Random Bits of Sara

"How Many Babies Will You Have?"

2011-11-09T16:31:00.000-08:00

So the big update is that Michigan is more of a funny ha ha entertaining adventure than anything. The best part would be the funny comments my niece or nephews make to me. For example, yesterday, out of nowhere, my four-year-old niece asked me, "Aunt Sara, when you get married, how many babies will you have?"

I was speechless for about two seconds. Then the conversation proceeded as follows:

"I don't know. I guess we will have to see."

"You can only have one baby."

"One? But I would like my babies to have brothers and sisters."

"No, only one. Well, you could have two. Two babies inside your tummy and then the two babies would make twins."

So funny when I figured out that she meant how many babies am I going to have inside my tummy when I get pregers. Such a weird thought... But I think it comes from the fact that her mom is expecting a baby in February. So the whole pregnancy thing and women having babies is definitely on her mind.

Across Country

2011-09-13T08:54:00.000-07:00

Well, sort of across the country. I traveled through about seven states: Utah, Wyoming, Nebraska, Iowa, Illiniois, Indiana, and Michigan.

I set out one morning in my beautiful Subaru Impreza.

I drove and drove and drove some more until I got to the great state of Wyoming. This was the place I was looking forward to the least. There just isn't much there. However, every once in a while I would see an awesome-looking rock. . . . And then I would pass it.

In the photo below, you can see wind mills on the hill off in the distance. I did enjoy that part.

I then drove and drove and drove some more until I got to Nebraska. There isn't a lot in Nebraska either. But at least the speed limit was 75 most of the way.

After a good rest in North Platte, Nebraska, in a funny smelling hotel, I drove and drove and drove some more until I got to Iowa. This place had some interesting crevices in the land. Can't really see it in the photo below, tough.

I kept driving and drove and drove and drove some more, occasionally stopping for gas or to use the restroom, until I made it to Illinois. Did you know that when you first get to Illinois, you don't see much. It is mostly farm country. I didn't see much city until my last day of driving, after spending the night in a more up-scale hotel that still smelled funny. I think it's because of the smoking. I hate the lingering smell of tobacco.

And then I drove and drove and drove some more until I passed Indiana in the blink of an eye and drove into Michigan. This picture is a little blurry, probably because it was raining.

So, that is where I am. And that is the great adventure I went on this last week. I made it safely to Michigan and to a warm bed that did not smell funny.

Although, I should point out that I did stay in non-smoking rooms, but the lobby sure did smell yucky.

So, now I am enjoying the fresh, humid Michigan air and waiting for some work from the company I have contracted with. La la la la la. (Twiddle thumbs.)

I'm Back, Like a TV Show after a Long Summer

2011-04-12T20:34:00.000-07:00

So, Jujube, a long, long time ago, taught me the importance of letters. So... here is another post filled with important letters. Enjoy!

Dear blog,
I am terribly sorry I have neglected you. But you will be pleased to know that now that my grandpa's book is finished (and I mean completely finished) I have more time to devote to you and my new blog: http://bananawrites.wordpress.com. I might even write my book. I am liking this idea more and more.So, in short, I will be seeing your much more frequently... I hope.
Love,
The Random Sara

Dear Salt Lake,
Why do you hate me so. Commuting to you is killing my sleep schedule. And what happened to meeting cute guys on the bus? How come everyone is married? How come I always fall asleep while riding the bus and wouldn't notice a cute guy if he were even sitting next to me?
I'm thinking a change is in order. We shall see.
From,
The tired girl who is always running to trax

Dear house,
I love you. Even if you don't have a fireplace. You are getting more beautiful all the time. Do you like the new coffee table I got you. Pretty, huh? The only problem would be the people jumping around upstairs. Are they training for the Olympics?
From,
A very satisfied occupant

Dear body,
I know, I need to take better care of you. You scream for exercise. Well, I have a treat for you.The clubhouse has a treadmill. Yay!
Love,
The person inside your head

The Dragonfly Died

2010-09-08T16:51:00.001-07:00

Sad day.

Poor Dragonfly

2010-09-02T17:55:00.000-07:00

Poor Dragonfly. Please don't die.

Today, as I ate my lunch out on the comfortable launchair that was no longer in the sun because the days are getting shorter (not looking forward to winter), I heard this little flutter. At first I thought nothing of it. But then I looked over and saw that you had fallen on your back.

I admit that at first I was a little afraid to do anything. You are a big bug, after all.

But you kept struggling, trying so hard to get off the ground. You fluttered your wings and moved your legs like crazy. So, finally, I got up, found a long stick that had blown off one of the trees, and let you latch onto the stick.

Thank you, dragonfly, for not attacking me when picked you up on my stick . . . or when I set the stick back down, upright so you would not land on your back again.

I only worry about you now because you didn't move from that stick. You just stayed there, perched on the end of the stick. What were you thinking? Were you scared too? Were you worried I would smash you?

No worries, little dragonfly. No one wants to step on your large insect body. Gross.

Salt Lake Adventures

2010-08-27T17:18:00.000-07:00

It's funny how my world has changed since I started working in Salt Lake. I have seen a few things and talked to some interesting people.

One Friday, as I was waiting for the TRAX, a guy came over and sat close to me. He said, "Hi." I said, "Hi," back. Funny how such a simple word can lead to so much more.
He then decided I was a good person to talk to and proceeded to tell me how he is now "legal" to go to Windover and start his great weekend. He told me about how he knows cops, and kept saying "legal"--whatever that means.
Then he started talking about how he doesn't get into fights. He walks away. And he has a girlfriend who's waiting for him in Windover. And he takes care of his mom, who is old. And he has a black belt in Karate.
Hmmm.
I got on the train and a guy who was listening to the whole conversation said, "I saw that guy in Windover last week. He got mad at a guy and popped him over the head with a bear bottle." He's not supposed to go back.
And I care why?
Earlier this week, I was waiting for my train, again. As I was sitting there, a man (a different man) cam over and sat next to me. "My foot hurts," he says. I said something like, "Oh, that's too bad."
I guess that was my permission to let him proceed to tell me about his big blister on the bottom of his foot. Next thing I know he is telling me all about his gangreen.
Ewww.
Today, as I was riding the bus, I saw something interesting. I was close to my bus stop, but a stop before mine were a bunch of cop cars and an ambulance. As we got closer, I finally saw the scene. There was a man on the top of a bus, with his shirt off, and his hands up in the air. The ambulance was standing by in case something happened, and the cops were all gathered around the bus, waiting to see what this crazy guy was going to do.
I want to know how the guy got on top of the bus, and what he was trying to do. Was he trying to get a better view of his ride... ride the bus without being notices... make a statement?
This last one is a story I hear... kind of scary. A little before I left work, a man was shot at the Grand America Hotel. Apparently, he was in military garb and telling everyone he was in training. But he was carrying around a loaded gun.
Someone called the police, and when the cops arrived, the man shot an officer. So, the cops shot back and ended up killing the guy.
They don't yet know what the guy was doing or who he is.
This was only three blocks away from where I work.

Anyway, those are my Salt Lake Adventures.

My Weekly Schedule

2010-08-12T16:41:00.000-07:00

Monday

5:30 - woke up and got ready for work
6:30 - boarded the bus
6:30 - 7:30 - slept on the bus
7:30 - got off the bus, boarded the train, got off the train, and walked to work
8:00 - Work
12:00 - lunch break. Breifly. I think it was more like half and hour.
12:30 - back to work
5:00 - rushed out the door to catch the train to my bus stop
5:25 - boarded bus
7:00 - got home and died for the rest of the night. I seriously could not move. I was so tired. At some point I did make Visiting Teaching calls. But that took a ton of energy.
9:00 - took shower
9:30-10:00 - went t bed

Tuesday

5:30 - woke up and got ready for work
6:30 - boarded the bus
6:30 - 7:30 - slept on the bus
7:30 - got off the bus, boarded the train, got off the train, and walked to work
8:00 - Work
12:00 - lunch break. Could have been a little later than this. Don't really remember. I had lunch at some point though. I think it was good. Hmm.
12:30 - back to work
5:00 - rushed out the door to catch the train to my bus stop
5:25 - boarded bus
7:00 - got home, tried to help the sis fix dinner, printed out meeting agendas and training for night's meeting, tried to make some grilled-cheese sandwiches. I think my sister took over cause I was too busy running around the house trying to gather everything together and print out a map to a place in Elk Ridge.
7:30 - rushed out the door and got lost on my way to Elk Ridge.
7:45 - finally arrived at my destination and began my Visiting Teaching
8:00 - rushed out of this sisters house because my councilors were looking for me and asking questions. Had to stop home to grab everything for the meeting.
8:30 - finally started RS Pres. meeting. Whew.
10:00 - meeting ended and I went home
10:15 - finally got a something a little more substantial to eat. I was hungry
11:30 - finally made it to bed.

Wednesday

6:00 - woke up and got ready for work. I was so tired and really didn't want to get up at 5:30
7:00 - drove to work
8:00 - Work
12:00 - Yummy lunch at a place called Bay Leaf Cafe. I had the Jamaican Jerk. Yum. We went out to eat as a department cause one of my co-worker was leaving. Sad.
1:00 - back to work
5:20 - Listened as someone told me I needed to go home cause I looked tired. I felt okay
5:25 - left work and drove home
6:45 - got home and cooked some pizza. Talked to my sis too. That was nice. But also had to get some things together for another meeting
7:30 - Rushed out the door cause I was half an hour late to Institute
7:40 - Arrived late at Institute
8:30 - Had a Popsicle. I know... you're jealous
8:35 - Had a meeting with my RS Visiting Teaching Coordinator
9:45 - Went home and ate and apple.
10:30 - Took a shower
11:00 - went to bed

Today

5:30 - woke up and got ready for work
6:30 - boarded the bus
6:30 - 7:30 - slept on the bus
7:30 - got off the bus, boarded the train, got off the train, and walked to work
8:00 - Work
12:20 - walked to Subway and bought lunch for me and my boss.
12:30 - ate while working
5:00 - rushed out the door to catch the train to my bus stop
5:25 - boarded bus (on bus now)
7:30 - have RS interview with sister
8:00 - Going to visit sister

Hmm. I wonder why my bishop said I was too busy. What time to you think I'll get to bed tonight?

Much Needed Update

2010-07-29T16:45:00.000-07:00

Yes, I've been neglecting my sweet, sweet blog. Sorry. :(

But I'm back. . . . for a bit anyway.

So, the updates.

New Job: Yes, I finally did it. I got away from boogie job. Sadly I left poor Jujube to deal with the monster monkeys on her own. (Sorry, Jujube.)

So far I'm liking the job. Nice people. Good work. It's kind of crazy there right now but I feel like my work matters and it's appreciated. And that helps.

Bus: I ride the bus now. Not all the time. I still wait for the day when I can go a whole week without using my gas to get to Salt Lake. (Oh, did I not say that my job is in Salt Lake?) Yes, I commute from Payson to downtown Salt Lake. Crazy? Yes.

Sadly, my bus dreams are not coming true. My girlie, need-a-date desire was that a cute guy would befriend me on the bus and one thing would lead to another. And the next thing I would know is the two of us walking hand in hand on cloud nine. Oh well. I'll just have to find some other way to meet cute, cloud-nine guy.

New ward/new calling: I was keeping this one a secret from a lot of people in my last job because I didn't need monkeys jumping all over me, tying to force me to become a monkey. But I joined the new Payson singles ward. Shocking, I know. But I guess it was about time. The only thing is that upon joining this brand-new ward, I was made RS Pres. Scary. But it has been good. I can definitely see the blessings. But that would be he reason I have not moved to SLC yet to be closer to my job.

Broken shoe: Today, i wore my really, really cute yellow almost-gladiator sandals. And ten minutes before leaving work, my shoe broke. Not a good thing 'cause I still had to walk to the tracks a couple blocks away and catch my bus. Luckily I found someone with super glue. Sadly, I don't know how much longer these shoes will last. And I really like these shoes. Oh well. I guess it just means I have a great excuse to go shopping.

This strawberry still has not found a good mango: And I'm not really working on it. Plus, I don't really know how to. How do I find my Maddog with little time, long commutes to SLC, and a really young singles ward? Let me know if you have any suggestions.

For now that's about it. I wish I had something really funny or embarrassing to share like the time I spilled Dr. Pepper all over the floor of that restaurant.

Today I Watched

2010-05-13T21:01:00.001-07:00

Today I watched as this poor man crossing the street almost got hit by a Ringger car.

Today I watched as Jujube said "hi" in her own way of boxing the air in front of my face.

Today I watched the funniest canvas war as the seemingly missing canvas suddenly showed up on the hallway wall.

Today I watched as Jujube went to find someone to open Duck's office only to find that his office was wide open the entire time.

Today I watched as Jujube put her stuffed lion in a plastic bag and hung him on my cubicle wall. She did this to her own stuffed child...

Today I watched as my IM screen filled up with "Shut it! Shut it! Shut it!"--not talking to me but about the queen. I hope...

Today I watched as time went by, as the day wore on, as Jujube decided we were crazy because of multiple strikes against us (some being English majors, work, hometown, teachers, experiences, etc. that just happen to be the same).

Today, really, was just a great day to watch. (Should have had some popcorn.)

Messed Up Fairytales

2010-04-19T10:26:00.000-07:00

After a very interesting conversation this morning I realize that although I have been guilty of the fairytale day dream, I'm not so sure I want one to come true for me. Take the following into account:

Snow White
Being the fairest maiden of them all comes with its problems, namely blond disorder. After receiving the threat of being killed by her wicked step mother, she goes into a stranger's house and begins cleaning. And after only knowing Snow White for a very short time... is it just cause she's fair... are the dwarfs hoping for something more... they let her stay. Then, Snow White takes food from a stranger. Sure, we think we should be able to trust all little old women. But...really?

Not much later, the dwarfs encase Snow White's body in a glass tomb because she is so fair. And a prince, after seeing her only a few seconds, decides to kiss her corpse. Ew.(Thank you, Bill, for this new insight on Snow White.)

Next case: Cinderella
It's the shoe that really bothers me. The prince has only known Cinderella for a few short hours while dancing with her. He was so taken by her that he must search the whole kingdom to find her, but he only has a glass shoe to go by. So he tries it on all the maidens. Only one, ONE, person fit the shoe. Who's to say he really found the girl he danced with last night? I think he was more in love with the shoe than the woman.

Final case: Rapunzel
I must admit that Rapunzel is my favorite fairy tale and I wouldn't be surprised to find myself writing my own version. But, I wonder if Rapunzel loved the prince as much as she claims. After her prince's eyes were poked out, she stayed in a cottage, not looking for him. It was he who wandered all over and finally came upon her. When she does finally see him again, she sheds tears and, voila, he is healed.

The part that bothers me the most. He found her. He didn't stay in his room, living a comfortable life with servants to cater to his every need. He went after her... the entire story. And she did nothing. Just expected him to do everything. (I might reverse the roles for modern day.)

There you have it. Messed up fairytales. I think I'd prefer to keep my blond head out of it all, make sure my prince has other requirements other than feet, and find an equal relationship where both parties work together.

Child's Fire: Part 5 (final)

2010-03-25T19:42:00.000-07:00

Brita’s body tightens as if she is trying to hold something in. She doesn’t want to continue, but Mr. Strong looks mean and impatient, like he might hurt her.

The explosion. The fire. The lady was mad and I was cold. Suddenly, the room was only fire. My dancing friends were back. And they danced on everything. Everywhere. Fast. And it grew and grew real big. The fire was mad. The woman screamed. The men screamed. I heard many screams very fast. I was scared and I closed my eyes. And the fire danced and licked me sometimes but never hurt me. It wasn’t mad at me. It wanted to hurt the lady and the man.

I stayed under the table until it was gone. The table was gone and the building was gone. I was alone. I cried and cried until I dreamed. I dreamed of fire. I only dream of fire now. It doesn’t go away, and it is not my friend anymore. It wants to be, but I hate it. It’s a killer.

How did you get out of the building, or the rubble from the building?

Brita screams and Mr. Strong and Mr. Hanning look nervous. But Brita believes they are mad and want her to continue.

A man with a hose found me. He sprayed water all over me. He didn’t see me. He didn’t see that the fire was already gone. He sprayed everywhere and I shivered and started crying again. He picked me up and carried me to a truck with flashing lights. Told me he would take care of me. Told me I would see my daddy again.

Dr. Scott looks at the men behind him.

Is that as far as you wanted to go today?

Mr. Strong, who has been glancing at his watch every thirty seconds nods, with a look of relief. He and Mr. Hanning stand without a word. Brita watches as the two men leave the room. Just before the door closes, Brita calls out.

Mr. Hanning, please don’t leave me.

It’s okay, Brita. I just have to go talk to my secretary and then you can go. Can you wait right here until I come back?

Mr. Hanning closes the door. Dr. Scott puts his pen and notepad on the desk next to the dead flowers. He leans close to Brita and whispers.

Do you know who is behind the mirror, Brita?

No.

Bad people, Brita. They want to hurt your daddy and Riley. They are mean and they want to hurt you. They are watching you because they want to take you away where you will never see your daddy again.

Brita begins breathing faster, hiccupping faster.

Why?

They are bad, bad people.

Dr. Scott looks out the window and raises his voice.

It’s okay, Brita. I just have to go talk to my secretary and then you can go. Can you wait right here until I come back?

Brita tries to clamp her mouth shut but the hiccups prevent her. She is scared to be alone. She shakes her head at Dr. Scott.

It’s okay, Brita. I’ll be back.

Dr. Scott leaves the room. Brita looks at the mirror, then at the door. She runs to open the door, but it is locked. Her breathing is louder and quicker. Her hands become warm, and warmer, and warmer. She looks down and sees sparks dancing in her palms. She starts screaming.

Help me. Dr. Scott. Help me. Mr. Hanning. Mr. Strong. Heelllp meeee.

The sparks grow bigger and jump from her hands onto the carpet and chairs and walls. It consumes the dead flowers and quickly spreads throughout the room. Brita hears screaming from behind the mirror. The fire attacks the glass and explodes. Brita runs through the giant flames to the window; the oak desk is gone, eaten by the fire. She looks to the street below and sees Mr. Hanning, Mr. Strong and Dr. Scott watching from across the street.

Child's Fire: Part 4

2010-03-23T19:59:00.000-07:00

He is hurt real bad. The fire got real mean after it hurt my mommy ‘cause I didn’t want to play anymore. I cried and told the fire to go away, so it smooshed my brother. His face looks bad, red and puffy. Like a burnt marshmallow.

Tell me about when Mr. Hanning and Mr. Strong met you.

Brita looks at the men behind the doctor. Mr. Strong looks impatient but Mr. Hanning smiles.

I didn’t like them at first.

They came the day after my mommy’s funeral. Riley, my brother, was still sleeping. I was crying, but I don’t want to cry anymore. I try and try but sometimes the tears escape. How do you stop tears? My mommy would know. She would tell me. But I can’t stop them. I can’t stop fire and I can’t stop crying.

Brita’s eyes widen and she looks like she will scream, but she breathes hard to hold back.

I never want to cry. I never want to scream. I never want to laugh. I never want to cry.

Dr. Scott looks alarmed, he wants explanation from Mr. Hanning and Mr. Strong, but he continues.

Will you continue to tell me about when you left with Mr. Hanning and Mr. Strong?

Brita lowers her shoulders and relaxes. But her breathing remains heavy.

I was sitting by my brother’s bed, just watching. Just thinking about the fire. My daddy was in the hall, whispering about the fire and crying. Mr. Hanning and Mr. Strong came in and said they wanted to buy me an ice-cream. Daddy said I should go.

Mr. Hanning held my hand as we passed the other rooms on our way to the cafeteria. He pulled out a chair for me, like a prince. I like him. He treated me like a princess. Even bought me a crown at the airport. It was sparkly and pink.

Brita half smiles at Mr. Hanning, careful not to let the corners of her mouth crease too far. Then she looks at Mr. Strong and shrinks.

Mr. Strong asked many questions about my mommy and about the fire. I didn’t like his questions. He scared me. Then he said he wanted to take me somewhere. Somewhere I would be safe from the fire. I didn’t want to go, I told him. I wanted to stay with my daddy.

But, we flew on a plane. I have never been in a plane before. It was long but fun. I fell asleep and then Mr. Hanning poked me and told me we were there. He carried me off of the plane. He took me to a small room, not like a princess’s room. It was small and bright. White walls, lots of light. But I fell asleep. The blankets were soft. They reminded me of the dream I had about being covered in burnt marshmallows. Except the covers were not sticky and gooey. I told the dream to Johny once and he told me he would buy a hundred marshmallows, burn them, and throw them at me.

Do you remember what happened the next day when you woke up?

‘Course I do.

Will you tell me about it?

Mr. Hanning came in to get me. We walked through a long hall. I saw Vicky and Johny go into a room, but the door was shut when we walked past. Mr. Hanning said we had to eat breakfast and meet some people. He took me to a room with windows everywhere. And there was a table with pancakes and sausage and eggs and milk and orange juice and potato things… Mr. Hanning said I could eat as much as I wanted as long as I listened to the people behind the glass and answered their questions…

Brita’s eyes narrow.

Those people are bad, bad people.

What did they do?

They’re just bad. Bad, bad, bad, bad.

Brita, I need to you tell me what they did.

I don’t want to.

Mr. Strong grunts and Brita shrinks again.

Brita, do you want to see your daddy?

Yes.

Then tell me what the people behind the glass did.

Brita sticks out her lower lip and bows her head.

There were three. A man, another man, and the mean woman. The woman looked like my teacher Mrs. Remming. Her hair was tight and pulled on her cheeks.

She didn’t smile. She asked me if I like fire. I told her yes but it killed my mommy. She said she wanted to see me play. She left with the men and I waited for some dolls to play with. But she didn’t come back. I looked around the room but there were no toys.

So I sat down and ate a sausage. It tasted good but it was cold. I tried the pancakes and eggs and they were as cold as ice cream. I don’t think the lady with the bun can cook very good.

Then the room got really cold. I shivered and my teeth made noises. I started to yell. I hoped maybe Mr. Hanning would come get me. But my fingers felt like icicles and I couldn’t pick up more sausage. I started to cry. I hated the window room. I wanted my mommy. I wanted my daddy. I crawled under the table and made myself into a ball.

Brita holds back another sob with a hiccup.

Then I heard the woman’s voice, on the intercom. She asked me what was wrong. I said it was cold. She said it needed to be cold so she could see me play. I started to cry. She started yelling at me about fire. But I just cried.

Brita hiccups three times, loudly.

I didn’t mean it to happen. I know it was my fault.

What was your fault?

Child's Fire: Part 3

2010-03-09T19:35:00.000-08:00

Were you dreaming?

Yeah. It was a scary dream. Someone in a black robe was chasing me. I ran and ran. But he caught me. And I was so scared and I screamed. Then there was red everywhere.

And when you woke up?

Brita’s eyes are closed tight and her fists are clenched.

There was still red everywhere. All over my room, on my bed, on my window, at my door. But it didn’t hurt me. So I wasn’t scared and I started to dance. Like the nympie things I saw on a movie once. I danced and the fire danced. Then my mommy came in and she screamed. Her face looked like my jack-o-lantern. The scared one.

She called my dad who saw and got my brother. My mom couldn’t get through the fire. She tried and burned her arm. When she screamed I ran to her. But the fire told me she was okay. It was her fault.

Mommy kept yelling, “Brita, we gotta go. Brita, Brita, Brita.” She grabbed my arm real tight and dragged me away from the fire. But the fire didn’t want us to go. It followed us out my bedroom door, down the hall, into the kitchen—did a little dance on the countertop, I laughed—and out the house. Mommy ran and I tried to go back to the fire.

Your mother made it out, out of the house?

We all got out. Mommy, daddy, me, Riley, the dog.

Then, can you tell me how she died?

Tears are stream down Brita’s face. She squeezes her eyes tighter.

It was an accident. A bad, bad accident. I didn’t want to lose the fire. I told it to follow. It would be okay. If we could dance, everything would be okay. It skipped to me. My mom yanked me away and I screamed. “Let me go,” I told her.

Brita lets out a sob but hides it with a hiccup.

I remember that is what I said. “Let me go. I want to be with the fire.”

My mom had a strange look on her face and started to cry. She grabbed me real tight and hugged me; she squeezed and squeezed. I wriggled and wriggled. She wouldn’t let go. The fire got mad and attacked her. Came right over her head and grabbed her.

Brita hiccups again.

I tried to stop the fire. But it told me it couldn’t stop. Once it starts, it doesn’t stop.

Dr. Scott pauses. He notices Brita’s shoulders shaking. He hands her the handkerchief from his jacket pocket. She looks at it and scrunches her face, trying to stop the tears.

What is this?

It’s like a tissue.

Brita sticks out her lower lip.

I don’t want it.

Dr. Scott sets it on the table beside Brita’s bed-like chair.

You may lie down if it will make you feel better.

Brita looks at the cushion.

No. I just want to see my daddy.

Dr. Scott looks at the two men behind him again. Mr. Strong points to his watch.

Can you tell me what happened to your brother, Brita?

Sunday Night Laughter

2010-03-08T19:59:00.000-08:00

I must continue to interrupt this story for some other important business.

Actually, I was thinking about how much life has changed within the last few months. My family had quite the scare with my dad's brain surgery to remove his tumor last December. But he has pulled through really well, and continues to amaze everyone with his progress, especially after losing mobility in his left arm and leg.

But something even more amazing has happened. My dad now laughs more than ever.

He has always been a laugher. My brothers and sisters and I loved watching comedy movies with him because he would laugh 'til his eyes watered and a coughing fit ensued.

I think the tumor must have been located on the funny part of his brain because now he will laugh at little things, such as my mom saying "plank you" instead of "thank you."

I don't remember what started it Sunday night but just before bed, we were all gathered together, and the laughter began. And it didn't stop, and it didn't stop. The more my dad laughed, the more we all laughed. And our sides hurt. And our faces were red. And we wanted to stop but we couldn't.

My dad was sitting uncomfortably on the floor, holding his side because it hurt so much. He kept saying, "We gotta stop. It hurts so bad..."

Well, that didn't work so well. I was then stupid enough to say something else that made the laughter continue. And then... I tried... I really tried. I kept my mouth straight, thinking that if I was serious, eventually the laughter would die down.

But then I looked at my mom. Her face was so red... and her eyes were squinted. She was clearly trying to stop laughing. But just the look on her face got me going again. And it continued...

Somehow we got everyone to simmer down. Everyone held their sides. My poor dad.

But, I am thankful for the moment. Laughter, truly the best medicine and vice (if it can be called that) in the world.

A Series of Very, VERY Important Letters

2010-03-05T12:54:00.000-08:00

Sorry, I must interrupt this story for a bit of important business...

Dear Hickory Kist,
Sorry I spilled Dr. Pepper all over your floor... and I mean all over. Okay, so it was only by the fountain drinks. But now it's a sticky mess.
Sincerely,
A very sorry customer
Ps. The sandwich was delicious. Mmm.

Dear guy with white shoes,
Sorry I spilled Dr. Pepper all over your pants. I hope I did not get your white shoes. But thank you very much for providing floor clean-up help.
From,
A cute girl (You should have gotten my number...)

Dear Mrs. Triple T lady,
I am 26 yrs. old. Not 10. Jujube is definitely not my mom. But thanks for asking.
From,
A very confused customer

Dear Spanish Fork,
I'm sorry for almost killing myself due to the white truck blocking my view of the road. However, you'll be glad to know that I am fine, Jujube is fine, and I did not make a terrible mess all over Main Street.
Sincerely,
A very careful driver

Dear Pier 1 Imports,
I would like a job as a copywriter in your home office. You'll be pleased to know I have super great references and an incredible portfolio. Please call me soon.
Sincerely,
A very talented writer

Dear economy,
Shape up and deal with it like a man. This is no time to pout and cry. Come on. You can pull through.
From,
One who cares

Dear future home,
I'm coming. And after being at Triple T, I really hope you have a fireplace. I would really like to roast marshmallows while watching a sappy love story.
From,
Your future occupant

Child's Fire Part 2

2010-02-18T18:29:00.000-08:00

Brita looks at Mr. Hanning who again makes a gesture with his hands. Brita takes a deep breath and begins.

It was the pickle. Johny’s pickle. The one with hair and greese all over it.

Johny made Vicky stick it in her mouth. Said if she didn’t, he would pull her pants down when she wasn’t payin’ attention. Vicky’s afraid of everyone seein’ the big, ugly scar ‘cross her back leg. Says if anyone sees it, they won’t play with her anymore. I didn’t know what she was talkin’ about. I’ve seen it. It is ugly. Grotesque, my mommy would say. But I’m still her friend.

But when Johny threatened her, she shoved almost the whole pickle in her mouth. Had her eyes closed the whole time. Squinted like the sun was right in front of her face. She held it there for thirty seconds. I counted. Then she spat it out. She said she thought she swallowed a chunk.

I didn’t need Johny to threaten me. If Vicky was going to do a dare, so would I. I left it in my mouth longer, just to show I could. Johny said he was going to suck all the grease off it just to see what would happen. We wanted to look at the pickle afterward. See if all the grease was really gone. And the hair too. But, when Johny spat it out, the dog picked it right up and swallowed it whole.

This is how it started?

Yes.

What happened to Vicky and Johny after?

I don’t know. I saw them once… with the mean lady. They were sad. I waved to them, but I don’t think they saw me.

Pause. Brita holds very still. She’s scared but knows she must answer the questions.

Tell me about the fire, the first fire.

Fire is fire. My mommy says stuff like that all the time. Food is food. Money is money.

I think fire is pretty, but now I know fire is bad. Mommy was right. I used to like fire. I would take a can of hairspray and an empty milk carton out on the back porch, spray hairspray in the carton, stick a match in. Vicky always ran home to tell her mom. She hates doing anything grown-ups tell kids is bad. I never got hurt. Well, except the time Johny was dumb and plugged the carton with my finger. My finger hurt and got…

Mr. Hanning and Mr. Strong shift in their seats. Knowing time is short, Dr. Scott stops Brita’s story.

I understand, Brita. But can you tell me about the one that killed your mother?

Brita sighs, loudly this time.

I remember hearing Beep, Beep, Beep. The smoke alarm. I don’t know how it started. I know it was me, but I don’t know how I started it.

Child's Fire Part 1

2010-02-17T21:36:00.000-08:00

Scene:

Small office, walled with tan wallpaper and white trim. Comfortable. A large window overlooks the busy street, three stories down. In front of the window is a large oak desk, clean, well organized. A computer monitor flashes pictures of people: kids, babies, parties, a kiss. A leather-backed, swivel chair is pushed neatly against one side, facing two open black chairs on the other side.

Bookshelves fill the wall space to the right, and on the left is a large mirror, positioned perfectly in front of the bed-like chair, brown with a headrest. A small, round table sits next to the bed with a cup of dead flowers and a blank notepad and pen. Three other chairs occupy the room. One is a few feet from the bed and two others are positioned just behind it.

A tall, balding man enters the room, followed by two younger men—one with glasses the other with a bandaged hand and cheek, as if he had been burned. The balding man takes the seat in front of the bed-like chair and the younger men sit behind him.

The men are quiet; the balding man takes the pad and jots a few notes before the office door again opens and a small girl—about five—walks in, carefully, as if she is afraid to step too hard. She gently closes the door and waits. The balding man looks up.

Brita, come, take a seat.

Brita floats, slowly, to the bed-like chair and sits very still, afraid to move. She doesn’t look at the balding man, or the two younger men behind him. She looks at the dead flowers.

The balding man notices.

I haven’t replaced them yet.

Brita nods.

Brita, I am Dr. Scott and these two men you already know. Mr. Hanning (the one with glasses) and Mr. Strong (the one with bandages). They brought you here, right?

Brita nods.

Do you know why you are here?

Brita nods.

Good. Then we can get started. I am go…

When can I see my daddy?

The balding man doesn’t know what to say. He looks to the two men behind him who only nod.

Soon, Brita. But for now, I need you to answer a few questions.

Brita nods.

First, Brita, how are you feeling right now?

Brita doesn’t answer right away but looks at Mr. Hanning who nods and makes a hand movement that Brita recognizes. She knows she must answer all questions without hesitation.

Scared.

Why are you scared, Brita?

If I don’t answer you, I won’t see my daddy.

Are you scared for another reason, Brita?

My mommy is gone and my brother is in the hospital and others are gone and my house is gone and my dog is run away and my friends are locked in a room and my new home is gone and the mean lady is gone.

Is that all?

Brita takes a deep breath.

It never is.

Do you understand what happened to the people and things that are gone? To your mommy and the mean lady and your house? Do you understand, Brita?

Yes.

It is good you understand, Brita, because we need to talk about why and how those things were lost.

Brita nods.

We need to start from the beginning. Okay, Brita? Now, Mr. Hanning told me you have a story about how it all started. Will you tell me?

If I have to.

Really, God, I Am Thankful

2010-02-11T14:21:00.001-08:00

Dear God,

I have much to be thankful for.

First of all, thank you for healing my dad. I remember when we found out he had a brain tumor. We were all scared. But we got him home and to a great neurosurgeon who was able to take the whole tumor out.

Yes, after he woke up from the surgery he could not move the left side of his body. And it was a few weeks before he came home. It was a difficult Christmas with him in the hospital. But, he continues to amaze everyone with his recovery. Everyday he is able to move his leg and arm a little bit more. And today he has been walking without his cane.

Thank you for a great family. I have a lot of support from each of my parents and my brothers and sisters. I know I can turn to them anytime. And they are all really great examples to me.

Thank you for allowing me to visit my brother in Michigan in December. I almost didn't go because my dad was still in the hospital. But my mom convinced me that I needed to go, even though I had already seen his family over Christmas when they came down. But I don't get to see his family very often and it was great to spend time with and get know my nephews and niece.

Thank you for an incredible boss. Jujube is very understanding of... well... everything. Even when life sucks for her, for me, or for us both, she always knows how to laugh. And she always knows how to give out compliments and make me feel like a great writer. (Thank you, Jujube. And remember, you are awesome. And you have taught me well.)

Thank you for all my friends. I have many. But there are a select few who have really helped me these last few months. They know who they are. And even if they don't, after reading this, they should.

Thank you for a place to live, food to eat, and things to do. It has been good to keep busy these last few months.

Really, God, I am thankful--for everything.

No More Broken Hearts, Please

2010-02-10T20:47:00.000-08:00

For my birthday, Jujube got me a box of heart-shaped cookies--and mmm, were they yummy. However, this was the problem:

... A broken heart. :-(

And yes, I ate it.

After Jujube bestowed upon me this lovely box of cookies, she proclaimed: I hope this is not an omen of things to come.

....

Me too.

This better not be a year of heart-ache, I say. I mean geeze, I'm not getting any younger and, in the words of Jujube, my eggs are drying up. (She told me to tell that to a certain Mango the other day... Makes me laugh just thinking about it.)

So, dream guy, wherever you are, I'm waiting for you to bring me a whole cookie. Please come before the frosting dries up.

Thank you.

My 'Work Birthday'

2010-01-22T15:24:00.001-08:00

My favorite part about today:

Today is what Jujube calls my work birthday. Reason: my birthday is Sunday, but we are celebrating today. When I got to work, I found this...

My other boss said it looked like Jujube was tormenting me with the prison bar-like decorations. She replied that by locking me in she gets more work out of me.

So, because today was my awesome "work birthday," Jujube decided to throw random banana facts at me (just as she is Jujube, I am Banana) over my cubicle wall.
So, here they are:

The banana plant is in the same family as the lily and the orchid.
The banana tree is not really a tree, but a giant herb.
Banana prices in North America have increased eight percent since 2006.
Bananas were introduced to the American public in 1876.
Three medium size bananas weigh approximately one pound.
One of the quickest ways of curing a hangover is to drink a banana milkshake.
The vitamin B6 in bananas helps regulate blood sugar.
Over 96 percent of American households purchase bananas at least once a month.
Bananas are rich in potassium and will help with bloating.
Bananas fried with batter is a popular dessert in Malaysia.
Bananas are grown in at least 107 countries.
Bananas are America's #1 fruit.
The word 'banana' is Arabic for finger.
In Eastern Africa, you can buy banana beer. This beer is brewed from bananas.
The banana plant reaches its full height of 15 to 30 feet in about one year.
There used to be a banana plant at the high school. Not anymore. (We went to the same high school.)
Bananas love a tropical climate but they are even grown in Iceland in soil heated by geysers.
Scientists are trying to develop a hybrid, disease-resistant banana.
In 2001, Britain recorded 300 incidents of injuries related to bananas.
"Yes, I like cars and basketball. But you know what I like more? Bananas." - Frankie Munoz
"It is definitely a bit of a banana skin." - Ryan Giggs
The banana peel is edible. Mmm. Bananas.
Why did the banana go out with the prune?
Because he couldn't find a date.
What did the boy banana say to the girl banana?
"You have a lot of appeal."
In India, a man once ate 81 bananas in half an hour.
Why are bananas never lonely?
Because they hang around in bunches.
A banana tastes really creamy but contains no fat.
"My friend asked me if I wanted a frozen banana. I said, 'No, but I want a regular banana later, so... yeah.'" - Mitch Hedberg
"Never interrupt me when I'm eating a banana." - Ryan Stiles
"Intellectual property has the shelf life of a banana." - Bill Gates
Worldwide, bananas are the fourth largest fruit crop.
Tom: What did the banana say to the elephant?
Nick: I don't know.
Tom: Nothing. Bananas can't talk.
Please send requests to:
Banana Czar at banana@republic.com
If Banana doesn't respond, ask for Jujube.
There are more than 500 varieties of bananas in the world. Counting Sara, 501.
"This is America, not a banana republic." - Vincent Bugliosi
"His venture sounds like a banana peel awaiting its victim." - Charlotte Curtis
The average American consumes 28 pounds of bananas a year.
"A stock broker urged me to buy stock that would triple it's value every year. I told him, "At my age, I don't even buy green bananas." - Claude Pepper

And, I can't forget all the other crazy signs posted around my desk:

Bananas + Jujubes = Delicious
Anyone want a fruit salad?
"Stupid mangoes are the only ones worth knowing at all."
"If a Banana is partial to a mango, and does not endeavor to conceal it, the mango must find out."
Bananas + Strawberries = Perfect Catch (I think so.... )
Good things will come to you in a fortnight. (Does it include a man?)
Good things will come to you in a fortnight.
Bananas eat rice for breakfast.
Rice is nice... for dinner.
Bananas are delicious.
Do they have bananas in Korea? (I'm pretty sure I ate one there.)
Mmm. Bananas.

Needless to say, it's been a pretty great day.

Today's Best

2010-01-19T18:41:00.000-08:00

My favorite part about today: Well, I actually have a couple favorite parts.

#1 - Jujube and i went to KFC today... one of those I'm-hungry-so-let's-get-fattening-food runs. We ordered small potato wedges for Jujube and a strawberry parfait for me through the drive through. This is what we heard the worker repeat back to us: "So that's a strawberry parfait and a small wedgie?" Hehehe. Maybe it's juvenile, but it still makes me laugh.

#2 - So, I was helping set the table for a family meal and I remembered before helping my mom prepare the food that she clearly said we were going to eat off paper plates. But when dinner came around she dished the food onto plates that were clearly not paper. I said, "I thought we were going to have paper." My sister then replies, "Bacon?" Hahaha.

Love it. Anything to make me laugh.

The Link: Kiwi

2009-06-25T13:39:00.000-07:00

Okay, so here it is. The whole dealio on Mangos and Strawberries.

It all started one day when I was really upset about a boy. At the same time I had a phrase from my sister-in-law going around inside my head--crazy mango monkey. What it really means, I don't know. But soon I found myself writing something very interesting that changed my entertainment around the office.

I grabbed a small piece of paper and wrote: Crazy mango like to poop on strawberries.

Make any sense? It made quite a bit of sense to me.

I took the paper over to my friend Jujube and asked her what she thought. She looked at me a little funny and then I told her the interpretation: Boys like to be mean to girls. (So true.)

From then on boys were referred to as mangoes and girls were referred to as strawberries as we talked in our secret code of boy-lashing fun. But soon the joke spread throughout our office circle and you can imagine the great jokes that came out of our mango and strawberry analogy.

But, here's the great part. There is this fantastic frozen yogurt place my co-workers discovered where we would escape to when we needed a break. One day, I decided to get some strawberry yogurt with some sprinkled mangoes on top. Yum!

Yes, I was disappointed. But, i argued, the two still can't come together in harmony. The mangoes do not deserve the strawberries. They just don't work quite as well together as they should.

Sadly, my sister found the link: kiwis. (Although I still need to try this out for myself.) She announced to me the other day that mangoes and strawberries taste quite good with a bit of kiwi on top. I thought this over for a minute or two and exclaimed, "You've found it... the missing link. I need a kiwi."

So there you have it. If strawberries ever hope of getting along with mangoes, they need to find a kiwi.

(You can decide for yourself what the kiwi might represent.)

New

2009-05-26T11:18:00.000-07:00

This is my new blog.