I like music. Especially Keane's kind.
Saturday, August 20, 2011
Friday, August 19, 2011
Missing
People have said this before: You never know what you have until it's gone. People have said it way too many times before. So let me suggest this one instead:
I love my sister.
I've never had anyone in my family leave my house before, not for an extended period of time, at least. A week. Maybe two weeks. But this was always with the confidence that, after a week, or maybe two weeks, they'd be back and lo and behold ALL IS WELL IN THE WELL.
In fact, more often than not for the past, what, eight years? There's been an extra person living with us--a cousin working here or schooling here or marrying here. For our family out of town, we were the perfect hotel (as long as they didn't mind some messes and lack of room service). So eight of us were always sitting at dinner or kneeling for prayer, and when somebody was gone, they were missed. And when our working-schooling-marrying-cousin left for good, the trite phrase at family prayer became: "It feels like someone's missing..." Because all of a sudden our eight was seven, which was the normal number of family members, but not for us.
Our family is young. A lot of my friends are the second youngest or youngest in their families, but we were always young. We've watched each other as we've grown. And we've occasionally forgotten that he was in fifth grade or she was in eighth grade, but it didn't matter, because Betty's sister was getting married and Maggie's brother was going on a mission. They were the old families. We were young.
When Lynzi graduated, it wasn't that weird. Remember? We'd watched her grow up. She was the oldest so it wasn't that weird to see her donned in blue and throwing her cap in the air. It wasn't that weird when she started going to ASU because she came home every night, even if it was after F.H.E. with her ward or something.
"It won't even be that different if Lynzi leaves for BYU," I said, "because she's gone all the time anyway."
But we didn't know that Lynzi was going to BYU until later this summer. What did I say then?
"It won't even be that different when Lynzi leaves for BYU because she's gone all the time anyway."
But I forgot what happened when our eight became seven! And when seven becomes six? I'd never felt that before.
It's not like when someone's gone for a week or two. I have my own bathroom. I only share the upstairs with my parents. Looking around at Lynzi's scant and disarranged room made me very, very sad.
Those people who use that cliche aren't really so bad. They only say it because it's true.You never know when you have an awesome, fun, righteous, kind, loving, good-exampling, stick-up-for-you kind of good older sister until she goes to BYU. You never know the extent of her awesomeness and goodness until she leaves, for reals.
Our only comfort is that she's in the hands of good ol' BYU, and Rachel Schlappi.
Thanks goodness it's only Utah.
I love my sister.
I've never had anyone in my family leave my house before, not for an extended period of time, at least. A week. Maybe two weeks. But this was always with the confidence that, after a week, or maybe two weeks, they'd be back and lo and behold ALL IS WELL IN THE WELL.
In fact, more often than not for the past, what, eight years? There's been an extra person living with us--a cousin working here or schooling here or marrying here. For our family out of town, we were the perfect hotel (as long as they didn't mind some messes and lack of room service). So eight of us were always sitting at dinner or kneeling for prayer, and when somebody was gone, they were missed. And when our working-schooling-marrying-cousin left for good, the trite phrase at family prayer became: "It feels like someone's missing..." Because all of a sudden our eight was seven, which was the normal number of family members, but not for us.
Our family is young. A lot of my friends are the second youngest or youngest in their families, but we were always young. We've watched each other as we've grown. And we've occasionally forgotten that he was in fifth grade or she was in eighth grade, but it didn't matter, because Betty's sister was getting married and Maggie's brother was going on a mission. They were the old families. We were young.
When Lynzi graduated, it wasn't that weird. Remember? We'd watched her grow up. She was the oldest so it wasn't that weird to see her donned in blue and throwing her cap in the air. It wasn't that weird when she started going to ASU because she came home every night, even if it was after F.H.E. with her ward or something.
"It won't even be that different if Lynzi leaves for BYU," I said, "because she's gone all the time anyway."
But we didn't know that Lynzi was going to BYU until later this summer. What did I say then?
"It won't even be that different when Lynzi leaves for BYU because she's gone all the time anyway."
But I forgot what happened when our eight became seven! And when seven becomes six? I'd never felt that before.
It's not like when someone's gone for a week or two. I have my own bathroom. I only share the upstairs with my parents. Looking around at Lynzi's scant and disarranged room made me very, very sad.
Those people who use that cliche aren't really so bad. They only say it because it's true.You never know when you have an awesome, fun, righteous, kind, loving, good-exampling, stick-up-for-you kind of good older sister until she goes to BYU. You never know the extent of her awesomeness and goodness until she leaves, for reals.
Our only comfort is that she's in the hands of good ol' BYU, and Rachel Schlappi.
Thanks goodness it's only Utah.
Wednesday, August 3, 2011
Memories
In the days before school starts, dreams of--whaddya know--SCHOOL haunt me.
So let's forget about THAT THING and remember THIS THING.
So let's forget about THAT THING and remember THIS THING.
Ah, the beautiful mountains. Pine trees, open blue skies, huge clouds, pleasant breezes, cool rains...
And cows. Don't forget them. They loved plodding through our camp--day or night.
Aaaaand this guy. He wanted to get in our garbage. Maybe I shouldn't have led him on with that piece of pancake...aw well. He was cute.
I miss these beauties--tiny, but bright and happy all the same.
I don't miss these fingernails. But hey, it's all part of the camping spirit, isn't it? (As is Pokemon Yahtzee)
White. Perfect.
I miss little things like this, too, laying all around camp. Cute. I also miss the little guys who sat in them. Not to say that those little guys won't be at my grandma's house next Sunday. They live close by. Nevertheless, something about toddlers in the mountains...*sniff* It just gets me.
And these dudes, bien sur. Love 'em love 'em love 'em.
Ah.
Nothing like Rook in the mountains!
I LOVE TREES SO MUCH REAL ONES TALL ONES GREEN ONES THAT HAVE PRETTY GRAY SKIES IN THE BACKGROUND I LLLLOVE THEM!
I'm gonna miss wearing these pants. You can't really see them, but...they are soo comfortable. Fuzzies, see? Comfortable.
The scriptures are always nearby so I won't miss them. But scriptures are infinitely enhanced in the clear mountain air, where there's nothing to distract you but the brisk breeze that seems to bring the very Spirit with it as it wooshes through camp...
I guess I won't miss these guys that much. But he is cool looking, non?
I will most definitely miss this stuff. IT'S RAIN, if you can't tell. Loverly loverly rain.
Rain that simply sparkles on the tips of pine needles...Loverly.
Oh, and this too...Just loverly...
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