Hello Love

At 10:00 pm I drove to Lagoon to pick up  Mira and friend. The night was overcast and hot, with lightening crashing over the Great Salt Lake. It had been a slow day where I dabbled in cleaning and gardening but ultimately ended up watching Parks and Rec and staring at a ceiling fan, too hot for much else. 

Mira and friend were tan and happy. They took their wet shoes off and the whole car smelled like rot.  "Never go on a water ride at Lagoon, especially at the beginning of the day--our feet were so squishy and wet," they said. We stopped for gas and the girls bounded into the station for Pringles and candy bars. They were short on money but the attendant said it didn't matter, they could take their treats anyway. 

The Pitch Perfect Pandora station played all of our favorite cheesy songs and we sang along, 🎶🎶 "It's been a long time without you my friend and I'll tell you all about it when I see you again." Dumb lyrics but we sang them loud with no irony.

My phone lay on the passenger seat and beeped away with messages from my friends. The moon full, the air muggy, the lightening now behind us. 

We will go to bed but won't sleep and in the morning Maxwell, Mira, Abby and I will eat pancakes at Tom and Louise's. We will talk about our dreams - the bright, bright futures. 

 

And we'll do a summer day again--unconsciously dawdling through the hours, each seeking our own plot of joy. 

My Girl Anne-

After the long and weary graduation ceremony, we gathered at Rodizio Grill. Anne sat across the table from me and behind her was a view of the mountains, storm clouds and the darkening sky. We all ate too much (as people do at Rodizio's) and talked about the things on our minds: Anne and Spencer's upcoming move, whether it would be good to reincarnate into a tree, modern day slavery, Shar's progressing disease, Charles's new love/hate relationship to vegetables, our upcoming vacation, and Charles's funny letters to Harrison. 

The Cleveland Cavaliers and Chicago Bulls game played on the flat screens. Our Brazilian servers gathered at the TVs and we paused our eating and talking to watch the last moments of the game. The whole restraunt erupted at Derrick Rose's three-point winning shot.

All the while I was gleaming. I've had many lucky stars shine down on my life, and having Anne for a daughter is perhaps the luckiest. Yes, I'm proud, but mainly I just love her--this skinny, brilliant girl with wild hair, a love for justice and a deep, abiding love for the people of this world. 

Amen. 

Point Blank

There are some awesome things about my life.

For instance, this guy... :) 

1. There is a library at my work. In some ways this is a hazard because I hop down to drop off copies and an hour later pull myself out of the stacks--having read, thumbed through, and touched hundreds of books.

2. The people I work with read books. This is an ultimate luxury since most work places only discuss the latest Fox news story or the Bachelor. I go to a book group every single day.

3. There are movies in the world like Dumb and Dumber, Nacho Libre, Tommy Boy, and Hot Rod. I'm a new convert to these movies. I spent my twenties and most my thirties watching snooty movies made from classical literature and produced in foreign countries. What a bore! I laugh to myself over the scene in Dumb and Dumber with the bus load of bikini babes all the time.

2. I was raised in a big-old family. Yeah, I still eat too fast because I'm afraid I won't get my fair share of food. But seriously, 5 brothers? And the sweetest sister? A mom who always played the piano and a dad who looked equally beautiful in a tuxedo or dickies. Such a quirky and loving group of people. Who else gets that lucky?

3. I'm still dropping eggs (the older I get, the more that means).

4. Everything I pray for, I get. All I do is get on my knees and say "God, you're the best which is why I know this and this and this is going to happen" and it does. I mean Harrison pulled himself out of his anime zombie overdose and went on a mission. I had the money I needed when I needed it. I love teenagers every day. All miracles I tell you.

5. I was raised before the Internet. The best thing ever. I played the piano, pretended to be a newscaster, climbed cherry trees, wrote for hours in a journal, made cookies, played night games, fought, roller skated, listened to the radio (hoping my favorite song would come on).  

Harrison and the Case of the Ghost Pepper

According to an anthropologist working in the Chang village of Hakchang in 1922, the bhut jolokia (commonly known as the ghost pepper) was used to cook the head of an enemy, the pepper was placed in the boiling water along with the head making the flesh slide easily off the skull. 

Bhut jolokia have also been used to create weapons, specifically ghost pepper grenades which were used in Kashmir to ward off protestors. 

Many watch men eat bhut jolokia on YouTube. Once swallowed, the men cry and say F words giving Americans a entertaining ten minutes. 

One day Harrison went to work as a checker at Harmon's; this was his senior year of high school and none of the dangers of bhut jolokia entered his mind. When another employee dared him to eat a ghost pepper, he popped one in his mouth and swallowed. 

I don't know how he got home that night. Charles and I were both asleep in bed. At 2:30 in the morning Charles woke--it was apparent that one of our children was sick. Charles opened the door to the children's bathroom and Harrison lay on the floor, naked, and curled into a ball.

"I ate a ghost pepper," he said. 

"Why did you do that?" asked Charles. 

"Someone dared me."

Apparently the diarrhea was so frequent that he gave up trying to sleep in his own bed, opting for the bathroom floor between toilet sessions. 

He had to take a sick day from school, the same school where I work. I walked into the attendance office and told Kimberly that I needed to excuse Harrison for the day explaining that he had eaten a ghost pepper. She nodded her head, asked no questions, and recorded the excusal. 

So many people to love.

In Sugar House there was once this college girl running past my house toward the bus stop, but she was too late and missed the bus. I was also headed to the University of Utah so asked if she needed a ride, and she happily hopped in my car. Turns out she worked at Great Harvest Bread.  So, for the next several years, when I would hop into Great Harvest for some bread, she'd charge me .50 cents per loaf. I got 4 loaves of bread for 2 dollars. I think about that girl sometimes and her bright eyes and nose ring. I think about how she told me once she grew up in Europe and remembers traveling to castles, museums, and gardens, but in her memory she never knows where she was, what country, or what city. Just castles, museums, and gardens like an extended dream or overdose. 

Good Morning

I don't sleep well these days. I have stopped fighting my early wakings and just enjoy the wee hours of the morning. Charles sleeps next to me. The world is still black. I notice my own breathing and am grateful for the five hours of sleep I did receive. 

I read the news on my phone during the wee hours. I read the Salt Lake Tribune, the New York Times, New York Mag, and NPR. This morning I read about a man dying while repelling in Bells Canyon, and a review of Denis Johnson's new book, The Laughing Monsters. Denis Johnson is such an extraordinary writer, I'm excited just to know another one of his books exists in the world. 

I scroll Facebook and Instagram. This morning I am happy that my friends have been to a Slow Dive concert in LA. I know a lot of wonderful people. 

I try to ward off thoughts of what I have to do or any regrets. But they creep in. On the day of Anne's wedding, I wore a very professional looking outfit. I wanted to look older than I am. I didn't want to answer a lot of questions about my age. I regret that outfit. (It didn't work either. I still had to answer questions about my age.) I should have worn something that was me...that showed how happy I was to have been able to raise a daughter like Anne and how happy I was to bring Spencer into our family. Today, the day of Harrison's farewell, I will wear a new dress. It is my favorite. It is happy. I don't care if I look sort of like a hippie. It is me. 

I was up late last night with Harrison. He was writing his missionary farewell talk. He had written a fine talk but it needed more vulnerability, more testimony, and more discussion of faith. I gave advice and for once he followed. Harrison is adorable. I wish I could raise him over again. I would bury my face in his cheek and neck. I would sit next to him more because that is what he loves--for someone to sit next to him. 

I will not go back to sleep. As time passes, my stomach begins to hurt. This is every morning. It is the I'm-scared-of-life-belly-ache. I've learned that this is okay. And I am okay. There are a lot of things I wish about myself. I wish I was closer to other women. I wish I wasn't so tired all the time. I wish I was a better teacher. I am approaching 40. They say the forties are a magnificent time for women...they become comfortable in their own skin, they aren't so wrapped up in whether they are worthy and just are who they are. I'm beginning to feel the forties hinting already. I think my forties will be good to me.

I spent the last year studying Christ. I read a book by a Presbyterian minister called Encounters with Jesus. I recommend it to anyone who wishes to understand Christ more fully (spoiler: He is the living water).  I spent many hours praying and practicing faith and humility. 

I have received miracles this year--little and big. And I have received healing and have needed healing. 

I am an avid feminist. I am a flaming liberal. I believe with all my heart that the path to a great society is through care for the poor and needy and education. Only 10 percent of Mormons are democrats. This week in the news a bishop published on his blog that leading democrats are not worthy of a temple recommend because their beliefs don't align with church principles. Church head quarters were swift in making a statement that the bishop was out of line, but I feel the sentiment the bishop articulated is strong within our church congregations. Many of my close liberal friends have left because they didn't feel like there is room for them in Mormon congregations. I had a terrible experience within my ward a couple years ago that left me shaken. 

I have thought a lot about why I stay. For one, I remember being in nursery at church. I remember singing fun songs and looking at pictures of scripture stories. I remember my first moments of believing and I have never wanted to go back and tell 3-year-old me that she was wrong, since I have always known that 3-year-old me is the right one--the one who looks at a picture and believes.

I feel loved, adored, and cherished by God. I never would have known what it means to have a broken heart and a contrite spirit if I didn't spend so many hours sitting in pews, struggling to understand. It has been a beautiful journey of doubt and discovery. And I count myself lucky to have a God who has taken the time to help me know His truths. 

Happy Sabbath my beautiful friends. 

Quick Write

Highlights.

First of all I love my students this year. They are dorky for sure but so full of energy and happiness and I'm glad to glean a little bit of their joy.

Next, I am writing. For reals.

Also, I went to Moab and I love Moab. I love Moab more than New York City, more than Yellowstone. I think I would love Moab more than Paris, more than San Diego. But not more than Hawaii. Nothing is better than Hawaii. But Moab is mine.

I rode my bike next to Maxwell for miles and miles and miles. If you have teenage children, you know what a rare pleasure that is.

I have been reading like a mad-woman. Some books are wonderful. Some books suck. Some books by fancy people on fancy lists suck.

I downloaded Crime and Punishment. What the hell was I thinking? I'm going to read it like a good booky sort of person should. My kindle says it will take me 20 hours to read it--and adds another hour every few pages. Why do I have a kindle that consistently calls me a dumb, slow reader? Why can't it just lie to me like Ann Taylor when she says I'm a size 2? I'm also reading a lot of crap teen fiction so that I can recommend that my students read it...why? Because (Take a breath here! This is 2 years of college coming out right now) students think adult books are crappy.

Also, I got a package in the mail from Kimberly. She sent me clothes from India and I am wearing one today. And she sent me a postcard with a picture of Frida Kahlo and I was planning to be Frida Kahlo for Halloween. How strange that after all these years our hearts still beat to the same drummer. You can take the girl out of Provo, but you can't take the Wild-Bohemian-Provo-Amazonian out of the girl.

Happy Afternoon!