I still feel justified in feeling upset, I'm not proud of getting so angry. You see, I've done dishes, ALONE, every day since my mother left. The day I asked my father and brother to do them, they didn't. Let just let them stack up until dad asked ME to do them. I told him that that WAS NOT FAIR, and he started telling me that Sam brought in firewood today and so it was fair. Ok, no let's see here. I WORK all day. I have a JOB! And not only is Sam not working, but he's on spring break this week. He's sitting around, not doing ANYTHING all day. I asked him. I said, "So Sam, what did you do with yourself today?" "Nothing. Watched a movie." FAIR?!? I'm the one that straightens up all their messes this week! Last night I was on beck and call for my dad who needed help with his computer. Every five minutes it was, "Kate!" And he thinks that because Sam brought in firewood (and not even a whole wall's worth (you'd have to be here to know what that means)) it makes it fair for me to do the job he and Sam were suppose to do. Two days worth of dishes? I'm not home all day. The only dishes I use are one cup for breakfast and dinner dishes!
Well, the matter couldn't have been made any better by the fact that I was up 'til 3 a.m. this morning registering for classes. Sam had two friends over last night and when I finally got to bed I was kept up a while by their voices, echoing down the hallway. Roar.
Well I swore to him that I wasn't doing the dishes, not alone anyway, and he'd just have to deal with that. And of course he started ranting and raving about how I was living at home rent free and he just might start charging me if I didn't do what I was told. I told him, more like yelled at him, that he could bite me. I didn't care. So he stormed out.
At about eight o'clock I did the dishes.
Friday night the storms rolled into Kirksville. Friday night I watched the lighting shooting across the yard, but there wasn't much rain and or thunder. Saturday night it rained. It thundered. It STORMED. A beautiful, beautiful, full fledged storm. Sunday morning we awoke to discover that we weren't going to be making it to church. The creeks were flooded and the driveway crossing was uncrossable. By the time I managed to get out there with my camera it had died down a lot, but then church was over. It wasn't 'til the evening that the crossing got low enough to pass over anyhow. Sunday night it rained some more. Dad says that he thinks this winter-thaw part of the year is that uggliest of all, but I'd have to disagree. The rain and damp air saturated every color in the landscape. The grass was saffron gold, the trees deep, dark chocolate brown, the sky a pearly, blue-grey... and so on. It was BEAUTIFUL! I LOVE nature!
Everything I'm thinking in my head is filtered through a southern drawl right now. Sometimes I just do that. Think in a different accent. Makes me feel... multi-dimensional.
G'night.
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
Thursday, March 5, 2009
Nonsense and non sense. Different but equal.
Garble garble garble... on and on. I let thoughts float freely, unhindered in my head. I want to write them down. No. I NEED to write them down. I feel that my journals may never be of any use to anyone in the future, but I find them fascinating a few years beyond them. Reading back I feel a slushy of, "And I thought I was smart? I sound like an immature, whiny twit!" or "Oh wow! That's really good! When did I forget all that and become dumb again?" . I dunno. Maybe with all the paper I use I'll have a home-storage supply of fire-started when I'm old and living under the sky, eating rabbit and warming my hands that are covered in ratty gloves with no ends on the fingertips. Who knows. Hobos!
Write now I'm ready two books, and listening to two books on tape/CD. We're the multi-tasking generation, right? We should exercise our talents and strive to be the best we can be in all we're good at, etc. etc. right? Without going insane???? Ok. I'm just practicing for the upcoming semester or some of made of excusy reason that makes me sound like I'm actually do this for a purpose. I'm learning to juggle my brain juices. For as we all know, or atleast those of us who are fortunate enough to be spiratically creative and daring know, that when certain brain juices mix, BOOM. (yeah, that was a load of nonsense that makes non sense.)
I gave blood today. First time. Got a pin and everything! I'm not afraid of blood at all. Watching my plum-purple and melted-slushy puree of blood flowing through the tubes was actually really cool. It's me. Real, hot, sloshing blood. MY blood. I admit that I was nervous before I got there. Jumpy really. Couldn't concentrate at work. I didn't know how it would go. Whether it was going to be all steril and that sad blue-green-grey of a hostpital feel that makes me depressed and anxious, or... what. It turned out to be just a few cots rigged up around the church gym, with white cardboard walls set up for the "interigations". (smile). I liked that comfortable, casual feeling of it all. Like a beduin camp. Nomads. And while I still smell iodine everywhere it makes me think more of the dark, amber color of the liquid than any stinging pain sensation one with associate with it in regards of a hostpital or doctor's office. The workers were young and jovial. Laughing and chatting and they immediately brought me into the conversation. When they finally hoisted my sack of blood up off the floor and pinched off my tube I got pats all around for doing it all like a pro- no "first timer squeemish" nonsense. I'm glad, for I can't deny that I had been nervous. Unashamedly so.
I love animals. I just have a comfortable understanding of them that always makes me feel at home and confident. I don't know why, but I understand them and I like them easier than I come to liking most people. Certainly they warm up to me much faster than people generally do. I'm not boasting that I'm some kind of "animal whisperer" or some other nonsense, but I will never deny that I have a thing with animals. I love them, and every day when I'm in college I pine for a pet. An animal companion. Whenever I go to my sister's in Utah I play with and, she probably believes, pamper her cats in a "pay you attention, love you, tease you" sort of way that leaves her in a fix when I leave. They want her to give them the attention I did, but she's too busy. Spoiled sissy brats! But cute and cuddly non the less. (grin). I get sick and tired of our dog, Abby, sliding off my bed and taking all my blankets with her, and generally just hogging the bed period, but I miss her when she's not there. She may snore, but I love it when she rests her head on my knee and warms my feet. Now there's a stray cat who greats me at the door everytime I leave work. We don't know who she belongs to so we feed her and she apparently loves me. Have to threaten to run over her to get her to stop following me to my car. (silly, silly sweet heart). I'm going to try and take a class on zoology this semester. We'll see how it goes.
Cheers.
Write now I'm ready two books, and listening to two books on tape/CD. We're the multi-tasking generation, right? We should exercise our talents and strive to be the best we can be in all we're good at, etc. etc. right? Without going insane???? Ok. I'm just practicing for the upcoming semester or some of made of excusy reason that makes me sound like I'm actually do this for a purpose. I'm learning to juggle my brain juices. For as we all know, or atleast those of us who are fortunate enough to be spiratically creative and daring know, that when certain brain juices mix, BOOM. (yeah, that was a load of nonsense that makes non sense.)
I gave blood today. First time. Got a pin and everything! I'm not afraid of blood at all. Watching my plum-purple and melted-slushy puree of blood flowing through the tubes was actually really cool. It's me. Real, hot, sloshing blood. MY blood. I admit that I was nervous before I got there. Jumpy really. Couldn't concentrate at work. I didn't know how it would go. Whether it was going to be all steril and that sad blue-green-grey of a hostpital feel that makes me depressed and anxious, or... what. It turned out to be just a few cots rigged up around the church gym, with white cardboard walls set up for the "interigations". (smile). I liked that comfortable, casual feeling of it all. Like a beduin camp. Nomads. And while I still smell iodine everywhere it makes me think more of the dark, amber color of the liquid than any stinging pain sensation one with associate with it in regards of a hostpital or doctor's office. The workers were young and jovial. Laughing and chatting and they immediately brought me into the conversation. When they finally hoisted my sack of blood up off the floor and pinched off my tube I got pats all around for doing it all like a pro- no "first timer squeemish" nonsense. I'm glad, for I can't deny that I had been nervous. Unashamedly so.
I love animals. I just have a comfortable understanding of them that always makes me feel at home and confident. I don't know why, but I understand them and I like them easier than I come to liking most people. Certainly they warm up to me much faster than people generally do. I'm not boasting that I'm some kind of "animal whisperer" or some other nonsense, but I will never deny that I have a thing with animals. I love them, and every day when I'm in college I pine for a pet. An animal companion. Whenever I go to my sister's in Utah I play with and, she probably believes, pamper her cats in a "pay you attention, love you, tease you" sort of way that leaves her in a fix when I leave. They want her to give them the attention I did, but she's too busy. Spoiled sissy brats! But cute and cuddly non the less. (grin). I get sick and tired of our dog, Abby, sliding off my bed and taking all my blankets with her, and generally just hogging the bed period, but I miss her when she's not there. She may snore, but I love it when she rests her head on my knee and warms my feet. Now there's a stray cat who greats me at the door everytime I leave work. We don't know who she belongs to so we feed her and she apparently loves me. Have to threaten to run over her to get her to stop following me to my car. (silly, silly sweet heart). I'm going to try and take a class on zoology this semester. We'll see how it goes.
Cheers.
Monday, February 16, 2009
Streaming me off the internet...
Explain self....
There's no explanation.
I love to walk around in the darkness of night without any lights, when my eyes have adjusted to the dimness and every minute lightsource and illumination seems vivid. When moonlilght is so bright everything glows. I love how when you're drivigin in mist, you can see everything just around you, and as you move along this idolated bubble of visibilty moves with you, so that when you look back, its all mist behind you. I love to sit down in the shower and turn the water on really hot, close my eyes, and breath in the steam. I love oil in puddles. I love lightning that comes out of nowhere, l ight s ghost, without any thunder. You either notice it or you don't. I love lightning that is small and quick, and followed but a bulging, rolling, kettledrum burst of thunder. I love it when the rain suddenly pounds down on the roof, like a waterfall. I love old pianos. With warm yellow keys, deep, reverberating low notes, and easy, well oiled petals. I love old wood. Warn in, with nicks and smoothed dips and dark, ageed stains. I love undied linen and yellowing brussels lace. I love delicate and old slps, with hints of lace and crimped silk around the bottom. I love high collars, the ones that flip up, adn are open at the nape of the neck. I love hot, flaky, buttery pasteries. I love dictionaries and thesauruses. I love black and white photographs, faces with wrinckles, and big ears. I love to watch dirt slide/tumble down a bank. I love music that feels like it has imbodied an emotion or feeling that casts a spell on you and makes you feel the way it wants you to, that completely takes over your moods or emotions. I love love stories that don't have a lot of physical loving going on, so that that one kiss seems so special, so spiritual, and sends shivers up your spine. I love delicate flowers, like morning glories or violets. I love laying down in the middle of a field of tall grass, so no one can see you, and to just stare at the sky. I love deep, reverberating low notes and percussions in music, from cannon fire to battle music. I love laying on my stomach, width-wise across a bed. I love metal that is molded and twisted into intricate or elaborate designs, whether on wrought iron fences or in jewelry. I love opals, garnets, topaz, and moon stones. I love the pearly, irridescence from inside of shells more than the pearls in them. I love hollow trees. I love old trees. I love finding the strength, weakness, and deep, almost secret, often unconcious, motivating factors in people. The things that make them unique from anyone else. That thing that seems outside of their face value, or shown character. Even the people that seem to have been cut out of a mold of a fashion or culture have these hidden, perfectly individual parts of them. I love sitting in silence and hearing all the "silence sounds", like wind, ticking clocks, breathing, and so forth. I love waking up in the morning and knowing it's sunny outside. I love eating while I cook, and usually eat my own share before it's put on the table, so by the time the meal's ready, i'm full. I love intrigue, pennames and aliases, secret missions, and odd and creative, spontaneous play acting that has nothing to do with anything of consiquence. I love to people watch. I love bizaar, spontaneous things. I love animals and their funny, innocent, and unchecked personalities. I love children who are inquisitive and unashamed to ask questions. I love to ask questions. I love to pretend I'm in battle, or sneaking around on enemy territory, or have been caught and must be careful with my words, just acting and pretending. I love pants for men that come up past their wastes, and are tied 'round with a thick scarf or belt, and are form fitting (not tight, but are tailored). I think that they are very attractive and make most men look better. Knee high boots are nice too. I love random humour. I love inky pens. I love deep, rich, odd, but saturated colors and dyes. I love eyes and eye brows. I don't like really broad shoulders, square jaws, or thick necks, I think that long knecks and defined but softly angles jaws are most attractive. I love all colors of hair, no one more than another (except for cheeply died or bleached colors. like macaroni blonde! ugh!). I love odd, vague, and intricate but really honest and simple philosphies. I love...
to be continued...
There's no explanation.
I love to walk around in the darkness of night without any lights, when my eyes have adjusted to the dimness and every minute lightsource and illumination seems vivid. When moonlilght is so bright everything glows. I love how when you're drivigin in mist, you can see everything just around you, and as you move along this idolated bubble of visibilty moves with you, so that when you look back, its all mist behind you. I love to sit down in the shower and turn the water on really hot, close my eyes, and breath in the steam. I love oil in puddles. I love lightning that comes out of nowhere, l ight s ghost, without any thunder. You either notice it or you don't. I love lightning that is small and quick, and followed but a bulging, rolling, kettledrum burst of thunder. I love it when the rain suddenly pounds down on the roof, like a waterfall. I love old pianos. With warm yellow keys, deep, reverberating low notes, and easy, well oiled petals. I love old wood. Warn in, with nicks and smoothed dips and dark, ageed stains. I love undied linen and yellowing brussels lace. I love delicate and old slps, with hints of lace and crimped silk around the bottom. I love high collars, the ones that flip up, adn are open at the nape of the neck. I love hot, flaky, buttery pasteries. I love dictionaries and thesauruses. I love black and white photographs, faces with wrinckles, and big ears. I love to watch dirt slide/tumble down a bank. I love music that feels like it has imbodied an emotion or feeling that casts a spell on you and makes you feel the way it wants you to, that completely takes over your moods or emotions. I love love stories that don't have a lot of physical loving going on, so that that one kiss seems so special, so spiritual, and sends shivers up your spine. I love delicate flowers, like morning glories or violets. I love laying down in the middle of a field of tall grass, so no one can see you, and to just stare at the sky. I love deep, reverberating low notes and percussions in music, from cannon fire to battle music. I love laying on my stomach, width-wise across a bed. I love metal that is molded and twisted into intricate or elaborate designs, whether on wrought iron fences or in jewelry. I love opals, garnets, topaz, and moon stones. I love the pearly, irridescence from inside of shells more than the pearls in them. I love hollow trees. I love old trees. I love finding the strength, weakness, and deep, almost secret, often unconcious, motivating factors in people. The things that make them unique from anyone else. That thing that seems outside of their face value, or shown character. Even the people that seem to have been cut out of a mold of a fashion or culture have these hidden, perfectly individual parts of them. I love sitting in silence and hearing all the "silence sounds", like wind, ticking clocks, breathing, and so forth. I love waking up in the morning and knowing it's sunny outside. I love eating while I cook, and usually eat my own share before it's put on the table, so by the time the meal's ready, i'm full. I love intrigue, pennames and aliases, secret missions, and odd and creative, spontaneous play acting that has nothing to do with anything of consiquence. I love to people watch. I love bizaar, spontaneous things. I love animals and their funny, innocent, and unchecked personalities. I love children who are inquisitive and unashamed to ask questions. I love to ask questions. I love to pretend I'm in battle, or sneaking around on enemy territory, or have been caught and must be careful with my words, just acting and pretending. I love pants for men that come up past their wastes, and are tied 'round with a thick scarf or belt, and are form fitting (not tight, but are tailored). I think that they are very attractive and make most men look better. Knee high boots are nice too. I love random humour. I love inky pens. I love deep, rich, odd, but saturated colors and dyes. I love eyes and eye brows. I don't like really broad shoulders, square jaws, or thick necks, I think that long knecks and defined but softly angles jaws are most attractive. I love all colors of hair, no one more than another (except for cheeply died or bleached colors. like macaroni blonde! ugh!). I love odd, vague, and intricate but really honest and simple philosphies. I love...
to be continued...
Saturday, February 14, 2009
Mermses
meet...
(the one singing is, of course, a siren. I didn't want to put the music notes on it, but my mother says she looks like she's in pain or something. Whatever. Still, I do like the first one better. The second one has a number of flaws in the artwork. Oh well.)
My Merms!
Monday, February 2, 2009
Ketchup
Things have been VERY busy in my world the last week or so.
First things first:
Friday evening I found out that my grandmother had passed away. (She'd been struggling for a while so it wasn't a particular surprise, but sad nonetheless.) My family immediately began making arrangements for a trip back to Utah. Of course, as it ALWAYS is with my family (or so it seems) the day we first choose to travel is also the first day a huge storm moves in. We don't plan it this way, but I think the weather does. (Humbugabug!) Finally, after delaying the trip a day, we head out. We ultimately decided to take 1-70 West, for the weather reports showed it to be safer. Well, it may be safer, but it's also a lot LONGER! We drove all the way there in one sprint, leaving at 3 a.m. (CST) from MO and getting to Springville, UT, (where my brother and sister-in-law reside (and where we generally crashed)) at about 12:30 a.m. (MST).
The next morning it was all hustle and bustle with showering and getting ready for the funeral. Mom and dad headed up to SLC earlier and then the rest of us (Tom, Margo, Am, Sam, and I) came up in the late morning. We attended the viewing, where there were a lot or relatives I haven't seen for a while, a lot of people I didn't know, and a few people so teary eyed I simply couldn't make heads or tails whether I knew them or not. I personally don't usually get all sad at funerals. I know it may sound terribly to some people, but I cry over kittens that die in the spring than I did over my grandmother's casket. In actuallity I didn't go to the casket until the end of the viewing when we did a walk by. I don't like dead bodies and I prefered to keep the image of my grandmother as living, smiling, happy person unblemished. I didn't want to have to see her once active frame as a lonely shell: cold and wax like. That wasn't my grandmother, it was her carcass. (If that hurts or offends anyone just take into acount that this IS my blog, and my feelings and you are reading them by choice. I'm not forcing them on you, and I'm not condeming you if you feel otherwise). When I did finally walk by the casket I felt awkward and like I was standing in a spot light-people watching me, looking for me to say something or start crying or something.
After the viewing we went into a little chapel-type room and had a service where people told stories and sang songs, etc. etc. It was kinda long, many stories were repeated, but it was more cheerful than the viewing and at times quite amusing. After that we all piled into vehicles and headed for the cemetery. Now HERE was something I felt more appropriate for a funeral. The whole cemetery was covered in snow and pine trees and little benches with lamps. It was like one had stepped into the ideal winter wonderland. In the distance were the rockie mountains, looming up with snow packed peeks and slopes, like sentinals, or witness of solomn age and wisdom. And the trees managed to nearly completely block out the sounds and sights of the bustling city beyond the edge of the park. I wish now that I could have take my camera and hiked all over the landscape, snapping away with my brain (for memories) and with my camera for experience. Actually my digital camera wound up being battery-dead, but my father handed me his "real" film camera and I ended up going through two rolls of film, capturing the casket and the people milling and talking, mourning and smiling. I really felt like it was a REAL funeral then. Family, friends, beautiful scenery, and whiteness all around. (I think white much more appopriate for funerals than black.)
Finally my brother urged us all that it was warmer somewhere else, and we all trapsed back to our cars and went to the ward building for a lunch-dinner-thing. (it was around 4 p.m. so I'll let you decide what it was). The food was good, but the company was better. It was like an impromptu family reunion. We kicked the boys out and had a table for just the girls. Cousins, aunts, sisters, and friends. The boys, in retaliation, held a "manly man" (Caleb, he he) convention at the other table. Uncles, brothers, cousins, and friends. Then, that evening, we all gathered at my grandmother's house and had another reunion. One full of talking, crowded couches, and a fantastically executed game or two of Mafia! Moo-ha-ha! It honestly was a BLAST! The house was FULL of flowers and people, and even Abby (our not-so-small dog who road all the way across the country on our laps, "MOAN!"), who was most successfully raking in a new and thoroughly enchanted fan club. Eventually we all split up again, off to our places of rest to find beds and sleep.
The next morning my two eldest sisters, Johanna and Charlotte, and I headed out on a mission of top importants. We were going out to get, GASP, our hair cut!!! :) I have never before had my hair cut professionally so I was really nervous. I'd been needing a hair cut for a long while and had quite firmly convinced myself that it was "now or never". (And I felt I trusted my sisters with my hair more than anyone else in the world, so here was a very opportune moment to go with them.) As I sat down in the chair, and the lady strapped on the bib, I took out the hair magazine my sister and I had picked from. I showed the lady my photos, asked a few un-answered questions, and sat back to be completely ignored and overwhelmed. She was the sort of lady that doesn't like spending time explaining, or getting unique requests. She took one look at my picture and said, "Ope, that's a basic a-line cut." Snip, snip, snip. Well, no, that was NOT what I'd asked for. I tried to explain it to her, but my "hair cutting lingo-illiteracy" was apparently too great for she mostly just stood there with her hands on her hips, chewing her gum, and telling me that she had no idea what I was talking about. At that time I REALLY wished my sisters were standing there with me to translate, but they were off at the other side of the room. Pretty much I ended up with a pudding bowl but, with a sweep bang, and about 3 inches shorter than I wanted! Personally, I felt I looke AWFUL! Frusterated at my failure at my first ever professional cut, I put my money down and we left. But my sister's were not happy with my frustration and insisted that they were either going to drag me into another salon and have it cut again, or they were going to do it themselves... or something of the sort. I honestly just wanted to go home and do something with it myself, for I was willing to live with it so long as I was allowed to style it how I liked, but they were insistant. In the end I got my hair re-trimmed (it was too short to really cut a ton more off) and highlighted and dyed a warmer shade of blonde). It did cheer me up, and I liked it a great bit better than the origional (for while the dying DID help, the trimming was enough in the right places to change it from a pudding bowl, mushroom head look. I still style it differently, more how I like it, but...)
ANYHOO... so the rest of the week flew by in a blur. We helped someone move, we got our toes painted, we went window shopping, we had a busy, hectic, blast while my dad worked out legal with my grandma's will and estate, etc. Then we drove home. Again with the dog on our laps. Again with severe crowding and uncomfortably long hours and situations.
My father had come down with some illness during the trip and wasn't feeling great, and by Friday evening I was feverish, covered in chills and those achings when you skin hurts when touched, a bit of nausea, and extreme uncomfortableness. Over the next few days I had ups and downs with my illness, enough to keep me home from church on Sunday, but receding enough to send me, weak, but alive to work on Monday. Blah! I should have waited a day.
Now it's the end of the next week. I'm tired. I'm very tired. But it was sunny and in the 60's today (which is nice even if I was stuck inside all day at work and unable to really enjoy it). I look forward to hot chocolate, a good book and/or movie, and sleeping in tomorrow. And since we have dial-up internet here (which will soon be changing, YIPEEEE!!!) It's taken me quite some time and a couple of days to write this, and I'm now posting it and letting you make whatever of it you will. Have fun. Don't be too critical. Don't make fun of my spelling. Honestly, it's all informalities and I really don't care.
Cheerio.
First things first:
Friday evening I found out that my grandmother had passed away. (She'd been struggling for a while so it wasn't a particular surprise, but sad nonetheless.) My family immediately began making arrangements for a trip back to Utah. Of course, as it ALWAYS is with my family (or so it seems) the day we first choose to travel is also the first day a huge storm moves in. We don't plan it this way, but I think the weather does. (Humbugabug!) Finally, after delaying the trip a day, we head out. We ultimately decided to take 1-70 West, for the weather reports showed it to be safer. Well, it may be safer, but it's also a lot LONGER! We drove all the way there in one sprint, leaving at 3 a.m. (CST) from MO and getting to Springville, UT, (where my brother and sister-in-law reside (and where we generally crashed)) at about 12:30 a.m. (MST).
The next morning it was all hustle and bustle with showering and getting ready for the funeral. Mom and dad headed up to SLC earlier and then the rest of us (Tom, Margo, Am, Sam, and I) came up in the late morning. We attended the viewing, where there were a lot or relatives I haven't seen for a while, a lot of people I didn't know, and a few people so teary eyed I simply couldn't make heads or tails whether I knew them or not. I personally don't usually get all sad at funerals. I know it may sound terribly to some people, but I cry over kittens that die in the spring than I did over my grandmother's casket. In actuallity I didn't go to the casket until the end of the viewing when we did a walk by. I don't like dead bodies and I prefered to keep the image of my grandmother as living, smiling, happy person unblemished. I didn't want to have to see her once active frame as a lonely shell: cold and wax like. That wasn't my grandmother, it was her carcass. (If that hurts or offends anyone just take into acount that this IS my blog, and my feelings and you are reading them by choice. I'm not forcing them on you, and I'm not condeming you if you feel otherwise). When I did finally walk by the casket I felt awkward and like I was standing in a spot light-people watching me, looking for me to say something or start crying or something.
After the viewing we went into a little chapel-type room and had a service where people told stories and sang songs, etc. etc. It was kinda long, many stories were repeated, but it was more cheerful than the viewing and at times quite amusing. After that we all piled into vehicles and headed for the cemetery. Now HERE was something I felt more appropriate for a funeral. The whole cemetery was covered in snow and pine trees and little benches with lamps. It was like one had stepped into the ideal winter wonderland. In the distance were the rockie mountains, looming up with snow packed peeks and slopes, like sentinals, or witness of solomn age and wisdom. And the trees managed to nearly completely block out the sounds and sights of the bustling city beyond the edge of the park. I wish now that I could have take my camera and hiked all over the landscape, snapping away with my brain (for memories) and with my camera for experience. Actually my digital camera wound up being battery-dead, but my father handed me his "real" film camera and I ended up going through two rolls of film, capturing the casket and the people milling and talking, mourning and smiling. I really felt like it was a REAL funeral then. Family, friends, beautiful scenery, and whiteness all around. (I think white much more appopriate for funerals than black.)
Finally my brother urged us all that it was warmer somewhere else, and we all trapsed back to our cars and went to the ward building for a lunch-dinner-thing. (it was around 4 p.m. so I'll let you decide what it was). The food was good, but the company was better. It was like an impromptu family reunion. We kicked the boys out and had a table for just the girls. Cousins, aunts, sisters, and friends. The boys, in retaliation, held a "manly man" (Caleb, he he) convention at the other table. Uncles, brothers, cousins, and friends. Then, that evening, we all gathered at my grandmother's house and had another reunion. One full of talking, crowded couches, and a fantastically executed game or two of Mafia! Moo-ha-ha! It honestly was a BLAST! The house was FULL of flowers and people, and even Abby (our not-so-small dog who road all the way across the country on our laps, "MOAN!"), who was most successfully raking in a new and thoroughly enchanted fan club. Eventually we all split up again, off to our places of rest to find beds and sleep.
The next morning my two eldest sisters, Johanna and Charlotte, and I headed out on a mission of top importants. We were going out to get, GASP, our hair cut!!! :) I have never before had my hair cut professionally so I was really nervous. I'd been needing a hair cut for a long while and had quite firmly convinced myself that it was "now or never". (And I felt I trusted my sisters with my hair more than anyone else in the world, so here was a very opportune moment to go with them.) As I sat down in the chair, and the lady strapped on the bib, I took out the hair magazine my sister and I had picked from. I showed the lady my photos, asked a few un-answered questions, and sat back to be completely ignored and overwhelmed. She was the sort of lady that doesn't like spending time explaining, or getting unique requests. She took one look at my picture and said, "Ope, that's a basic a-line cut." Snip, snip, snip. Well, no, that was NOT what I'd asked for. I tried to explain it to her, but my "hair cutting lingo-illiteracy" was apparently too great for she mostly just stood there with her hands on her hips, chewing her gum, and telling me that she had no idea what I was talking about. At that time I REALLY wished my sisters were standing there with me to translate, but they were off at the other side of the room. Pretty much I ended up with a pudding bowl but, with a sweep bang, and about 3 inches shorter than I wanted! Personally, I felt I looke AWFUL! Frusterated at my failure at my first ever professional cut, I put my money down and we left. But my sister's were not happy with my frustration and insisted that they were either going to drag me into another salon and have it cut again, or they were going to do it themselves... or something of the sort. I honestly just wanted to go home and do something with it myself, for I was willing to live with it so long as I was allowed to style it how I liked, but they were insistant. In the end I got my hair re-trimmed (it was too short to really cut a ton more off) and highlighted and dyed a warmer shade of blonde). It did cheer me up, and I liked it a great bit better than the origional (for while the dying DID help, the trimming was enough in the right places to change it from a pudding bowl, mushroom head look. I still style it differently, more how I like it, but...)
ANYHOO... so the rest of the week flew by in a blur. We helped someone move, we got our toes painted, we went window shopping, we had a busy, hectic, blast while my dad worked out legal with my grandma's will and estate, etc. Then we drove home. Again with the dog on our laps. Again with severe crowding and uncomfortably long hours and situations.
My father had come down with some illness during the trip and wasn't feeling great, and by Friday evening I was feverish, covered in chills and those achings when you skin hurts when touched, a bit of nausea, and extreme uncomfortableness. Over the next few days I had ups and downs with my illness, enough to keep me home from church on Sunday, but receding enough to send me, weak, but alive to work on Monday. Blah! I should have waited a day.
Now it's the end of the next week. I'm tired. I'm very tired. But it was sunny and in the 60's today (which is nice even if I was stuck inside all day at work and unable to really enjoy it). I look forward to hot chocolate, a good book and/or movie, and sleeping in tomorrow. And since we have dial-up internet here (which will soon be changing, YIPEEEE!!!) It's taken me quite some time and a couple of days to write this, and I'm now posting it and letting you make whatever of it you will. Have fun. Don't be too critical. Don't make fun of my spelling. Honestly, it's all informalities and I really don't care.
Cheerio.
Monday, January 19, 2009
Monday, January 5, 2009
Bon noir! (say it in a startled, exclamitory sort of voice! The effect is ten times more affective!)
Hail, fellow bloggers, friends, family, and familiar fiends!
Humbly I admit that is has indeed been quite some time since I have written here, and I do apologize. However it has been beyond me to do so. The internet at my secret, and unidentified remote location is saddly and exhaustibly weak. To check my e-mail is at least an half-hour chore. ANYHOO...
Christmas came and went. Family came. Food was made and eaten. Presents carefully wrapped and carelessly unwrapped. Hot chocolate. Chrismas lights. Family fights and games. Cozy beds and freezing toes. The beginning of the week got down to -10 F with and ice storm and snow. The day after Christmas it was suddenly 54 F and most of it melted.
Slowly family memebers departed, I got to move back into my own room, and things died down to "normal". On the 29th my little bro. turned 17. A few days later was New Years. And the SUDDENLY (he he he!) it was a New Year! GOOD MORNING 2009! The days kept creeping up and then WHAMO! Yesterday I turned 20! (which, according to people around me, either meant I was "Old", or "sparkling fresh and young!".) (OR according to me sister, it means that I'm no longer a teen, and am now a-"dolt" just like... other people older than me.(p.s. if you don't get the joke in that ask me. I MAY check my e-mail and reply)).
Today I got shepperded to the dentist (a place I hate worse than just about anything. I'd prefer to have shots than get my teeth worked on!). It wasn't too bad (aka: it could have been worse) but still uncomfortable. And tomorrow things REALLY become "normal". Public school starts up, and I begin my job again.
Well, I guess I will miss all the free time I've had lately. Sam and I (and Abby) have gone on a hike just about every other day, and we found that the pond is about 3 inches this in ice. If there's two things I've REALLY learned about ice this winter is the it is COLD and HARD. Falling on ice hurts, and sitting on it hurts too (after you get home and the blood has unfrozen in your rear). But it is something new and fun anyhow.
Yes, my private life is much more complicated/deep/intriguing/developed than all this, but I'm not going to write it all for you. Basically this entry is just to let y'all (snicker snicker) know that i'm still alive (and kicking).
I hope you had a VERY MERRY CHRISTMAS, that the NEW YEAR is everthing it could possibly be, and that you are not under the impression that my new age now classifies me as a ultra-responsible/somber a-dolt. I intend to have imaginary friends and to color on things with perm.-marker well into my ninties!
So, bon noir et au revoir mes amies!
-KLS
Humbly I admit that is has indeed been quite some time since I have written here, and I do apologize. However it has been beyond me to do so. The internet at my secret, and unidentified remote location is saddly and exhaustibly weak. To check my e-mail is at least an half-hour chore. ANYHOO...
Christmas came and went. Family came. Food was made and eaten. Presents carefully wrapped and carelessly unwrapped. Hot chocolate. Chrismas lights. Family fights and games. Cozy beds and freezing toes. The beginning of the week got down to -10 F with and ice storm and snow. The day after Christmas it was suddenly 54 F and most of it melted.
Slowly family memebers departed, I got to move back into my own room, and things died down to "normal". On the 29th my little bro. turned 17. A few days later was New Years. And the SUDDENLY (he he he!) it was a New Year! GOOD MORNING 2009! The days kept creeping up and then WHAMO! Yesterday I turned 20! (which, according to people around me, either meant I was "Old", or "sparkling fresh and young!".) (OR according to me sister, it means that I'm no longer a teen, and am now a-"dolt" just like... other people older than me.(p.s. if you don't get the joke in that ask me. I MAY check my e-mail and reply)).
Today I got shepperded to the dentist (a place I hate worse than just about anything. I'd prefer to have shots than get my teeth worked on!). It wasn't too bad (aka: it could have been worse) but still uncomfortable. And tomorrow things REALLY become "normal". Public school starts up, and I begin my job again.
Well, I guess I will miss all the free time I've had lately. Sam and I (and Abby) have gone on a hike just about every other day, and we found that the pond is about 3 inches this in ice. If there's two things I've REALLY learned about ice this winter is the it is COLD and HARD. Falling on ice hurts, and sitting on it hurts too (after you get home and the blood has unfrozen in your rear). But it is something new and fun anyhow.
Yes, my private life is much more complicated/deep/intriguing/developed than all this, but I'm not going to write it all for you. Basically this entry is just to let y'all (snicker snicker) know that i'm still alive (and kicking).
I hope you had a VERY MERRY CHRISTMAS, that the NEW YEAR is everthing it could possibly be, and that you are not under the impression that my new age now classifies me as a ultra-responsible/somber a-dolt. I intend to have imaginary friends and to color on things with perm.-marker well into my ninties!
So, bon noir et au revoir mes amies!
-KLS
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