Grand Canyon
Dead animal love
23 December 2011
07 December 2011
Journey of a Spitball
So it's that season again. I know... I know... you think I mean Christmas season. Well it's that, too, but what I'm talking about today, is the season where warm turns to cold, and all the little virus bugs are happy and nestling snug in our lungs. The season of sickness may well determine the timing of your or my experience with these bugs, but somehow, everywhere, there are evidences of residences in the strangers around us. What are these evidences, you don't ask? Well, I'll tell you. All around, like little snowflakes on the ground - since the snow would never dare come to the land of the sauna, we must think on what nature has provided as a substitute - we can find freshly hocked loogies, ready to redirect even the most resolute of pedestrians.
This little story is about a particular spitball close to home: mine. Now I know you don't want to hear this, but if you'll keep reading, I'll tell you anyway. I was walking ever so innocently on the walkway to my office, hand clutching the token Coke Zero as the afternoon sleepies require, and all of a sudden, from somewhere inside me, I feel the betrayal of nature. Despite my attempt at maintaining decorum, by finding a nice bathroom to do the deed, I'm unable to contain that particular spitball, and the frantic search for a slightly acceptable resting place commenced. Oddly enough, the trash can is frowned upon, since many of the local population prefers to line their pockets with the proceeds of slightly recyclable discarded items in these cans, so posted signs and fines intending to protect this form of commercialism discourage option number one. I continue, unfulfilled, until I see the beautiful large foliage ahead. I know from my studies, that the bacteria from human spit aids in plant germination, so I started to quicken my step, almost excited to find such a perfect, harmonious solution. After waiting for the passersby to pass by, I grab the railing, and, rather than hurling myself over - which another posted sign informs us is not a good choice - I release my prisoner. I watch proudly, as I know in my heart, I've done the right thing.
As I watch my life-giving gift's journey on it's way down from the 3rd floor of my office's outdoor walkway, something horrible happens. Nature has betrayed itself! Why dost thou protest this offering?! A small, ever-so-innocent gust of wind has come to carry my little spitball but 6 inches away from the intended and warmly welcoming plant, and I watch in horror as my little spitball lands ironically on the ground below, thus sealing my fate with karma. I have become one of those hocking strangers. A horrible guilty feeling comes over me, and I know, for the benefit of society, I must share my story. Why, you ask incredulously? Because I think some of you, secretly, wanted to know.
This little story is about a particular spitball close to home: mine. Now I know you don't want to hear this, but if you'll keep reading, I'll tell you anyway. I was walking ever so innocently on the walkway to my office, hand clutching the token Coke Zero as the afternoon sleepies require, and all of a sudden, from somewhere inside me, I feel the betrayal of nature. Despite my attempt at maintaining decorum, by finding a nice bathroom to do the deed, I'm unable to contain that particular spitball, and the frantic search for a slightly acceptable resting place commenced. Oddly enough, the trash can is frowned upon, since many of the local population prefers to line their pockets with the proceeds of slightly recyclable discarded items in these cans, so posted signs and fines intending to protect this form of commercialism discourage option number one. I continue, unfulfilled, until I see the beautiful large foliage ahead. I know from my studies, that the bacteria from human spit aids in plant germination, so I started to quicken my step, almost excited to find such a perfect, harmonious solution. After waiting for the passersby to pass by, I grab the railing, and, rather than hurling myself over - which another posted sign informs us is not a good choice - I release my prisoner. I watch proudly, as I know in my heart, I've done the right thing.
As I watch my life-giving gift's journey on it's way down from the 3rd floor of my office's outdoor walkway, something horrible happens. Nature has betrayed itself! Why dost thou protest this offering?! A small, ever-so-innocent gust of wind has come to carry my little spitball but 6 inches away from the intended and warmly welcoming plant, and I watch in horror as my little spitball lands ironically on the ground below, thus sealing my fate with karma. I have become one of those hocking strangers. A horrible guilty feeling comes over me, and I know, for the benefit of society, I must share my story. Why, you ask incredulously? Because I think some of you, secretly, wanted to know.
30 November 2011
Happy Belated Thanksgiving
I’ve collected all of the Grateful List items, and sadly I didn’t make it all the way to Thanksgiving Day, since, as you might notice, I was sick... but here’s the bit that made it:
1 - Grateful for a husband to take care of me when I'm sick
2 - Grateful for a stable job
3 - Thankful that my children are generally happy
4 - Thankful that we can order a turkey instead of carrying it for an hour to get it home from Shekou.
5 - Thankful to be born.
6: So grateful for ovaltine that makes me not feel guilty (I later read about how much sugar is in this stuff, and no longer feel grateful for any lack of guilt that my naivety may have allowed)
7: Grateful for my sweet birds that are like babies
8: Grateful for a friend who visited from America
9: Grateful that friend brought us things we can't get here
10: Grateful for the Book of Mormon
11: Grateful for the funny "single's day"
12: Grateful for warm leggings
13: Grateful for loving my job
14 - Grateful for really warm water that soothes my sore throat.
15 - Grateful for Primary songs that remind my kids to be good
16 - Grateful for kids that remind me to be good
1 - Grateful for a husband to take care of me when I'm sick
2 - Grateful for a stable job
3 - Thankful that my children are generally happy
4 - Thankful that we can order a turkey instead of carrying it for an hour to get it home from Shekou.
5 - Thankful to be born.
6: So grateful for ovaltine that makes me not feel guilty (I later read about how much sugar is in this stuff, and no longer feel grateful for any lack of guilt that my naivety may have allowed)
7: Grateful for my sweet birds that are like babies
8: Grateful for a friend who visited from America
9: Grateful that friend brought us things we can't get here
10: Grateful for the Book of Mormon
11: Grateful for the funny "single's day"
12: Grateful for warm leggings
13: Grateful for loving my job
14 - Grateful for really warm water that soothes my sore throat.
15 - Grateful for Primary songs that remind my kids to be good
16 - Grateful for kids that remind me to be good
22 November 2011
18 November 2011
Grateful
I’m grateful that my children both have an appreciation for the teachings of the gospel of Jesus Christ. Jared was always very accepting of God and his love for us, but Ella… she struggled. I wondered if she would ever care about God. She said she didn’t want to pray, and that she didn’t like learning about Jesus. Lately, though, she has come to love the Primary Songs that teach of Jesus and how to live righteously, and the songs that she loves have found a way into her heart. I’m so grateful that I can share my happiness in the gospel with my family.
06 November 2011
Random Thought
I was working on tagging pics, and I realized that some of the best pictures of me are taken by none other than my children. Upon pondering this thought, I suppose the happiest time I have as an adult is watching my children enjoy themselves. Many other people have probably already figured this out, but for me, it was emphasized by this lovely picture taken by my progeny. I’m so picky about what pictures I’ll let my family keep of myself, not because I don’t think there are horrible pictures of myself out there in the world, but that if I don’t see them, I can pretend they don’t exist, and I’m always the smiling reflection of who I want to be. I’m glad that sometimes my kids see me as I want them to.
31 October 2011
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