That Time I Cut My Own Hair

Did I ever tell you about the time when I cut my own hair – like three days before Picture Day at school? Oh! Well, it’s a good one, so sit back and enjoy!

It was a Saturday. One of those nice, sunny Saturdays in the middle of September or October. The school year was young; I had no homework (but then I was in 3^rd grade, and homework in 3^rd grade consisted of reading for 15 minutes a day and practicing my multiplication tables, both of which I’m sure I did Friday right after school because I was that sort of girl). I had plans to play with Kari that afternoon, but before I would walk through the field to her house, something very critical had to be dealt with.

“Mom,” I probably whined. “Will you cut my bangs? They’re in my eyes and they’re bugging me.”

“I can’t right now, Lindsay,” she responded, probably not taking her eyes off of whatever it was she was doing. “Can it wait until tonight?”

I probably moaned a No under my breath and sulked away.

I didn’t mean to make my mother regret her words. Honest. But this was something that simply couldn’t wait. How could I possibly enjoy myself at Kari’s house if I couldn’t see anything. And besides, bangs that poke you in the eyes are not a particularly pleasant thing to have to deal with. But all was not lost, especially once I remembered the sharp sewing scissors I had received the Christmas before.

I fished through my sewing basket and retrieved the scissors. They were sharp. I had to be careful. Dangerous things could happen when an 8-year-old is left to her own devices and is clutching a pair of scissors. I knew this. I was careful.

Only once I made the first incision, standing in front of the bathroom mirror, I knew I had made a serious mistake. My cut was incredibly crooked, slanting up dangerously high on one side. I froze, then took one of those deep, calming, self-reassuring breaths. I could fix this. And so I tried again.

Oh no! I thought. Crooked again, and this time in the opposite direction! Okay…okay, I could fix this. I skipped the deep breath and went at it, making a series of smaller cuts. But before I knew it, my once long, annoying bangs, were now just ugly. That’s the only word for it: ugly.

What had I done?! I knew my mom would eat me alive once she saw my exposed forehead. I had to confess; there was no way around it. And the sooner the better. Crying uncontrollably, and covering what was left of my poor bangs with my hand, I slipped into my parents bedroom where my mom had been napping.

“Mom….I’m sorry,” I cried and whimpered.

“What is wrong with you, Lindsay?” she asked, annoyed, most likely, with the fact 1) I was crying like a baby and 2) that I wasn’t making a lick of sense.

I moved my hand a little ways from my forehead and cried some more. “What is the matter?” she asked me again. And then she asked me to give her her glasses. She hadn’t seen me and my nearly non-existent bangs! I had to confess all over again!

Mom put her glasses on, took one look in my direction, and screamed. “Lindsay! What have you done?!”

At that point I could do nothing more than fall on the floor in tears, which made my mom even angrier. She never could stomach my crying. She grabbed me by the arm and forced me into the bathroom. Try as she might, she couldn’t possibly undo the damage I had done. When she finished, I looked at myself in the mirror. I looked awful. My bangs were hardly there, they were so short, and what was left of them was all crooked and slanty. My face was red and blotchy from crying and my eyelids were puffy. I was sent to my room for the rest of the day, left to wallow in my own self-inflicted despair until I was called for dinner (which was a humiliating event by itself because I had to face my dad and my brothers). And I guess that it goes without saying that I didn’t play with Kari that day.

My 3^rd grade school pictures look awful. But I guess that now I can laugh about it. I’m not so sure if my mom can laugh about it yet. I haven’t wanted to ask her.

Oh, and by the way. Mom confiscated my sewing scissors that day. She’s never given them back.

Moral: When your mom tells you she can’t cut your hair right now, don’t be impatient and do it yourself, because 8-year-olds really can’t be trusted with sewing scissors.

Rubbing Elbows With The Amish

On Saturday morning, bright and early, Blake and I drove our car about 2 hours north to the smallish community of Shipshewana, Indiana. I briefly considered strapping the horse to our buggy, but decided against it because 2 hours is a lot longer in a buggy, although it turned out we would have fit in quite nicely had we chosen the more antiquated mode of travel. For those of you who are map-inclined, we took I-69 north until we reached Indiana State Road 5, at which point we opted for the more direct and scenic highway route. IN-5 took us on winding roads through historic small towns and wide-open farm country, complete with morning-mist-covered fields boasting 3-inch-tall stalks of corn, red barns (both shiny new and utterly abandoned). It was a beautiful drive, and we saw lots of things, including, but not limited to:

• the above-mentioned mist-covered farmland and vegetables,
• rolling hills (turns out Indiana isn't all flat),
• real white wooden fences (as opposed to that ugly fake plastic stuff),
• red-winged blackbirds (see photo -- These are striking birds that just love to hang out on fence posts by the side of country roads),
  
• two deer in the middle of the road which stared at us point blank for a moment before deciding that it would be wise to jump gracefully over the fence and out of our way so we would not be forced to hit them,
• a handful of tiny, old Indiana towns, including Huntington, which was particularly charming, what with its supply of well-maintained, genteel, pre-1920's homes and the cemetery quaintly named "Pilgrim's Rest." Also, did you know that Huntington is the birthplace of Dan Quayle? It is, and there's a museum to prove it.

By the time we crossed Highway 6 and were officially in Amish Country, we also started to see buggies driving on the side of the road. And when we stopped for gas in an even smaller town outside Shipshewana called Topeka, I saw my first Amish person -- a teenage girl who apparently had some non-Amish pals because why else would an Amish girl hang out a gas station?

Shipshewana, or Shipshe (pronounced "Ship-She"), as the locals tenderly refer to it, only has about 500 actual residents (although if you add in the other nearby Amish towns you get the third largest Amish community in the nation!), but apparently it attracts about 1 million visitors a year. We added to that large tourist demographic as we spent a lovely day browsing through the shops, watching Amish people drive around in buggies and ride around town on their bicycles (meanwhile admiring the fact that the girls were able to modestly and safely ride their bikes while wearing dresses), and observing just how much healthier and more robust the Amish look compared to the rest of us. We watched an Amish auction, which if you ever get a chance to go to one, you most definitely should. Not only does the auctioneer talk reallysuperfast, but he also gets to auction off the most amazingly beautiful pieces of hand-crafted furniture and quilts, two things the Amish are quite famous for being able to make. We actually were able to walk away from our day in Shipshewana one Amish-made rocking chair richer. It's solid oak, and very well put together. It looks like this, only ours has a lighter stain. We found it as we were driving around looking at the Amish farms (which I'll talk about it just a moment) at this little shop run by a very nice Amish family. You know, all the Amish are extremely friendly -- not at all stand-offish, and if they get annoyed with the tourists, you wouldn't know it. No, they are just very happy, friendly people. Almost every Amish group we passed as we drove through their farming neighborhoods waved to us and smiled. It was most pleasant. But anyway, here are a few of the things we saw as we drove around these neighborhoods:

• large, beautiful, well-kept farmhouses with laundry drying on the line and children playing together among the wildflowers,
• Amish men and women hard at work keeping up the farm the old fashioned way, including plowing their fields using a team of horses,
• a stark absence of power lines, as the Amish don't use electricity in their homes (they do, however, use gas to heat and/or cook, as explained by the propane tanks they have in their yards,
• buggies, complete with the orange "slow moving vehicle" triangle placed on the back, right above the special buggy license plates, parked in what otherwise would be used as a car garage.

Anyway, that pretty much sums up our day with the Amish. I'd like to say that by the end of the day, we'd become pretty good friends. At least I understood their culture better than I did when I arrived. By the time we left, their antiqued way of living seemed quite normal to me. I realized once again that, though we all appear very different on the outside, we share more than just a little in what we believe and how we are on the inside. It was a lot of fun, and we'd like to go back there again while we're still in the neighborhood. Maybe you can come with us!

Out of respect for the Amish, I did not take any photos of them (not that you'd get to see them this quick anyhow, seeing as I'm pretty much digital camera-less, but you know, the thought would have been there). But Google Images did (respectfully, of course), so I'll post a few pictures that are representative of the things we saw in Shipshewana. Enjoy!

What we saw as we drove into Shipshewana:



You don't see signs like this every day:




Buggies parked outside a store:



Amish children:



An Amish farm:



Laundry day:



Working in the fields:

Apparently We're Popular Now

It would seem that people(/animals) here just can't live without us. Here are a few examples:

• Last night the elders were scheduled to come over to teach us More Principles of Member Missionary Work. They were so eager to come see us that they even arrived 5 minutes early. Unfortunately, what was to us a quick drive to the laundry room on the other end of the complex to pick up our clean clothes quickly before they arrived looked to them like we were ditching out. They looked very disappointed when we waved at them as we passed each other driving in opposite directions. Never fear, though. They backed up and while I unloaded the dryer, Blake was able to explain What We Were Really Doing, as opposed to What It Looked Like We Were Doing. It's good to feel missed, though.
• The sister missionaries must also think we're great because they've been trying for over a week now to get us to come with them to visit one of their new investigators. Sadly, they always need us at times when we already have prior obligations. But because they love us, they keep on trying. So on Monday we're going to try one more time to go with them to meet this fabulous investigator. I don't think we'll disappoint them this time.
• The word must be out that I, like so many other people in this world, keep a journal. But apparently mine's better (really, though...I'm sure it's not) because the Young Men in the ward (well, not the young men, themselves, per say, but their leaders) want me to come to mutual night next Wednesday and teach them about Why It's Good To Write In A Journal. Hmm...Teenage boys, Journals. Not the easiest combination to picture, but I'll go with it.
• Word has also spread that we have the best bird feeder in the neighborhood because after only 5 days, we had to refill the bird seed. And I thought birds ate, well...like birds! Not so, my friends. These birds eat like a growing boy with a hollow leg. We literally have an average of 4 sparrows lined up on our fence posts waiting sometimes-not-so-patiently for their turn at the feeder, not to mention the cardinals, who are bigger and prettier. Also, the chipmunks and the rabbits have made a habit of happily scrounging for the seeds the birds so carelessly drop (as well as the peanuts we occasionally put out to lure them in), filling up their cheeks and nibbling contentedly within the boundaries of our yard. It's becoming not uncommon to step outside and find a whole woodland gathering hanging out around our feet. (Of course, once we step outside, they never hang around for much longer because apparently not only are we popular, but we're also intimidating.)

So there you have it, folks. We are loved. Or so it would appear.

Speaking of feeling loved...Yesterday I went to the dentist and he told me that I have no cavities. So now I have professionally cleaned teeth and my new dentist thinks I'm a fabulous brusher. Trust me, this is a good feeling.

So, the Public Library will be closed for Memorial Day this weekend. We figured that if they get to shut down and celebrate, why shouldn't we? So tomorrow we're packing sack lunches for a day trip up north to rub elbows with the Amish, so to speak. Unfortunately, I won't be able to report on it until Tuesday due to a sad Lack of Internet at our house. Hopefully, though, there will be some good stories to share. Until then, have a lovely holiday weekend all!

The Twilight Zone

Yesterday, just as I was pulling into our complex after Activity Days, a thunderstorm moved in. The sky turned gray and everything was strangely still. To add to this eerie calm, two mallard ducks were comfortably lounging near my usual parking space. I had to squeeze in between a male, sitting serenely to my right, and a female, standing at attention on my left. It was bizarre -- I mean, we get our share of wildlife in our neighborhood, but these are the first ducks we've seen around here, which is what one would expect, seeing as we don't live close to any ponds, or even to any abnormally large puddles. I felt like I'd stepped out of my car and into the Twilight Zone. And then I walked into my apartment and saw American Idol was on, and I knew it was true. Spooky.

Activity Days was a roaring success. We taught the girls how to cross stitch, and they took to it like wildfire. Also, they acted pretty much like angels on a cloud. They kept their giggles under control and listened when important instructions were given. Also, they liked my cupcakes. Who could ask for anything better?

Good Reasons for Making Cupcakes

I made cupcakes (Devil's Food with chocolate frosting...only the best at our house) last night for several reasons:

1. Blake informed me that yesterday was the birthday of western philosophy and to celebrate -- or at least to acknowledge -- I told him I'd make some cupcakes, which, as you can see, I did. Apparently on May 23, 585 B.C. there was a lunar eclipse that this guy named Thales was able to predict would happen. What made his prediction notable was the fact that he was neither a prophet or a poet and didn't base his prediction on mythological ideologies; rather, he used basic observations and simple reasoning. So there you have it...Happy Birthday, Western Philosophy!
2. Yesterday was also the birthday of my friend Julie Tackett. Julie, if you are reading this, I made you cupcakes. Unfortunately, there are at my house in Indiana, which makes them, oh, about a thousand miles, give or take, away from you. But the thought is still there. Can that count?
   
3. I needed to make some sort of refreshment for Activity Days tonight, and, well, why not cupcakes? So tonight, before I head over to the church, I will frost a few more cupcakes and maybe even add some sprinkles. Because sprinkles seem to be a fitting way to show my girls that I like them, in spite of -- and maybe even because of-- their constant, pre-hormonal giggling.
   

So there you have it. Cupcakes for everyone!

In Other News...

Blake works to whip Lindsay into shape

Last night Blake and I finally buckled down and started what will hopefully become a regular exercise routine. He's teaching me how to run (because basic running knowledge somehow escaped me during all those years of PE). I'm a little doubtful...not that I don't want to one day be able to just throw on tennis shoes and run to relieve the stress of a long day, because I really do want to learn how to run. However, last night made me remember why I don't run. I think I almost died. Okay, I didn't really. But I do know that if this running thing is going to pan out, it's got to stop hurting so much.

Last night's routine consisted of stretching, jogging, walking (off the pain), sprinting, wheezing, jump roping, and resisting the urge to throw up. Tonight we're going to do it all again, only this time we'll do it on the Cardinal Greenway (which is an asphalt trail not too unlike the Provo River Trail that, in its former life, was once a railroad track). Maybe the Greenway will be more scenic and less peopled than our neighborhood. Wish me luck, because heaven knows I'll need more than my fair share of it.

Animal update

Yesterday we found a squirrel -- the first we've seen in our neighborhood (apparently the chipmunks have staked this as their own territory) -- climbing up our tree looking hungrily at the bird feeder. Well, bird seed being as it is for birds, I stepped outside to shoo it away. Only it turns out that he wasn't eyeing the feeder, he was hiding from an angry robin, who promptly attacked him as he scampered across the lawn and up into another tree. The squirrel appears to be fine, and the robin has cooled down some since.

Also, the chipmunks like peanuts.

NewsRadio on DVD

Turns out that 1) seasons of NewsRadio have been released on DVD, as evidenced by the fact that we found it available for check out at our local library and have been arranging our schedules so as to watch a few episodes, and 2) both Blake and I think this show is hilarious. Huh, small world (okay, so this doesn't really make the world any smaller). Also, Phil Hartman is extremely funny.

Beginning Lives of Even More Abject Poverty

Last night we sat down and closely examined The Financial Situation. After several rounds of dissecting and investigation, we have decided that it is in our best interest to live on an even tighter budget. We'll see how this goes. This is going to take much hard-core discipline (and we thought we were disciplined before -- ha!), but I think it's do-able. Especially because by doing this we will one day be allowed to move up in the world. And that's an exciting thought to consider.

And that's it. For now.

Reasons to Like Muncie: Covered Bridges

I've been told that there are covered bridges all over Indiana. So far I've only seen one. It's called the Cumberland Bridge and it's located about 15 miles north of us in a tiny town called Matthews. According to one of several signs placed both inside the bridge, as well as at the entrance, this bridge was built in New Cumberland, Indiana -- the second community in Grant County, established in 1833 -- and completed in 1877. The man responsible was William Parks of Marion, Indiana. It cost $722, and it spans the Mississinewa River. In 1913 there was a horrible flood that washed the bridge a half mile downstream. Persevering citizens returned the bridge to its foundation by rollers and horsepower and decided that it would be smart to raise the foundation 3 feet so as to avoid a similar incident. It turned out that this was a wise decision because during the flood of 1958, only minor damage was sustained. The bridge was fully restored in 1999 and is a pleasant place to visit.

Blake and I like to visit the bridge when we need to "get away" on a Sunday afternoon. It kind of replaces the drives we used to take up Provo Canyon. (Now, if you could place Midwestern covered bridges throughout Provo Canyon, then I would know for sure that all was right in the world.) If you're up for a thrill, and make sure there is no oncoming traffic, you can drive across the bridge. You can also park next to the cemetery and walk across the bridge, or along the river. It's very pretty. If you happen upon Matthews in the fall, you might get to attend the Matthews Covered Bridge Festival, which celebrates the beauty and history of the Cumberland Bridge by barbecuing ribs and opening up about a thousand flea markets and rummage sales. It's probably the only time of year that Matthews gets much notice, actually, so I guess if it's good for business and de-junking, they why not?

Yes, why not? Why not come to Indiana and let us show you the covered bridges? After all, they're beautiful, bright red, and rickety...what more could you ask for?

The Wildlife In Our Yard

Our yard this spring is full of rabbit families, twitterpated birds, and hungry, burrowing chipmunks. They are very friendly, though I must say they are all easily startled and a wee bit shy. (We really don't mean to startle them so frequently, but what can you do when you open the door to go to church on a Sunday and find that you've interrupted a very important Nature Meeting causing rabbits, chipmunks, and a bunch of birds to scatter like cockroaches in the light? It certainly does make for an awkward situation.) But we certainly enjoy their company. You might also, so let me introduce you to our outdoor neighbors.

I've said it before, and I'll say it again -- the bunnies in our yard are just too precious for words. There are at least 3 who visit us regularly: a mama, a papa, and a baby. Or maybe it's a mama, an aunt, and a baby. Or maybe it's...well, anyway, there are 2 big rabbits and 1 small rabbit. They generally like to hang out in the hedgerow at the edge of the yard. They prefer eating leafy greens, but they did eventually eat the baby carrots we threw to them a couple of weeks ago. Hopefully they know better than to get into the garden, a la Peter Rabbit, that we planted on Saturday. We'll just cross our fingers that they don't like tomatoes, green peppers, zucchini, or cucumber. Or we can at least hope that they can't reach our garden, which we planted in pots on our porch.

The birds in our yard are beautiful and very, very loud. They wake us up every morning -- bright and early. Here is a list of the birds we regularly see:

• Cardinals -- an obviously twitterpated male and female "couple" have discovered the nutritious fulfillment that can be found in our newly purchased bird feeder, which is hanging in front of our livingroom window, and which affords us a lovely view of their eating rituals from our couch. It's actually pretty tender to watch them. The male takes the sole responsibility to make sure his "wife" is fed. He's the one who flies up to the bird feeder, fills his mouth with food, which he then flies down and puts into her mouth. Either that, or he'll shake the feeder as hard as he can so as to knock down some seeds for her to eat off the ground. Cardinals are beautiful birds -- the males are bright red, while the females are more gray, with some red. It's a lot of fun to watch them.
• Sparrows -- another obviously twitterpated male and female sparrow "couple" also like to frequent our bird feeder. We have not yet been able to identify exactly which kind of sparrows these are (as Blake's field guide to eastern birds is buried deep somewhere in a box at his parents house in Texas), but they look kind of like tree sparrows, only without the red heads.
• Robins -- there's nothing incredibly special about the fact that we have robins in our yard because, really, robins live everywhere. But what is kind of neat is the fact that yet another twitterpated robin pair seems to be working to build a nest in the tree in the front yard. At least that's what it appears they are doing as they fly up and down up and down with apparent purpose carrying twigs and things in their beaks.
• Mourning doves -- these birds are elegant, but very loud. Mournfully loud, you might say. Their call sounds kind of like the sad hooting of an owl.
• Blue jays -- we don't see these as often, although Blake did catch one in a bit of a skiff with a cardinal the other day. Word to the wise: blue jays are mean and they like to pick fights, so it would be in your best interest to just stay out of their way.
• Canadian geese -- these never actually land in our yard, although they fly over frequently and sometimes they stop for a break in the muddy field just beyond the hedgerow. These birds are huge, honk very loudly, and it's fun to watch them fly in their V formations.
• Blackbirds and Crows -- not much to say about these except that they are indeed black and they are also everywhere.

We've known for a while about the bazillion chipmunks that like to hang out on our porch. But we didn't realize until this weekend that they seem to have a whole tunnel system under the ground around our door and front porch. There are tiny little holes, just big enough for a chipmunk to fit through, all over, and little mounds here and there where their tunnels got too close to the surface. Our chipmunks, as is the case with most chipmunks, seem to brandish a form of faux bravery which makes them poke around often, but which causes them to startle incredibly easily. Case in point: Twice over the weekend a chipmunk (probably the same one) found a pleasant shady space behind the front tires of our car, which he bolted from immediately as soon as he heard me get in and close the door. They also like to spend quality time on our front porch, chirping loudly and persistently, until one of us opens the front door to sneak a peek or make it be quiet.

So apparently we have now become Nature People. It's fun, though, having such pleasant neighbors.

A Weekend of Incredible Deals

Items we purchased over the weekend:

Incredible Deals:

• Pine entry-way table in primo condition found at a rummage sale for $10.
• A hardly-worn, yet lovely skirt bought at Goodwill for $3.70.
• Two simple, clean, brand-new-looking vases bought at Goodwill for 99 cents each.
• A Stafford brand blue silk tie for Blake on clearance at JC Penny's for $4.77.

Other Deals Which Were Good, Though Perhaps Not Incredible:

• Badly needed tennis shoes for Blake ($25, regularly $40)
• A shirt for Lindsay to wear with her new skirt ($15, regularly $30)
• Basketball shorts for Blake (so we can exercise together) ($10, regularly $20)
• Bird feeder and bird seed ($4.77, and 94 cents)
• Garden supplies, including tools, pots, dirt, plants, tomato cages (approx. $20)

It's weekends of Incredible and Good Deals like this that make me feel like I can find anything for a decent price if I only look hard enough. And that's a good feeling.

An Introduction to the Weekend

It is only 1:30 in the afternoon and I am sleepy. This is most likely because of the fact that I woke up at 5:00 this morning to attend seminary one last time. Today was the very last day of seminary and in honor of that fact, the bishops of the two wards (who also happen to be the husbands of two of the teachers) cooked all the students a delicious breakfast. Because I'd taught the seniors for a good portion of this last semester, I was invited back to partake of the feast with them. It was hard to wake up, but it was good to hang out with my class again. They are really good kids and I guess I didn't realize till this morning just how much I'd grown to love them. I found myself getting all wishy-washy when Joe told me that he was graduating the next morning or when I was told about Sam receiving an amazing four-year-full-tuition scholarship to any school in Indiana (and Indiana happens to be stuffed full of amazing institutions of higher learning!). I was given invitations to the graduation open houses for Kara and Kendra (which we'll be going to tonight), as well as for Alison. I love them, and I felt loved in return. It's a strange relationship a teacher develops with her students and vice versa, one that I think you can only understand if you've ever played the part of the teacher.

Well, so yes...tonight a graduation open house. But first we'll stop by the store and get the girls a small gift because, you know, we can't attend an event like this empty handed. However, there's the problem that we're poor. I don't want to get them something tacky and cheap, and I don't feel like I could give them money or a gift card because it wouldn't be a very substantial amount. So I'm leaning towards getting them each a pretty flower and writing them both a nice card. What say you? Good idea? Bad idea? No matter...I'll probably go with it anyway. Tomorrow morning Blake and I are going to hit a neighborhood rummage sale. Our big plan was originally to head straight to one house at 7:00 sharp to further investigate an advertised washer/dryer for sale, but I realized this morning that that particular rummage sale actually started this morning, so the w/d is most likely long gone by now. However, it's a nice neighborhood that's hosting this other rummage sale, so maybe we'll get lucky. It would also be nice tomorrow to plant our little garden. We're planning to grow tomatoes, maybe green peppers, perhaps a few flowers, etc. in planter pots on our porch. Hopefully my green thumb is ready for some dirt. I might also go out tomorrow and look for a skirt and/or top to wear to my brother's wedding...I don't want to be the only one not dressed in scarlet, orange, or hot pink. With colors like that, I almost better play along or threaten to stick out in a too-neutral way. Oh, and of course there must be the weekly trip to Aldi for milk and other edible basics. Meanwhile Blake and I will continue to investigate our options for an inexpensive "new" computer. The one we've got now is ancient in technological terms and has just about seen the biscuit. Plus, it'd be nice to have a computer that would allow for us to get hooked up to the internet at home. Wish us luck on that one...it certainly is becoming quite the quest.

Hmm...so, that last paragraph ended up being long and list-y, which I didn't initially intend it to be. I guess there's a lot going on in my life this weekend fighting for space in my paragraphs. Well, here's hoping, anyway, for at least a little bit of relaxation this weekend.

Reasons to Like Muncie: Its Proximity to Mooreland and That Girl Named Zippy

If you have not yet read A Girl Named Zippy: Growing Up Small in Mooreland, Indiana or its sequel, She Got Up Off the Couch: And Other Heroic Acts from Mooreland, Indiana by Haven Kimmel, you really need to stop reading this right now, go to your public library, and check them out. And then you must read them. Because they are hilarious. And also because Mooreland is only 30 minutes from Muncie and I have been there.

Mooreland is a tiny town in the middle of rural farmland; it's hardly a dot on the map. But it's cool, because Zippy (aka Haven Kimmel) lived there and wrote funny stories about her adventures growing up there. A Girl Named Zippy recounts her early childhood and includes events such as her sisters beauty pageant win at the Mooreland Free Fair, an unfortunate encounter with a finger-biting rabbit, a door-removing ordeal between her older brother and bathroom-hogging sister, and purposefully trying to lose her pink Bible so she wouldn't have to attend services with her mother at the Mooreland Friends Church. It's a charming book, and its sequel, She Got Up Off the Couch, is just as fabulous, albeit a little more sobering. This book tells of her mother's heroic act of getting up off her spot on the couch (which after many years of sitting there reading book-mobile books now has a permanent impression of someone curled up comfortably with a favorite read) and going back to school to get a degree from Ball State University against her father's wishes. It tells of such adventures during Zippy's adolescent years as the time she broke her arm roller skating, the many times she had to deal with living in a dirty, mouse-infested home, and the loneliness she felt when her sister "abandoned" her, got married, and started her own family.

Last August, shortly after we moved to Indiana, Blake and I paid a visit to Mooreland at the request of my mom who wanted pictures of it to show at her next book club meeting (wherein they would be discussing Zippy). The drive to get there is beautiful...farmland interrupted by a few rolling hills and groves of shady trees. Zippy was right to infer that to blink would be to miss Mooreland entirely. We drove around this tiny town looking for Zippy Landmarks several times in about only about 5 minutes. We found the Mooreland Friends Church, the Marathon station her friend's family owned (though it is now out of business), the cemetery. As luck would have it, we also arrived in Mooreland during the Mooreland Free Fair, so of course we had to stop and take a look around. It was the most charming small-town fair I've ever seen (and also the only small-town fair I've ever seen, but certainly that doesn't detract from its charm). We will definitely be going back this August, and maybe this time we'll be better prepared to participate more in the festivities...maybe we'll even ride the rickety, portable ferris wheel!

So yeah, Mooreland...a tiny town I know you'd be sorry to miss. So get reading those Zippy books and we'll take you on a short literary tour when you come.

And Now, We Turn To You, Lindsay, For The Weather

This post brought to you by Google Images.

We've had our fair share of solid storms this spring here in Indiana, including another one just last night. For those of you who may be unacquainted with the particulars of Midwestern storms, I had Google Images take some pictures for you to give you a taste of what it's like.

First the sky turns dark and ominous. Usually it becomes black or very dark gray. Sometimes though, depending on the time of day or the severity of the storm, it may turn purple (when the storm interrupts sunset) or green (duck and cover, this could get ugly!).

Then it starts to rain so hard you can hardly see and it can become so loud you can hardly hear and you end up having to shout to the person sitting next to you in the car if you want him to hear what you're saying. This happened last night as were out and about running a few errands. The already wet ground becomes so overly saturated that mild flooding begins. This also happened last night. Some streets get so bad you can't even drive through them for fear of ruining your car.

And then, there's the lightning. And what a show it can be! Usually the lightning shows spider across the sky, and during some storms the show is pretty constant. The lightning is accompanied by long roars of house-shaking thunder, such as the particularly long clap that welcomed the missionaries we had over for dinner last night just as they were heading back out into the great outdoors on their way to another appointment.

Sometimes during these storms, funnel clouds form. And sometimes these funnel clouds touch the ground and become tornadoes. Though in our short time here we have seen more than our fair share of tornado warnings (as in, conditions for a tornado are perfect and forming funnel clouds may have been spotted in the area), we have not yet experienced an actual tornado. Hopefully, we never do. Just hearing Muncie's tornado sirens sound during practice runs is enough to make the hair on my arms spike and tingle.

When the storm's over, though, it really is over. The clouds clear out, the sky brightens, and everything, though still soaked, feels very refreshed and clean. This morning when we left our apartment, the sun was out (finally!), the birds were singing, and it was, well, very nice. Spring storms have a tendency to be very frightening to one such as myself, but they are exciting, to say the least. Winter storms...well, winter storms are another story entirely. We'll cover those another day.

Cross your fingers that Muncie dries up and stays dry enough for the weekend rummage sales to go on as planned. Blake and I have our eyes on a used washer and dryer which we are planning to investigate further Saturday morning at 7:00 sharp.

Update, 1 hour after the original writing of this post: Well, so much for the singing birds and sunshine...we're back to rain, thunder, and hovering dark clouds. Again. Good grief.

Now, Don't Think I Do This Every Day...

Yesterday was a long day. By the time Blake and I got home from work/school/church activities/whathaveyou, all we wanted to do was heat up spaghetti and meatball leftovers and lounge on the couch. So we did. We turned on the TV, put our feet up, and unfortunately found that the only thing on that was half-way decent was American Idol. We are by no means American Idol fans, so don't get any ideas. But you see, we were left with no other vegging options. So we watched, and by the end of the show we had mutually decided that if we were to call in and vote, we'd vote for Taylor because, well, he's a decent singer and he has charisma, which is a definite plus. Then we got to thinking, well, wouldn't it be funny if we really did vote? And we mutually decided that yes, yes it would be funny. And then next thing we knew, we were dialing the American Idol Vote-For-Taylor Hotline (which we had accidentally memorized after hearing it advertised 50,000 times). And yes, it was funny. But please don't blame us for potentially messing with the results of the contest because we didn't actually get through.

Good heavens, I feel like I'm 15!

Reasons to Like Muncie: The Jar Museum

Muncie, as it turns out, is home to the world's largest collection of canning jars. Owned by Phillip Robinson and housed in the garage next door to his house, this collection of over 4000 includes glass jars of every color, brand, and style imaginable. While the concept of a Jar Museum is a little bizarre at first, a quick tour proves it to be actually quite charming. And, given the glass jar heritage the Ball brothers gave to Muncie, also quite fitting.

In his former life, Mr. Robinson was Reverend Robinson. He is also a veteran of two wars: WWII and the Korean War. He began his jar collection in the early '70s and has been adding to it ever since. His interest in jars turned his hobby of jar lid making into a small business and people all over the area turn to him when they need a lid replaced or repaired (so bring your lid-less jars when you come! He has also been known to pay top dollar for your more rare jars). At age 83, Mr. Robinson is ever the delightful person, always willing to give you a tour of the Museum if you're willing to knock on his door and ask him for one. Sometimes, though, if the weather is pleasant, he will wait for his visitors on a bench in his yard.

The Jar Museum won't cost you anything to visit. In fact, one time the city of Muncie told him to close up shop because he didn't have a business license. Mr. Robinson was mildly bewildered because after all, why did he need a business license if he wasn't charging admission? It puzzled him for a while, but eventually he applied for his license and is once again welcoming visitors from all over the world.

Blake and I have been to the Jar Museum twice: once because we were curious, and again because we just had to show my mom and brother, Tyler, when they poked their heads in for a quick visit last December. (Ask them...they'll tell you it's worth the trip!) My first thought upon entering both times was, "Holy cow! Jars come in this many colors?" Yes, my friends, they really do: clear, blue, gold, purple, pink, brown, green, orange. It's pretty amazing, if you stop long enough to think about it. This little museum is packed wall to wall with thousands of jars -- some on shelves, some in boxes on the floor, some placed haphazardly on the window sills or balanced on top of each other.

It's quite the collection--an interesting slice of history. You really should come see it. We'll take you when you come to Muncie.

Reasons to Like Muncie*: Flowers

I didn't take this picture, but I may as well have because this is what Indiana looks like right now. Everything is coming up goldenrod. It's beautiful. And it's everywhere! When (or maybe I should say If) it ever stops raining (which it hopefully will by Memorial Day because we have plans to go up north to rub elbows with the Amish), I will see about taking a picture of the Goldenrod of Muncie. And maybe, if I develop my film in a decent amount of time, and hunt down a scanner, I will upload it here for you to also enjoy. In the meantime, though, someone else's picture will have to suffice.

*This is the First Part in what may or may not become a series of, yes, you guessed it, Reasons to Like Muncie. If necessary, you can use them as additional reasons to come visit us while we are here. Otherwise, please just read and enjoy and try to ignore those twinges of jealousy that may arise because of the fact that we are here and you are not.

Four Reasons + One Why Getting the Mail Was Fun Today

1. Wedding Announcement from Rebecca Nelson. She was my student teaching partner at Orem Jr. High a year and a half ago and is a great friend. Also, her nephew is serving as a missionary in my ward. Small world!

2. Wedding Announcement from Colleen. She is my cousin and is a sweet girl. Also, she's getting married in the temple which is always exciting news to hear.

3. A (Future) Mother's Day Card from my sister-in-law, Kimberly. I think this has to be the first Happy Mother's Day greetings I've ever received. Also, I think she's as excited to some day be an aunt as I am to someday be a mother.

4. A Thank You Card from my seminary class. I guess they liked me as a teacher, even though I only taught for 7 weeks. Anyway, it was a very sweet card that they all signed. Also, this card included an invite to the end-of-year breakfast this Friday, as well as a photo magnet of the whole class (which now has found a fine home on my refrigerator).

There was a lovely marked absence of credit card applications ("I don't care if I'm pre-approved!") and ads for direct TV in today's mail. It was a lovely mail day indeed. Thank you, Mailman.

A Wet Weekend in the Forecast

It's raining here...still. Everything is soggy and you can hardly walk two steps without having a run-in with a puddle. Last night I did laundry, and as I sloshed through the rain-soaked grass to get to the laundry room, I kept wishing for the day when I own a washer and dryer of my very own and no longer have to make trips to the laundry room in the rain. Someday...someday...

In other news, it is Friday. Which means that the weekend is upon us, thank heavens. Tomorrow Blake will go to work in the morning and I will go to a baby shower. Also, I will go rummage saling with my friend, Gillian, and plan a Relief Society lesson to teach on Sunday. And, weather permitting, we will plant a tomato garden in pots on our porch. Please excuse me while I go search for my green thumb.

How To Tour Indy For Free

This weekend, because Blake so successfully finished his first year of his masters program (he got a 4.0!!! which is very exciting, but he totally deserved it, that Hard Working Boy) and because I needed some Work Pants (aka: Career Pants), we trekked to Indianapolis (which will from henceforth be referred to as Indy, because that's what the locals call it, which automatically makes it the "cool" thing to say). It was truckloads of free, relaxed fun. First we shopped and successfully found some pants. (I don't know about you, but shopping for pants -- and especially Absolutely Needed Pants -- can pretty much make any shopping experience miserable because first of all they're never long enough, and second of all, they're too big in the waist, and if they fit perfectly, they cost too much. It's an on-going battle I fight: Pants vs. Me. And usually the pants win. But they didn't on Saturday. Or at least, we were able to call a temporary truce. And now I have two pair of Career Pants.)

After the Battle of the Pants, we went downtown, and did everything free that we possibly could in the time we had. First we got free parking (because the meters are free on weekends), then we gave ourselves a free tour of the capitol building (it's beautiful and ornate and even has Pennsylvania Dutch flowers hand drawn on the ceiling). Then we walked a block and arrived at Monument Circle which we walked around (for free). (Here's a picture of Monument Circle. It's basically a big roundabout at the center of downtown with a big war monument in the center. Then we inspected the Monument itself. Turns out that you can go all the way up to an observation deck at the top of the monument, and it's free, if you're willing to climb 300 stairs (as opposed to paying $1 per person for the elevator). Because we're poor and in need of exercise, we climbed. And boy howdy, are we paying for it now! Our legs are indeed sore. (Here's another picture of the monument.) We also walked along the Canal (for free) and resisted the temptation to push each other in the water (which would also have been free), and then toured the free lobby exhibits at the Indiana State Museum. We also browsed in the gift shop of the Indiana Historical Society (which turned out to be free because we didn't buy anything). Whew! It was definitely a free, yet fulfilling weekend. :) All righty, that's enough of Indy. Fun place, that. We'll have to do more exploring this summer, now that's it's warmer than -10 degrees and it is actually tempting to go outside.

The weekend was also notable in that it was Kentucky Derby weekend. We watched one race, which was thrilling and patriotic in a country gambling sort of way. All the ladies who go wear awesome big genteel hats and just looking at them makes me feel southern. Horse racing out here is almost as big of a deal as NASCAR racing (and I'm seeing the signs that that's big, too....the Indy 500 is supposedly coming up right quick). We celebrated that by making and stuffing ourselves with Derby Pie, which is heavenly and which you must eat at least once before you die.

A Job's a Job

I don't really know what to say about my job, but I think I need to spit something out to help me appreciate it more because right now I’m feeling bored and un-needed. Really though, in all honesty, it's a good job that allows us to survive, even though it's not my favorite thing in the world. Very often there's not a lot to do, so I just end up stewing about the fact that I'd rather be elsewhere. Basically, I work in an economic/community development office called Building Better Communities on the Ball State campus. It's part of the university, but at the same time it's not...kind of complicated. The directors in the office head up projects throughout Indiana to help improve communities throughout the state. My job is to maintain an online database of funding available to communities for economic/community development, plus the piddly things that come along. Here's our website: www.bsu.edu/cecd. You can search through there if you'd like. It may or may not be more clear than what I just said. :) So, it's a good job, and I work with good people, and there's definitely some potential, but right now I feel somewhat dissatisfied with it all. Anyway, that was a depressing paragraph. Sorry.

So, in other more springtime-y news, we have, we discovered, not one rabbit or even just two rabbits, but a whole little family of rabbits living in our front yard. They are precious beyond words. We saw the first Baby Rabbit out with its Mama just the other day. But Mama Rabbit, being the good protective mother that she is, wouldn't let me take a picture of Baby Rabbit. Instead she just hustled him/her into the shrubbery under the pine tree. Ah well, they'll come out again to eat the leafy greens our front yard has to offer.

Last night the elders came over to give us a lesson on How To Be Good Member Missionaries and The Correct Way To Bear Your Testimony To Others. It was a nice little spiritual lesson. I've been inspired. And now I just need to follow through. It's hard, though, to be a good member missionary. I'm pretty good about being a good member example, but I have such a hard time talking about the church. I don't know why. I want to share the gospel, I really do, but I am seriously lacking in guts.

Flying to Utah

So, because of the extreme generosity of my brother, Tyler, and his lovely fiancée whom I’ve never met but have gotten to know over email and have decided that she’s pretty great, Amanda, we get to fly to Utah for his wedding. Which means more time to vacation. We are very excited, not only about an imminent vacation, but because we don't have to drive a grand total of 3,216 miles. We’re planning some sort of mass friendly get-together so we can see everyone (or as many people as possible), so when we know the details on that, we’ll be sure to let you all know.