It's morning!
An unusual time of day to write for me.
I woke up this morning, in my newly painted bedroom (which, by the way, looks fantastic) to an open window looking out at an overcast sky and a room that smelled like a summer morning. I'm still sitting here at my desk, which is now facing the windows, and looking out the window. I feel like this view could be so much more beautiful if I didn't live in a subdivision and there were green, rolling hills, beyond which lay the ocean, instead of a row of houses facing me from the opposite street. But, you can't have everything. So, I content myself with looking over the roofs at the big, blue sky (the overcast didn't last long) and pretending that I was looking at those green hills and the grey ocean.
Pretending. I'm still pretending..... It always amuses me when people try and disillusion themselves by saying you have to stop pretending at a certain point, and that you have to grow up.
It has been my observation of those around me, and of myself, that growing up hardly means stop pretending. If anything, growing up is just an excuse to pretend even more.
...That's a little too deep for 10 0'clock in the morning, isn't it?
How about something more superfluous?
Okay, then.
Confession: I absolutely cannot stand it when people run around with their toothbrushes in their mouths. It bothers me so much. It's not like you're saving any time by doing that. You can't multitask while brushing your teeth, because you're using your hands. So just stay over the sink. It's gross and pointless to try and put your shoes on while brushing your teeth. You just end up making a mess and making yourself angry.... and making me upset, too. Because I have to look at you.
Okay. Mini-rant over. That just really bothers me, it always has.
.... I would love to stay in this position and keep writing for awhile, but my mother has just informed me she needs me to make a pie-crust for her. Or something like that. She's getting ready for work. I don't know.
.....I have a feeling that this is one of those days when I have a really low tolerance for things I find annoying.
Great. I'm supposed to be around people all day, too. Peachy.
Well, wish me luck, and a vanilla soy latte.... They are my one, true vice.
:)
Happy day, followers.
Have some fun in the sunshine for me!
Friday, July 30, 2010
Saturday, July 24, 2010
Some Things Look Better Just Passing Through
Viewer Discretion: This post has the potential of being horribly sad. It was to me, anyways.
There are a lot of songs, and a lot of words, and a lot of quotes uttered from the mouths of other poets and dreamers that can accurately portray the emotions behind my eyes.... But for some reason, I can't seem to get them out of my own mouth very well. Very rarely do I find myself speechless, or hardput for the right words to describe how I feel.
I've been doing a lot of reliving, the past couple of days. Reliving of the past, of days gone by, of beautiful moments buried within treasured memories......And I've learned that living in the past is a dangerous thing. Not only does it make you yearn for the happiest times that you can't recreate, no matter how hard you try- but it also makes you realize just how much you've changed since the days those memories were born in. And that is the most saddest part of all.
I repainted my room. It's the start of a new phase of life for me.... the last phase of life before I leave home. Each day passes like the hand of a clock, ticking away hour after hour, until the final countdown begins. I can already feel the goodbyes surfacing. I think they've been subtly settling their way into my life for a while now, I'm only just now realizing that I've been letting go all along. I've said goodbye to so many things this past week, I don't really know what to say to anything anymore, except for goodbye.
I've said goodbye to that spirited thirteen year-old, wearing fingerless gloves and sporting chipped, black nailpolish. The one with the dark eyeliner and the Green Day t-shirts.....
I've said goodbye to the infantile seven year-old. The one dancing in her room to The Beach Boys, pretending things only the beautiful mind of a child can imagine....
The angsty fourteen year-old, who only listened to bitter lovesongs and bottom-dwelled in a sea of English Breakfast tea and far-fetched dreams.....
The scared twelve year-old.... The one who obsessed over cancer and dying, and was afraid to fall asleep at night for fear of never waking up.
The ridiculous ten-year old, who was so determined to be respected and treated as someone twice her age.... and who's head was full of daydreams of Harry Potter and who anticipated greatly the arrival of shaved legs and make-up.
And the confused fifteen year old, I've said goodbye to her, too. She's the one who felt so stuck between childhood and adulthood- and who determined that the best way to walk through this world unharmed was to do it independantly, which was code for alone.
I've said goodbye to all of them.... Because I realized that I was holding on to them too tightly. I was holding on to that chipped black nail polish, that childlike innocence, that bitterness, and that fear with such an iron-clad grip, that I couldn't move forward. I was too scared to grow up, because growing up meant letting go, and letting go was something I was too afraid to do.
I didn't want to stop dancing around in my room to the Beach Boys. I didn't want to admit that I'd rather listen to John Mayer and Michael Buble than My Chemical Romance and Green Day. I didn't want to let go of the dreams involving London and music. I didn't want to change, because I didn't know who I would change into.
But if there's something that I've learned during the last week, and, really, the past six months, is this: change is the greatest gift God can give us. Because if things never changed, then following our tainted human nature, we would destroy everything, no matter how dear it was to us. If nothing changed we would be left to our own devices, and the world would diminish. Everything beautiful in life would be wiped out. Everything pure and lovely would be infected with smudges and grotesque handprints, torn apart and left in an unglamorous wreck, bleeding on the floor.
No matter how much we wish we could go back to the way things used to be, we can't. And even if we could, we wouldn't be satisfied because the knowledge that it has to change eventually would slowly drive us to the brink of unforgiving insanity.
I was holding on to all of these things in some ways, because I felt guilty for even considering letting them go. I was horrified that I felt called to give up these dreams, because it might mean letting people down.
I can't help it. It's sad to know that people who I always imagined next to me for the rest of my life will probably only remain in the outer shadows of my universe, but at the same time, it feels natural. Like I always knew this was coming, and now, the beginning of it has started. I don't know if it's the end of the beginning, or the beginning of the end.....I just know a change is taking place.
The other day, I was listening to a song by The Spice Girls, called "Goodbye". I couldn't figure out why it was standing out to me so clearly. Why it was pulling at my heart so strongly. So, I sat and I tried to figure out who was leaving me. The song was written for when Ginger Spice left the group to start her own solo career. I wanted to know who was leaving my world, who was I saying goodbye to?
.... I realized moments later that nobody was leaving me. Instead, I was Ginger Spice.
I'm the one who's saying goodbye to everyone. I'm the one who's leaving.
In this stage of my life, I'm finding out who I really am. What my real desires are, my real passions, my real dreams, my real character is being shaped and molded and defined.... and it's such a different character than I used to be, that it feels as though I'm saying goodbye to an old eternity, and starting a new, fresh life somewhere completely different.
I'm loosing relationships. I'm loosing feelings... I'm loosing memories. But it's okay. I'm gaining my world, and I'm finding out who's really going to be in my life forever. It's just change. That's all it is. If this wasn't happening, I'd tear it all to pieces anyways because I would get bored.
It's weird, watching situations in your life change. Suddenly, instead of being the one picking up the pieces and kissing the bruises, you're now the one watching behind the windowpane, waiting for the storm to pass. At first, it makes you feel a little empty inside, as though you're no longer needed. Then, you realize it's better this way. Your heart was beginning to grow jaded, anyways.
I'd like to end with a few quotes (and lyrics) that have really spoken to me the past few days, regarding this tender subject matter.
"Cold, cold heart- hard done by you. Some things look better, just passing through. And it's no sacrifice, just a simple word- its two hearts living in two seperate worlds. But it's no sacrifice, no sacrifice. It's no sacrifice, at all." -Sacrifice- Elton John
"What I was really hanging around for, I was trying to feel some kind of a good-by.... I don't care if it's a sad good-by or a bad good-by, but when I leave a place I like to know I'm leaving it. If you don't, you feel even worse." -J.D. Salinger, "Catcher in the Rye".
"I'm not sleeping at night, but I'm going from bar to bar. Why can't we just rewind? Why can't we just rewind? Why can't we just rewind?"- Rewind- Paolo Nutini
"Freedom? Oh, Freedom, well that's just some people talking. Your prison is walking through this world all alone." -Desperado- The Eagles
"Look for the rainbow in every storm, find out for certain love's gonna be there for you. You'll always be someone's baby."- Goodbye- The Spice Girls
"There are places I remember, all my life, though some have changed. Some forever, not for better, some have gone and some remain. "- In My Life- The Beatles
"I'm not calling for a second chance, I'm screaming at the top of my voice. Give me reason, but don't give me choice, 'cause I'll just make the same mistake again." -Same Mistake- James Blunt
There are a lot of songs, and a lot of words, and a lot of quotes uttered from the mouths of other poets and dreamers that can accurately portray the emotions behind my eyes.... But for some reason, I can't seem to get them out of my own mouth very well. Very rarely do I find myself speechless, or hardput for the right words to describe how I feel.
I've been doing a lot of reliving, the past couple of days. Reliving of the past, of days gone by, of beautiful moments buried within treasured memories......And I've learned that living in the past is a dangerous thing. Not only does it make you yearn for the happiest times that you can't recreate, no matter how hard you try- but it also makes you realize just how much you've changed since the days those memories were born in. And that is the most saddest part of all.
I repainted my room. It's the start of a new phase of life for me.... the last phase of life before I leave home. Each day passes like the hand of a clock, ticking away hour after hour, until the final countdown begins. I can already feel the goodbyes surfacing. I think they've been subtly settling their way into my life for a while now, I'm only just now realizing that I've been letting go all along. I've said goodbye to so many things this past week, I don't really know what to say to anything anymore, except for goodbye.
I've said goodbye to that spirited thirteen year-old, wearing fingerless gloves and sporting chipped, black nailpolish. The one with the dark eyeliner and the Green Day t-shirts.....
I've said goodbye to the infantile seven year-old. The one dancing in her room to The Beach Boys, pretending things only the beautiful mind of a child can imagine....
The angsty fourteen year-old, who only listened to bitter lovesongs and bottom-dwelled in a sea of English Breakfast tea and far-fetched dreams.....
The scared twelve year-old.... The one who obsessed over cancer and dying, and was afraid to fall asleep at night for fear of never waking up.
The ridiculous ten-year old, who was so determined to be respected and treated as someone twice her age.... and who's head was full of daydreams of Harry Potter and who anticipated greatly the arrival of shaved legs and make-up.
And the confused fifteen year old, I've said goodbye to her, too. She's the one who felt so stuck between childhood and adulthood- and who determined that the best way to walk through this world unharmed was to do it independantly, which was code for alone.
I've said goodbye to all of them.... Because I realized that I was holding on to them too tightly. I was holding on to that chipped black nail polish, that childlike innocence, that bitterness, and that fear with such an iron-clad grip, that I couldn't move forward. I was too scared to grow up, because growing up meant letting go, and letting go was something I was too afraid to do.
I didn't want to stop dancing around in my room to the Beach Boys. I didn't want to admit that I'd rather listen to John Mayer and Michael Buble than My Chemical Romance and Green Day. I didn't want to let go of the dreams involving London and music. I didn't want to change, because I didn't know who I would change into.
But if there's something that I've learned during the last week, and, really, the past six months, is this: change is the greatest gift God can give us. Because if things never changed, then following our tainted human nature, we would destroy everything, no matter how dear it was to us. If nothing changed we would be left to our own devices, and the world would diminish. Everything beautiful in life would be wiped out. Everything pure and lovely would be infected with smudges and grotesque handprints, torn apart and left in an unglamorous wreck, bleeding on the floor.
No matter how much we wish we could go back to the way things used to be, we can't. And even if we could, we wouldn't be satisfied because the knowledge that it has to change eventually would slowly drive us to the brink of unforgiving insanity.
I was holding on to all of these things in some ways, because I felt guilty for even considering letting them go. I was horrified that I felt called to give up these dreams, because it might mean letting people down.
I can't help it. It's sad to know that people who I always imagined next to me for the rest of my life will probably only remain in the outer shadows of my universe, but at the same time, it feels natural. Like I always knew this was coming, and now, the beginning of it has started. I don't know if it's the end of the beginning, or the beginning of the end.....I just know a change is taking place.
The other day, I was listening to a song by The Spice Girls, called "Goodbye". I couldn't figure out why it was standing out to me so clearly. Why it was pulling at my heart so strongly. So, I sat and I tried to figure out who was leaving me. The song was written for when Ginger Spice left the group to start her own solo career. I wanted to know who was leaving my world, who was I saying goodbye to?
.... I realized moments later that nobody was leaving me. Instead, I was Ginger Spice.
I'm the one who's saying goodbye to everyone. I'm the one who's leaving.
In this stage of my life, I'm finding out who I really am. What my real desires are, my real passions, my real dreams, my real character is being shaped and molded and defined.... and it's such a different character than I used to be, that it feels as though I'm saying goodbye to an old eternity, and starting a new, fresh life somewhere completely different.
I'm loosing relationships. I'm loosing feelings... I'm loosing memories. But it's okay. I'm gaining my world, and I'm finding out who's really going to be in my life forever. It's just change. That's all it is. If this wasn't happening, I'd tear it all to pieces anyways because I would get bored.
It's weird, watching situations in your life change. Suddenly, instead of being the one picking up the pieces and kissing the bruises, you're now the one watching behind the windowpane, waiting for the storm to pass. At first, it makes you feel a little empty inside, as though you're no longer needed. Then, you realize it's better this way. Your heart was beginning to grow jaded, anyways.
I'd like to end with a few quotes (and lyrics) that have really spoken to me the past few days, regarding this tender subject matter.
"Cold, cold heart- hard done by you. Some things look better, just passing through. And it's no sacrifice, just a simple word- its two hearts living in two seperate worlds. But it's no sacrifice, no sacrifice. It's no sacrifice, at all." -Sacrifice- Elton John
"What I was really hanging around for, I was trying to feel some kind of a good-by.... I don't care if it's a sad good-by or a bad good-by, but when I leave a place I like to know I'm leaving it. If you don't, you feel even worse." -J.D. Salinger, "Catcher in the Rye".
"I'm not sleeping at night, but I'm going from bar to bar. Why can't we just rewind? Why can't we just rewind? Why can't we just rewind?"- Rewind- Paolo Nutini
"Freedom? Oh, Freedom, well that's just some people talking. Your prison is walking through this world all alone." -Desperado- The Eagles
"Look for the rainbow in every storm, find out for certain love's gonna be there for you. You'll always be someone's baby."- Goodbye- The Spice Girls
"There are places I remember, all my life, though some have changed. Some forever, not for better, some have gone and some remain. "- In My Life- The Beatles
"I'm not calling for a second chance, I'm screaming at the top of my voice. Give me reason, but don't give me choice, 'cause I'll just make the same mistake again." -Same Mistake- James Blunt
Sunday, July 11, 2010
For Hallie
There's this recipe that has been tossed around the women in my family for a long time, it's from the Marlboro Country Cookbook. Yes, Marlboro as in Marlboro smokes. Yes, they have their own cookbook, and yes, it is phenomenal. There's actually two, that I know of.....
Anyways.
Tonight's baked special is showcased in one of these lovely cookbooks, Towns, Trails and Special Times. I know. I didn't name the book, but I pity the person who did.
I made Breakfast Bars for the first time in probably two years... Two years is far, far too long for these special treats. Essentially, they're a delicious breakfast supplement with dried cranberries, walnuts, oatmeal, chocolate chips, molasses and brown sugar and a few other baking essentials. Fresh out of the oven, reheated, refridgerated, or even frozen, these are absolutely to die for. And they've been around in my family ever since I can remember.
As I was stirring everything together, adding ingredients here, blowing my hair out of my face there, my mind was traveling elsewhere. My fingers knew the territory well, though, so I could afford to loose focus for a while. I took a long trip down memory lane, and dappled in some of my favorite memories that involve my sister, Hallie. She and I are the strongest advocates for Breakfast Bars in our family.... and it's not unusual that when together, we tip the ingredients into a bowl and laugh our way through an entire batch in a few days.
I remembered when she and her husband Arthur first moved to Seattle, and the first time I got to visit them by myself. I must have been ten or eleven. She would make me coffee in her espresso maker, and we'd stay in our pajamas until eleven o'clock watching Soap Operas. I was there for a week, and when I came back I was addicted to caffeine and All My Children and my mother didn't know what to think. I remembered the time she took me to the Seattle Library, and we spent hours traversing all eleven floors and getting severely lost in a long, red hallway with an unusual amount of doors, and no people. We took a harbor tour one time, and I remember how she braided my hair for me, and let me wear her purple visor that I loved. A few years later, she gave me a picture that Arthur took that day of the two of us in a frame... I still have it in my room. Then, they moved to Issaquah, Washington, and I remember one night, when Arthur was on duty, she and I made breakfast bars, and sat up late drinking milk and eating them out of the pan. I remember playing cards with her at the kitchen table in the Issaquah apartment. She leaned all the way over the table to look at my cards, thinking I wouldn't notice. I still haven't let her live that one down... One time, at that apartment, we decided to make my dad a birthday cake, and I don't remember exactly what I did, but I almost ruined the cake completely. We ended up laughing hysterically and the cake was fine. And then there was the 17 week period that she moved back home, while Arthur attended Officer Candidate School in Connecticut. She tried to get me on a gym membership with her so we could do yoga and pilates classes together, but I was too young. One time, she came and crashed on my bed and we toyed with the idea of going to an Aerosmith, Lenny Kravitz concert... I wish we had gone. Then, they moved to Florida... and after, Florida, Texas... and after Texas, back to Florida, where they are now. I remembered going to visit her for two weeks when she was pregnant, while Arthur was gone on a mission to Puerto Rico and somebody had to ensure she didn't go crazy from pregnancy brain and kill the dog. (whether by forgetting to feed him, or intentionally murdering him, nobody ever specified. ;P )
I don't think the two of us have ever laughed as much as we did during those two weeks. We took so many midnight trips to Taco Bell, (so many that we almost named my neice Tostada in commemoration of how many Tostadas Hallie consumed during those nine months), and watched so many reruns of The Real Housewives of Orange County that those entire two weeks are a blur of sleep, tacos, and fake tans. The two of us spent that 4th of July watching all Charlie's Angels movies and eating fajitas. (This time, they were homemade).
I remember when my parents first told me she was pregnant. I had just gotten off a plane from Athens, Greece.
I remember the feeling of sadness I got when I realized that there would no longer be any moments only involving the two of us. I felt even sadder when I realized that our duo was soon to become a trio, and how I felt a little bit misplaced and scared, and how all those feelings melted away as soon as I held my neice for the very first time.
I remember when she spinal fractured her arm, and I felt so helpless because I was 700 miles away and couldn't do anything. I remember dancing on the kitchen floor, in every kitchen we've ever lived in, and crying while watching Father of the Bride because George Banks is the mirror reflection of our dad. I remember the time that I had to have my appendix taken out, and right before I was taken into the OR, she held my hand and made me laugh, even though I was crying, because she started talking about Finding Nemo. I remember emailing her when I first thought our mom had cancer... She had been having so many doctor appointments lately, and my parents both seemed secretive. Hallie felt miserable that she was so far away that day. I remember her wedding day. I wish I had been older, so that I would have made it a point to remember more, to cherish more about that special, special day. I was too busy running around with my little friends. I wish I had given a toast. There's so many things I wish I could have said... But I just wasn't old enough to have experienced them, yet.
I remember when her and Arthur first moved across country, they had to drive, and they stopped in Montana to visit our cousins.
I remember talking to her on the phone, and a shooting pain of jealousy stab my heart because she was distracted and there was so much laughter in the background, and I was home alone. I wasn't really alone, my parents have always been there, but I felt alone.
I remember when I was little, and even when I grew up, she always made it a point to uphold traditions with me. Painting Easter eggs, carving Halloween pumpkins, making Christmas Gingerbread cookies. If we're ever together, we still do those things even now.....
As I remembered all of these things, and teared up countless times, I realized that there is no bigger impact on a young girl's life than the influence of an older sister. Mothers grow you, Aunts inspire you, friends encourage you, but sisters form you, mold you. They shape your future and your past in ways much different than friends and mothers, and it's harder than all hell when they live 3,000 miles away from you.
So, in all reality, this post is just for my sister. Making Breakfast Bars always reminds me of you, Hallie, and all the amazing memories we have, and will continue to have until we grow old and fragile and contemptuous. I will be the mean, persnickety old lady who probably goes insane, and you will be the sweet grandmother who always has cookies and candies for her multitudes of grandchildren in a special jar on the shelf. But we will still be laughing, and crying, and dancing together. Although, the dancing could cause some serious hip injuries.
I love you, sister. Thank you for taking so much responsibility in making my childhood incredible, and much cherished.
I wish I could have said this all at your wedding, or on your 30th birthday which I missed, but there just wasn't enough room on the card. ;)
Anyways.
Tonight's baked special is showcased in one of these lovely cookbooks, Towns, Trails and Special Times. I know. I didn't name the book, but I pity the person who did.
I made Breakfast Bars for the first time in probably two years... Two years is far, far too long for these special treats. Essentially, they're a delicious breakfast supplement with dried cranberries, walnuts, oatmeal, chocolate chips, molasses and brown sugar and a few other baking essentials. Fresh out of the oven, reheated, refridgerated, or even frozen, these are absolutely to die for. And they've been around in my family ever since I can remember.
As I was stirring everything together, adding ingredients here, blowing my hair out of my face there, my mind was traveling elsewhere. My fingers knew the territory well, though, so I could afford to loose focus for a while. I took a long trip down memory lane, and dappled in some of my favorite memories that involve my sister, Hallie. She and I are the strongest advocates for Breakfast Bars in our family.... and it's not unusual that when together, we tip the ingredients into a bowl and laugh our way through an entire batch in a few days.
I remembered when she and her husband Arthur first moved to Seattle, and the first time I got to visit them by myself. I must have been ten or eleven. She would make me coffee in her espresso maker, and we'd stay in our pajamas until eleven o'clock watching Soap Operas. I was there for a week, and when I came back I was addicted to caffeine and All My Children and my mother didn't know what to think. I remembered the time she took me to the Seattle Library, and we spent hours traversing all eleven floors and getting severely lost in a long, red hallway with an unusual amount of doors, and no people. We took a harbor tour one time, and I remember how she braided my hair for me, and let me wear her purple visor that I loved. A few years later, she gave me a picture that Arthur took that day of the two of us in a frame... I still have it in my room. Then, they moved to Issaquah, Washington, and I remember one night, when Arthur was on duty, she and I made breakfast bars, and sat up late drinking milk and eating them out of the pan. I remember playing cards with her at the kitchen table in the Issaquah apartment. She leaned all the way over the table to look at my cards, thinking I wouldn't notice. I still haven't let her live that one down... One time, at that apartment, we decided to make my dad a birthday cake, and I don't remember exactly what I did, but I almost ruined the cake completely. We ended up laughing hysterically and the cake was fine. And then there was the 17 week period that she moved back home, while Arthur attended Officer Candidate School in Connecticut. She tried to get me on a gym membership with her so we could do yoga and pilates classes together, but I was too young. One time, she came and crashed on my bed and we toyed with the idea of going to an Aerosmith, Lenny Kravitz concert... I wish we had gone. Then, they moved to Florida... and after, Florida, Texas... and after Texas, back to Florida, where they are now. I remembered going to visit her for two weeks when she was pregnant, while Arthur was gone on a mission to Puerto Rico and somebody had to ensure she didn't go crazy from pregnancy brain and kill the dog. (whether by forgetting to feed him, or intentionally murdering him, nobody ever specified. ;P )
I don't think the two of us have ever laughed as much as we did during those two weeks. We took so many midnight trips to Taco Bell, (so many that we almost named my neice Tostada in commemoration of how many Tostadas Hallie consumed during those nine months), and watched so many reruns of The Real Housewives of Orange County that those entire two weeks are a blur of sleep, tacos, and fake tans. The two of us spent that 4th of July watching all Charlie's Angels movies and eating fajitas. (This time, they were homemade).
I remember when my parents first told me she was pregnant. I had just gotten off a plane from Athens, Greece.
I remember the feeling of sadness I got when I realized that there would no longer be any moments only involving the two of us. I felt even sadder when I realized that our duo was soon to become a trio, and how I felt a little bit misplaced and scared, and how all those feelings melted away as soon as I held my neice for the very first time.
I remember when she spinal fractured her arm, and I felt so helpless because I was 700 miles away and couldn't do anything. I remember dancing on the kitchen floor, in every kitchen we've ever lived in, and crying while watching Father of the Bride because George Banks is the mirror reflection of our dad. I remember the time that I had to have my appendix taken out, and right before I was taken into the OR, she held my hand and made me laugh, even though I was crying, because she started talking about Finding Nemo. I remember emailing her when I first thought our mom had cancer... She had been having so many doctor appointments lately, and my parents both seemed secretive. Hallie felt miserable that she was so far away that day. I remember her wedding day. I wish I had been older, so that I would have made it a point to remember more, to cherish more about that special, special day. I was too busy running around with my little friends. I wish I had given a toast. There's so many things I wish I could have said... But I just wasn't old enough to have experienced them, yet.
I remember when her and Arthur first moved across country, they had to drive, and they stopped in Montana to visit our cousins.
I remember talking to her on the phone, and a shooting pain of jealousy stab my heart because she was distracted and there was so much laughter in the background, and I was home alone. I wasn't really alone, my parents have always been there, but I felt alone.
I remember when I was little, and even when I grew up, she always made it a point to uphold traditions with me. Painting Easter eggs, carving Halloween pumpkins, making Christmas Gingerbread cookies. If we're ever together, we still do those things even now.....
As I remembered all of these things, and teared up countless times, I realized that there is no bigger impact on a young girl's life than the influence of an older sister. Mothers grow you, Aunts inspire you, friends encourage you, but sisters form you, mold you. They shape your future and your past in ways much different than friends and mothers, and it's harder than all hell when they live 3,000 miles away from you.
So, in all reality, this post is just for my sister. Making Breakfast Bars always reminds me of you, Hallie, and all the amazing memories we have, and will continue to have until we grow old and fragile and contemptuous. I will be the mean, persnickety old lady who probably goes insane, and you will be the sweet grandmother who always has cookies and candies for her multitudes of grandchildren in a special jar on the shelf. But we will still be laughing, and crying, and dancing together. Although, the dancing could cause some serious hip injuries.
I love you, sister. Thank you for taking so much responsibility in making my childhood incredible, and much cherished.
I wish I could have said this all at your wedding, or on your 30th birthday which I missed, but there just wasn't enough room on the card. ;)
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
La Vie en Rose
Give your heart and soul to me, and life will always be la vie en rose.
I think this is one of my most favorite timepiece songs.
I love it in English, I love it in French, I love it when Audrey Hepburn sings it in Sabrina and I love the romantic "viewing life through rose colored glasses" metaphor.
It's the song I want to dance to at my wedding.... Or, I guess I should say, "A" song I want to dance to at my wedding. There's quite a few I'd like to dance to. :)
I've been thinking a lot lately about Heaven, I'm not really sure why.
My mom used to say that Heaven is made up of the things that you love the most, and that everybody's Heaven is different. That's why it's Heaven. Everyone there gets to do what they love and be with who they love for the rest of eternity.
She used to say that my grandma is up in Heaven, arranging flowers and baking bread, and not just any old flowers, or any old bread, but ethereal flowers, more beautiful than anything on this earth, and heavenly bread, the kind that Angels eat. I think she is too, but I also think she's down here, with the rest of my family, watching over us. I think she's one of those people lucky enough to become a guardian Angel. I feel her around me a lot. It's comforting.
Sometimes I wonder what my Heaven will be like.
I think it will smell like coconut lotion (Bath and Body Works brand only, of course) and it's somewhere where I'll have an ongoing inspiration of things to write about for all of eternity.... Maybe I'll get to help name new babies, or something. I like naming things. :) And there will be a universally-sized library... And I will have all the endless expanse of time to read every single book.
.......I can't wait to die. ;)
The funny thing, though, is that I am dying. Every day, I'm dying a little bit more.
It's kind of a morbid thought at first, but I don't know, I kind of like it. I'm not really afraid to die. I'm terrified of getting old, and having my intestines fall out of my butt, but I'm not afraid to die. Call me crazy. Everybody else does.
By the way, the intestinal thing? Yeah. I have a friend who is a CNA, and she works with the elderly. She tells me the scariest stories! It's no wonder I'm terrified of growing old. I never want to let that happen to me.
This is taking an unfortunate turn. Let's move on.
I've recently decided that I am going to need a farmhouse someday for several reasons.
1. I want a barn, in which to throw wonderful barn parties and that smells like hay and cows.
2. I would like my own garden, so I can grow my own corn and radishes.
3. I am going to collect pets when I'm older, and I need a place to put them all.
4. I want to be that quintessential hippie woman who tramps around her yard in a messy braid and wellingtons with a half-broken down house and a small pygmy goat which follows her around everywhere.
My pet list so far includes a yellow lab and a golden retreiver, one bearded dragon, two or three goats, a guinea hog, and maybe some Dexter cows, because they're adorable and small. Maybe two bearded dragons.... and possibly a hydrosaurus. But... they're sort of large and scare people away easily.
I like animals.
I've even discovered over the past week that I like insects. This summer, I'm working at the insect house in the Oregon Zoo. I really enjoy it, too! So far, I can only handle the Madagascar Hissing Cockroaches.... But I'm working on getting my training to handle some other bugs, too.
See? They're really pretty cute.
This one is male, because of the horns on his head.
They're very clean, too. This species is not considered a household pest.
Aaaaanyways.
OH. I would also like an epic aquarium with marine life. Like seastars, and sea anenomes, and urchins and a sea cucumber... and fish, of course.
My computer is going to die very soon, so I'm going to turn in. I can barely keep my eyes open as I'm writing this. I'm really excited to sleep in tomorrow! Haven't had the pleasure of sleeping well in a few nights.
I hope my insomnia doesn't come back.
Goodnight, readers.
See you all in dreamland!
Xx
Xx
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