Living of Love

Things I love the most about life right now:

-I am about to begin my last "real" semester (with actual classes) in college.
-I will be an aunt any day now. Penny is due to arrive next Tuesday!
-Tonight I am going to the Avett Brothers concert in Asheville! I have been looking forward to this since Septemberish. I am leaving for Utah tomorrow, so this is going to be a perfect finish to the fabulous Christmas break I've had so far.

I have to go finish doing laundry and packing so I won't elaborate on the fabulosity just yet, but suffice it to say that I love my family and life is just grand. Heavenly Father has blessed us with so much this year and we have tons to look forward to for next year as well. So for now I'll close with these lyrics from the beautiful boys who will be serenading me tonight, since they say so perfectly what I feel about living a life of love.

For just one chance to find love with someone that you loved to find -- for just the sense to try to walk ahead and leave the pain behind -- if the days aren't easy and the nights are rough, when they ask you what you're thinking of, say "love." Say for me "love." 


Your heart says, "Not again. What kind of mess have you got me in?" But when the feeling's there, it can lift you up and take you anywhere. With the gravel beneath you and the limbs above, if anybody asks you where you're coming from, say "love." Say for me "love."


Say yes, we live; uncertainty and disappointments have to be. And every day we might be facing more. And yes, we live in desperate times, with fading words and shaking rhymes. There's only one thing here worth hoping for. With Lucifer beneath you and God above, if either one of them asks you what you're living of, say "love." Say for me "love."

Hilarity and bliss

Yesterday in the SLC airport there was a lady who started talking to my sister and me about our Carolina sweatshirts. Here's how the conversation went down.

Lady: Oh I see we have a couple of Carolina girls right here!
Me: Yep, born and raised.
Lady: I just came from South Carolina myself.
Me: Yeah, well we're from North Carolina
(I was thinking, "and it's SO much cooler than South Carolina.")
Lady: Yeah, I can tell by your sweatshirts. Looks like we have a couple of Tarheels in da house! 
(Keep in mind this is a totally white lady. A really weird and hilarious totally white lady, as it turns out.)
A few minutes pass and we've talked about southern accents and stuff and Kelsey and I have gone back to reading our books. Then the lady picks up her stuff and brings it over and sets it down next to Kelsey.
Lady: Would you mind watching my crapola for a minute? I'm gonna go get a Starbucks.
Kelsey and me: Sure, no problem.
Lady: Well do you guys want a Starbucks?
Me: Naw, I think we're okay. Thank you though.
Lady: Well I mean I feel bad, cause you're watching my crapola for me!
Me: Ha . . . it's okay. Thanks.
She leaves and comes back with "a Starbucks."
Lady: Ohp! I got a Starbucks! Thanks for watchin my crapola. You're Carolina girls so I trust you to watch my crapola.
Me: You're welcome, ma'am. No worries.
As she's bending over to put her wallet back in her bag, she reaches her hand in her coat pocket.
Lady: Oh man! I've got hard boiled eggs in my coat pocket!
(I'm thinkin, 'wiggity what?! hahahahahaha')
Lady: I stole 'em from the hotel this morning! And now they're cracking and I've got boiled egg mess all over my coat pocket! ha ha ha!
Me: Welp, sometimes you have to make sacrifices for what you really want.
Lady: Well have a nice Christmas, ladies. Thank you for watching my crapola.

Loved it.

As you've probably gathered by now, I flew home yesterday. Being home is the best ever! Holy crapola, I love my family so much. Also, Kelsey's birthday was Monday so I made a little video for her since I didn't get to make her a cake or anything. I didn't really want to share it with everyone, but Daddy loves it (he's watched it like 10 times) and insists that I share it with more people. So here it is. Woot.

I am finally feeling like it's Christmastime, thanks to family and the Jackson 5.

More music!

This time I teamed up with my beautiful seestor Kelsey (whose birthday is today! Woot!) to record a cover of "Midnight" by Jump, Little Children. I do so love singing with this chica.

'Snot fair!

This past Sunday I awoke, all snuggly in my bed,
To discover, alas! I had snot in my head.
I hoped it would clear up throughout the day,
But, dagnabbit! That snot monster just wouldn't go away.

Today, today, it finally came:
The day of reckoning, for this week's horrid name
Is "Finals Week." So, yes, the timing is perfect.
(I sure hope you caught the sarcasm, with all due respect.)

The day before this, I had no tests to take,
So I spent every hour that I was awake
Just thinking and hoping and praying that I
Could get rid of this sickness, or just up and die.

I got lots of fluids and went to bed early.
I even slept in! (But only a little, don't worry.)
Yet all that happened was that it got worse.
The snot won't subside. My head wants to burst.

So I took my first final, with snot in my head,
Wishing that I could be sleeping instead.
I think (and hope and pray) I did well,
But unfortunately it's just too soon to tell.

I've practiced the organ for an hour and three-fourths,
And still have many hours to go. But of course,
All I want to do is curl up on the couch
With a boy and a blanket, a mug to my mouth

That's full of hot chocolate, or even some wassail.
Just something to soothe me, or possibly jostle
The snot from out of my head and chest.
And if it got rid of finals? Well, that'd be the best.

My favorite way to procrastinate

I've recorded another song! My gee-tar skills are still lacking, but I'm fairly pleased with how this one turned out. Also, this song speaks to my soul. Enjoy!



Disclaimer: I did not write this song. I wish I had enough creative genius to have written it, but it is by the group Hem. I have never written a song in my life. Except for silly ones.

Holy wow. Ants in my pants.

Right about a year ago is when I said to myself, "Self, you have the chance to go to Britain for two months, and you're IFFY about it?! You're crazy. Just fill out the application and get 'er done. You won't regret it."

Welp, I went, and now I need a good verb that means "absolutely did not regret it," because that's what I did.

(Irregret, maybe? Let's see how this sounds: I irregretted it. . . .  Yyyyyeah, I'll keep workin on it.)

Anyway, I'm realizing now that maybe there's something about the month of December that puts these insects down my trousers, because all it took was one little thought and a glance at the HELP International website to get me feeling like my heart is going to explode out of my chest with excitement.

See, I have to do an internship for my minor (Teaching English to Speakers of Other Languages), and there are about a bajillion options for me at this point. But even with all of these options--some that could keep me in Utah with a lot of my friends, others that could take me back home to NC--I don't necessarily feel drawn to very many of them. For three and a half years now, I have been working on this here college education of mine. Who have all my efforts been benefiting? ME. Me, me, me. And lately I've come to realize why I have been looking forward to doing my internship. It's because it will finally be a chance for me to give back a little bit of what I've learned and help somebody else with it. Thus, with all these options and limitless possibilities, here's what it all boils down to:

I want desperately to go to South America, and by golly I'm gonna make it happen.

Gulp.

What the gladsome tidings?!

I'm done with classes! 4 finals next week. This is bliss.

Also, I can't wait to have sleepy babies one day. And drum major babies too.

Yes, the hour right now is very wee, but . . .

I just have to announce that it's official: I am going home for Christmas. Kelsey is too. We are both going home for Christmas. 

P.S. Miracles totally happen.

Anyway, I can't wait! The 4-hour layover in Detroit on the return flight is sure to be a blast . . . not. But we're going home. That's all that matters. And to tell you the truth, I would have rather enjoyed having that four hour layover in Atlanta. As crazy as that airport gets, I just don't think I can get enough of all the black ladies callin me darlin and sweet pea! BAHHHHH I'm so excited for home!

Also, I just realized that once I get back to Utah after Christmas, I will have been on sixteen flights this year. Sixteen. That's crazy! I guess I'm making up for not ever leaving the state of Utah in 2009 (except for that day trip to Idaho with Mary). Good thing I love traveling. 

A cold and frosty morning. There's not a lot to say about the things caught in my mind.

There actually is a lot in my mind (and in my heart) right now, but it is almost 2:00 AM and the homework is still looming. I've enjoyed my Thanksgiving break, perhaps a bit too much, and now the last two weeks of classes are upon me. With this comes the realization that I will pretty much graduate in five months, after which I will complete an internship in who-knows-where, and that is when it happens. That is when the next chapter of my life begins: I will have regained non-student status; I haven't had claim to that since I began kindergarten in 1994. That will have been sixteen years prior. Sixteen years of formal education.

I have a confession.

Though I did have those years from ages zero to four when I did not attend school, I have no clue what the whole "not being a student" thing is like.

With those realizations comes the huge one: that every decision I make impacts my life, and especially those that I make in the coming years can change things drastically. In the words of Marty McFly, "Whoa . . . that's heavy."

But. 

The facts are these:

My Heavenly Father loves me. 

He takes care of me.

He has given me incredible opportunities. 

He will continue to love me.

He will continue to take care of me.

He will continue to give me incredible opportunities. 

Of these opportunities, none of them will be straight-up bad.

I will be choosing between many good things.

I have to choose what I think is the best?

No.

I have to choose.

And then with His help, I will make it the best.

I am sitting in my living room with only the Christmas lights on. Paper snowflakes are hanging from the ceiling. The only noises I hear are the keyboard and the clock, ticking away words and time. That means the dryer has stopped and it's time to get my pink blanket out and put the gray one in. My living room stays so cold, so I have to keep the blankets warm. 

I am so blessed. So what else really matters?

Marius

My dear friend Mark is working on a documentary about an extraordinary young boy named Marius.

Marius is from Romania. One night a boiler exploded in his house, killing his parents and leaving him with third and fourth-degree burns over seventy-five percent of his body. Thanks to some skilled surgeons, a couple of BYU students and their families as well as countless others who have contributed to his recovery, Marius has made tremendous progress and is now about to be adopted into a loving family here in the United States. 

Mark is working hard to make sure that Marius's story is told, and this is why I believe in his cause:

The power of the human spirit is incredible. Not only am I amazed by the way that people have reached out to help Marius (or the way they've responded to this project), but the attitude that Marius has about everything that he has encountered is phenomenal. He does not allow himself to be restricted by his circumstances, and he lives his life. Happily.

How many of you can do that? How many of us have enough faith, enough courage, enough willpower to forget ourselves? To forget our trials, heartaches, and losses? To forget our scars -- whether physical or emotional -- and rise above whatever deformities or imperfections we may have? How many of us are as happy and grateful as we should be for just being alive?

Words from this eleven-year-old boy who has every excuse in the world to let himself be sad, angry, or broken:

"How can I not be happy? I have people who love me. I'm going to get fixed."

We can all be happy. We are all loved. We can all be fixed.

Go here to learn more about Marius, about Mark's project, and about what you can do to help.

*Update 11/12/10:
I talked with Mark last night and learned a few more things about the adoption situation. Soon after the family learned that the adoption would go through, the mother was diagnosed with cancer. For a little over a month, she was driving anywhere from 2 to 4 hours (depending on traffic) each way to receive her chemotherapy and other treatments. This has been yet another financial strain on the family as they have had to work on finalizing the adoption as well.

Mark and his team have set a goal that with everyone's help will be a piece of cake to meet: in addition to gathering funds for the completion of the documentary, they want to raise enough money to pay for Marius's adoption as a surprise for the family. If we can get six or seven hundred people to donate twenty dollars, this goal will be realized. (If you're a poor college student like me, go in on it with your roommates; if there are four of you in the apartment, each of you gives five bucks and then we've got another twenty going toward the goal.) You can donate through the project site, or if you're in town feel free to contact me and I will see that the money gets to Mark and his team.

Mark is leaving today for Romania to do a few more interviews of family members, friends, and others who played vital roles in Marius's life, both before and after the incident. He and his team will be gone for a week and a half. Let's see what we can do before they get back!

Mad Gab: Might rule of

Isle of the gay mad cab. Hits won huff thief ewe eye kin hallways when, oar hat lease tie kin play whale. Weed is covered tour three weak sag oath Addie few Sadie were does sin aim exit can act sent, eat sail ah tea sear two wonder Stan watch yore say yin. Sew handy weighs, eye half de-sighed did a cup pull love thing sob out thee sag aim.

Won: Eat wood beef unto rye tab log pose tin these tile love mad cab (hints these ram bull egg non since)

Too: Matt hell she dire me two irk fourth Yemen may king anew gay muff mad cab – Ike hoodie fin may Kwan furs banish an dean glitch bye lean gulls. Eat wood ink lewd thinks rid ten wed thing glitch were does (jostle like eye yam dew wing hen thee sin tenses) buttons dead off sin bull eye sing thing glitch long witch, thick hard swords hound lye cowards frumps banish. Lye dish:

Hole uh. Coe mow west toss? Joe west toy bee yin, grass see us. Eat two? A spare okay his stays fail easy Kaye toe dote hey buy uh bee in. Key air okay say possum poke oh day me sin tea me in toes par uh tea: Air Islam may whore persona Kaye hey cone oh see doe hen toe dome Eve E. duh E. poor rest oat hey ham mow.

Do Jew thing eye king it tired buy matt hell?

Life's surprises

Turns out I can sort out my priorities.

Turns out I have the best friends in the world.

Turns out snow in October can make me happy.

Turns out I make a hot nun.

Turns out 2 years isn't that long at all.

Turns out starting from scratch is a wonderful thing.

Turns out I can do a lot more than I thought I could.

Turns out life is beautiful.

Picture post!

It's a rainy day, I haven't blogged about life's happenings in a while, and I have acquired quite a fabulous collection of fotos from the past 2 months or so . . . so here are some pictures. Enjoy.

Birthday eve: Fun with the exercise ball

Birthday eve: TOO MUCH fun with the exercise ball

Birthday eve visit from Matt Street. 

My birthday cake before it was baked

We tie-dyed the cake, icing, chip dip, and shirts. 

A piece of the cake

Every time we cut a new piece, it was a brand new surprise. So delightful.

We didn't want to dye each other.

The party wouldn't have been complete without Fruit Stripe gum (and the tattoos, of course)

Our Nacho party! We ate nachos and watched Nacho Libre. I lahved it.

We have a pretty large living room, and we didn't even really have room for everyone who came. It was the bayyst!

Josh and I made Nacho masks! Love this boy so much. He's fanTAstic!

Debra modeling the cape and mask. 

Anaconda squeeeeeze!

"Summon your eagle powers!"
"What do you think I am doing?!"

They are my . . . recreation clothes.

I had a really bad day a couple of weeks ago so Debra bought me some smiley face balloons. For reals y'all, I have the best roommates ever.

First prank of the Halloween season: Doughnut mountain by our door. 

. . . and in Maddie's bike basket. 

Conquering the pile of doughnuts. 

. . . Conquering the pile of doughnuts. 

Oh yeah, I forgot, they also left some milk. Mmmm. 

Remind me why I posted this? Oh yeah, because it's hilarious.  AND super flattering.

Sometimes Debra and I are hotties.

Other times we're in the air.

(Photo credits go to my dear sweet Madelane.)

In other news:

Last Friday night, Debra and I got bored and decided to go buy a couple of pet fish. We bought an Oranda (we named him Ron Weasley, since he has an orange head) and a Black Moor. We named that one Othello. (Tee hee, right?) Now, we picked Ron because he was very friendly in the tank. We put our finger up to it and when all the other fish swam away, Ron followed our fingers. He liked us! So he was a keeper. Othello won our hearts with his awkward shimmy-swim. He was kind of the runt, too, so of course he was cuter than the others. After we got home and put them in their bowl, Ron started spazzing out (I think it was because of his reflection) and swimming backward all the time. We kept a close eye on them on Saturday, but all we could see was that Othello seemed very happy and Ron did not. With further observation, I realized that Othello's head was heavier than the rest of him, which made him have to wiggle his fins in that really funny way to keep from having to swim with his head straight down. Great, I thought, we got the quirkiest fish! They won't be boring! Well since life with these fish couldn't be boring, we came home from church on Sunday and Othello was dead. That's right, we only kept him alive for a day and a half. He had sunk to the bottom head first, with the rest of his body straight up. Heavy headed Othello. It's too bad, because I liked him the most! We decided it was Ron's fault, so we renamed him Iago. Mostly I just call him "the fish," but whatevers. I just hope I'm a better parent to my real children someday.

Fall is here and it is oh so wonderful! Of course, it's no North Carolina autumn, but it's still great. Pumpkin spice hot chocolate has changed my world. I still haven't had enough free time to read for fun; I have given up on finding time to read Mockingjay and The Book Thief. I just can't justify reading for fun when my school work isn't done, and it never gets done until ridiculous hours of the night. I am craving a fun read, though, and I know once I pick it up I won't put it down. So Thanksgiving will be glorious.

My parents have finally found a house! I'm not sure how many of you were aware of the situation, but they had moved out of the house and were uncertain of where they were going to live. With Daddy's health and the finances the way they are, everything was very stressful and slow-moving. All the unknowns were killing me. I really just wanted to fly out there and help them, but all I could do from here was pray. But guess what? Prayers are answered for dang sure! I am so grateful for it, too.

I did an observation at the English Language Center the other day and it was such a good experience. It reconfirmed my decision to go into TESOL and reminded me why I loved the idea of it so much. Sometimes when I'm getting caught up with my classes and homework and the stress of everyday life, it's easy to lose sight of why I'm going through all of it. It was a nice reminder, and I am so excited to start applying the things I'm learning.

Maddie and Debra and I joined a dinner group. We meet Monday through Thursday every week, and there are about 10 of us. This means that apart from weekends, each of us only has to cook once every 2 weeks or so. And yet we still get awesome meals! I think it is one of the best decisions I've ever made. Aside from the fantastic food, the people in the group are just wonderful. I've said it before, but I'll say it again: I LOVE MY WARD.

I got locked out of my house a couple of weeks ago without my shoes or phone. Luckily I have very kind neighbors! I was able to go over to the rental office and borrow a key so that I didn't have to pay 35 dollars to have someone come and open it for me. I used my watch as collateral and felt like I was in some sort of multi-million-dollar deal of some sort.

I am going through another Motown phase and every time a song by Stevie Wonder comes on my Pandora station I just can't help but grin for the rest of the day. And dance a lot.

I finally saw Toy Story 3 and cried my eyeballs out for the last 15 minutes.

Joey and I are going to see Ingrid Michaelson on Tuesday.  (!!!)

Life just gets more and more beautiful every day, that's all.

"No eyes that have seen beauty [or love] ever lose their sight."

My eyes. Eyeballs. Ojos. Crazy ojos. Light brown ojos. Honey ojos?

I used to want green eyes. Green eyes so that I could be pretty. Green eyes so they wouldn't be quite as commonly revered as blue eyes. See, I thought blue eyes were overrated, and the second-to-last thing I wanted was to have overrated eyes. And the last thing I wanted was to be underrated, and I thought people (mostly boys) hated brown eyes. But then my sister told me that the pattern in my irises looks like sunflowers. Sunflowers! Not poop! Sunflowers! Brown sunflowers. Not dead sunflowers. Brown sunflowers. And to this day I love having my brown eyes.

My eyes are like Daddy’s eyes. Daddy’s eyes that earned him the nickname “Hound Dog.” Mine are not quite as hounddoggish as his, or as beautiful, unfortunately. They kind of tilt down toward my cheeks on the outside corners, and there is a lot of space between my eyelid and brow, and the skin that’s there tends to slump over the outermost half of each eye, hence the “hound dog” appearance. I am lucky to only get bags under them when I am extremely tired, and even after crying they don't stay puffy too long.

I can cross my brown, slightly-hounddoggish eyes. Pair this up with my funny fat-lip face and even the grumpiest kid will probably laugh. I can open my eyes really wide and it kind of frightens people sometimes. I can leave one eye crossed and the other one normal. I can put them both toward the back of my head so you can't even see the pupils. I can shake my ojos so it looks like they're having an earthquake.

My eyes love to be closed sometimes because they like it when I get to rest. They like it when I let my ears and nose and imagination take over and carry the sensory load that sometimes exhausts the poor little eyes. They especially love to feel sunshine on their lids. But then my eyes love to be open because they like to see beautiful things like green trees covering mountains, autumn leaves, lilies in the spring and snow in the winter. And beautiful art and smiles and handsome men and cute puppies and happy families and loyal friends and baby feet with baby toenails.

My eyes love to see other eyes, to lock with them and share in the moments where those eyes are sad or scared or worried, or just so happy that they can't hold back tears. Most of all they like to see the way people love. They love seeing the small gestures of affection: enormous hugs, Sacrament Meeting back scratches, Eskimo kisses, a friendly kick in the rear, a smile for no apparent reason, old people holding hands, young people holding hands. Of course, they get really jealous of people holding hands too, but mostly they just love it.

My eyes can help me perceive all the temporal beauty in the world, and with the help of my heart they see the physically imperceptible: goodness, joy, and love.

My eyes are one of my greatest blessings, for they allow me to see all of the others.

How are your headparts a blessing in your life?

"The eyebrows form but a small part of the face, and yet they can [lighten] the whole of life by the [delight] they express." -- some Athenian philosopher

Eyebrows. Eyebrowls. Mine are the same color as my hair (What color did I decide to call that? Wheaten?), and it's kind of weird because sometimes you can't see them in pictures. But I don't have to pluck them as often, and I have no mono-brow/uni-brow. You-knee-browl.

I can raise both of them at the same time. I can furrow both of them at the same time. I can raise my left one really high while I furrow my right one really low. I can make a lame attempt at doing that with my right eyebrow up. What really gets people going is when I make a wave with my eyebrows whilst wiggling my ears and, you guessed it, flaring my nostrils. Just wait till they see me pat my head and rub my belly too.

My eyebrows are a blessing.

High heels were invented by a woman who had been kissed on the forehead.

From my cheeks we'll slide on up my temples to my forehead. When I had that pre-ceding hairline as a kid, it was more like a fivehead -- it still is, in the places where I have cowlicks -- but for the most part it's just a normal forehead. The left side is usually covered by my bangs and the right half is exposed for . . . for what purpose? I'm not really sure. Still, like my chin, my forehead helps me rest in class -- though it's more for when I don't care about being inconspicuous.

My forehead is a major player in my snuggle maneuver and it’s great for resting on people’s shoulders when I’m sad, sleepy, silly or bashful. When it meets up with another forehead . . . suffice it to say that I believe in magic. Best of all, it tells me how hot I am!

My forehead is a blessing.

O that I were a glove upon that hand, That I might touch that cheek!

So, about my cheeks. They are kind of chubby. I have no idea whether to classify my zygomatic bones as classically beautiful and high or . . . low. I only know that they are there. They are there and they are chubby and they are where I get most of my acne. No, it's not attractive, but it's honest.

My cheeks are also home to a few freckles though, and I kind of like those little guys! That's where Mama and Daddy still give me kisses. And where I can slap my hands to show you the best Kevin McCallister impersonation you ever did see.

I can flick them with my jaw wide open and try to make a raindrop sound, and I can slide my finger from the inside of it really fast and do a great rendition of that "Lollipop" song. I can bite down on the insides and make great fishy faces, too. When I puff my cheeks out really far I can talk without moving my mouth. Unlike my chin, my cheeks don't tell too much about what's going on in my head. They do go white when I have a needle in me, but they're pretty loyal and don't give away my embarrassment too much.

My cheeks are a blessing.

A nose is a nose like a rose is a rose

My nose. My nose! Oh how I love my nose. I feel like I heard a lot of people complain about their noses as I was growing up, but I never paid too much attention to mine. Recently, though, I've come to really love my nose. It's just so cool! 

See, my nose is by no means itty-bitty, but it isn't big either. I've never broken it, so it's still straight and has a nice shape. I don't really have a turn-up at all but the tip is kind of chubby and I like it. I don't have a button nose, but it isn't pointy either. I may fly on broomsticks sometimes but I don't have warts on my nose.

My nostrils are small enough to look normal, but big enough to be talented -- I can now play three instruments (kazoo, recorder, and harmonica) with this fabulous nose of mine! (It's four if you count the penny whistle. I haven't tried it yet but I know I could do it.) My nose helps me smell wonderful things, like cinnamon and pumpkin scented stuff and Ajax. And vinyl, which has to be one of my favorite smells, I think because it reminds me of the cases that Disney VHS tapes come in. When I laugh really hard, especially if I'm trying to keep it quiet, my nostrils flare a lot. I can also do that on demand, which makes me extra happy when I'm nostril-flaring and ear-wiggling at the same time. 

My nose is a blessing in and of itself and it gets people to bless me. Either that or they just say I have cute sneezes.

Stupid Cupid, stop pickin' on me.

Then there's that thing that's called Cupid's bow or something like that above my lip, and mine is pretty pronounced, like my mama's. It's the thing I always made sure to draw when I drew pictures of people because I thought it made me a good artist. Attention to detail and all that. Sometimes I would spend three hours working on the shading on someone’s upper lip. Usually it just ended up looking like a horribly-trimmed mustache. 

I'm still working on figuring out how my Cupid's bow is a blessing. 

I already used the creative title for my bottom lip, so...

There's nothing too exciting to say about my top lip. It's pretty thin compared to its counterpart, and it doesn't do a whole lot except help me make raspberry noises. And keep my mouth shut, except all too often it can't even do that. I can make one funny face with it by curling it up to the top of my gums, but it's not nearly as hilarious or talented as my bottom lip is. I don't have too many good stories to tell about this little guy either. It does have a small scar toward the left side, but I don’t know what happened there. It is easily the least favorite of my crusty-crusts. But . . . it's still a blessing -- I wouldn't even be able to say the word "blessing" without it -- so whatevers.

"I feel really warm when I'm around you and my tongue swells up."

My tongue. What can I say? Well the simple answer is that I couldn't say anything at all if I didn't have it. It helps me taste yummy things like gelato and pumpkin spice hot cocoa and cinnamon flavored stuff. I can fold it in half, I can make a four-leafed clover, I've always been able to flip it to the left, and this summer I learned how to flip it to the right. It has a little scar on it from the time I was around ten years old and bit through my tongue. See, what had happened was, I was waking Gregory up and he wouldn’t budge, so I spat on him (I was really good at making you-know-what-kind-of-noises, thanks to him and my other brothers) and he shooed me away because, let's face it, no one wants my spittle on them. In the process, he accidentally knocked my chin, which forced my jaw to bite down upon the flesh that was between my teeth. Blood. Everywhere. Pain. Hole in my tongue. Ouch. Ice cream and pudding. Yay!

My tongue – and even that injury to it – is a blessing.

"Death awaits you all . . . with nasty big pointy teeth!"

Today I’ll talk about my teeth. My imperfect teeth. When I was twelve or thirteen and all my friends were getting braces, I could only think about how much I hated my teeth. I wanted mine to be perfect, too. Perfect and white and straight and just . . . perfect. We couldn’t afford to make my teeth perfect, and that devastated my poor preteen soul. I used to feel ugly because of my teeth. See, my two front teeth on the top are kinda crowded. The left one crosses over the right one a little bit, and the one just to the left of that one decided to show the first one up and cross over even more! My bottom teeth are all right, but my canines are weird and the left one isn’t even pointy. And the teeth in the very middle are a little farther back than my canines, I think as a result of those years of woodwind playing.

Two of my favorite things are made possible by teeth, though. Number 1: Eating. It’s a good thing I have teeth, or else eating steak would be an instant death wish.

Number 2: Smiling. In the words of Buddy the Elf, “I just love to smile. Smiling’s my favorite.” It’s contagious, and when I’m smiling I know I’m either happy or well on my way to getting there.

My crooked teeth are a blessing.

Usta!

I have a fat bottom lip. I didn’t even get beaten up! It’s just naturally a tad bit plump. This is the lip I can flip over to make an extra-cheesy frowny face or my favorite funny face where I put my tongue up so it looks like I have two huge lips. On the inside of it there is a small area that’s not exactly a scar, but is kind of tender from years of curving it over my teeth to play clarinet and sax. It’s a little bit chapped as it always is in Utah. This is the one I bite on a little bit when I am thinking really hard about something or trying not to smile too much. This lip is great for doing some of my favorite things, like drinking out of straws . . . (Daddy, close your eyes for the rest of this sentence) and kissing boys. Tee hee. Blush.

My bottom lip is a blessing.

Chin-Chinanee Chin-Chinanee Chin Chin Cheroo.

Under my ears is the slightest protrusion of a jaw bone. It’s a good thing I’m not a man, or that jaw line wouldn’t have much potential for being attractive. I have a couple of chins, but the main one comes out from my jaw into a rounded mound that gets this weird circle thing in the middle of it when I frown. I think I got that from my Daddy, because Mama’s got a swell cleft in her chin (like Gaston). My chin is kind of a gateway to my brain. It quivers when I try not to yawn. It shakes like a salt shaker when I’m about to cry. It gets dimply and spotted-looking when I purse my lips in disdain. But it also gives me a way to rest my head on my hand while still looking forward and pretending to pay attention in class. It makes for a great nose when I’m upside-down. 

My chin is a blessing.

All right, Sparky. Ear's the deal.

Traveling down from my baby-powdered wheaten hairs you will find my ears. I’ve never been too conscious of what my ears look like, but now as I check them out I see that they’re actually pretty stinkin’ adorable. They’re not too big, but they aren't tiny like Brad’s and Kelsey’s are.

My earlobes are detached (a fact that fascinated me when I first discovered that some people's are attached) and just under two years ago I got them pierced. From the time I was six (when my argument was “but Christina and Mallory have had their ears pierced since they were babies!”) until I was eleven, I always asked my Daddy if I could get them pierced, and he always told me, “Maybe next year. For your birthday.” After my eleventh birthday I gave up. Didn’t really care anymore. (I think that was his intent all along.) Anyway, my sophomore year of college, I decided to defy my parents’ authority and go get my ears pierced. (I am such a rebel, I know.) To this day, earrings are my favorite – and often my only – accessory. And as much as I would love to look grown-up and sophisticated with some pearls or diamonds in my ears, I just can’t stay away from big, bright, bold, bouncy earrings. They make me feel pretty. 

I also love to wiggle my ears up and down for fun. I got ear infections all the time as a kid, though, and ear-wiggling was pretty painful at those times. Even so, that talent, however painful it was at times, helped me get ear drops to the drum even more quickly. Because of all the fluid and consequential bad hearing (and because Mama got sick of my shouting), I got tubes put in my ears when I was ten. My first surgery, and my only one to date. Before that, I never knew just how loud a toilet flush was! It took some getting used to, but I am so grateful for my hearing. I love that with my adorable wiggling ears I can hear beautiful music. Motown. Bluegrass. Folk. And the voices of handsome men. And also baby laughs and flatulent noises that make me giggle and foghorns and wind chimes and high heeled shoes and General Conference talks. And words like “I love you” and “Take it easssyyy.” I love that in the moments where I am closest to the people I love, I can hear their heartbeats. 

My ears are a blessing.

Strawb'ry! Mmm!

Bald to red to strawberryish to brown to blonde. For some time now I haven't known what color my hair is. Lately it looks either blonde in good light or nasty in fluorescent. (But isn’t everything nasty in fluorescent?) I’ve always been very fond of the redheaded stepchild that I was when I was two years old, though, and I want to keep my claim to some strawberry! No matter how hard I try, though, I can’t see the red that I want. I wanna be a true strawberry blonde.

Why do I want that so badly? Truthfully, I don’t know. I just do. Don’t get me wrong -- I like my hair. I especially like that I’ve never dyed or highlighted it; I take pride in still knowing my natural color. There’s just something about “strawberry blonde” that sounds better than “blonde” to me. I guess after years and years of hearing stereotypes about hair color and personality – and I’m not only talking about blonde jokes – I just feel like my personality doesn’t really match that of a dumb blonde, a hot model-skinny blonde, or a whimsical floaty fairy blonde with ringing bells for a voice. But I don’t feel like a hot-tempered redhead either. If I had extra red hair like I did when I was a kid, I would like to think I could have a personality to match. I could be as feisty as my grandma! That said, I’m not sure I could ever live up to be quite as much of a fireball as Tookie is (though I did inherit her cowlicks), so my not-very-strawberryish blonde may have to suffice as the color my hair happens to be, with no indication of my temper, intelligence, or body type.

I like it, and I guess that’s what matters, right? Plus the light color is wonderful for days when I don’t have time to wash and style my hair . . . I can brush some baby powder through it and it looks perfectly fresh! It’s way cheaper than buying the dry shampoo products that don’t last very long.

My wheaten hair is a blessing.

Scalp to Chin: The "blessings upon my head"

My dear roommate Maddie told me not too long ago that her sister had to write an essay describing her face for a creative writing class. I thought it sounded like fun so I decided to give it a try. I ended up extending it to talking about my entire head, rather than just my face.  As I wrote this piece, in addition to having a blast just writing for the sake of writing, I came to a greater appreciation for the beauty in Heavenly Father’s creation of the human body, and specifically that of the head, home to our brains and central nervous systems. (It’s got some pretty important stuff in there!) 

I’m impressed not only by the sheer genius of said creation, but also the perfection of it. No, I am not saying that my head is perfect. I mean let's face it, I’m pretty doggone pretty, but I sometimes get acne and greasy hair, just like everyone. What I am saying is that God knew what He was doing when He made it. Each part of my body -- and each part of my head -- has served a specific purpose and helped me do things that, without it, I would be unable to do. Some of these things are silly things I do for fun, and some of them are essential to life. Through living life, finding confidence in myself, and writing this piece I have even come to appreciate the “imperfections” that riddle my head. That's what this essay is about.

"And verily I say unto thee, thine heart is now right before me at this time; and, behold, I have bestowed great blessings upon thy head.” (D&C 39:8)

My Father in Heaven truly has given me many blessings, and some of them are quite literally upon my head. For the first thirteen days in October, I am going to post one paragraph from my essay, each telling about a different part of my head. I hope that you, dear reader(s?), will enjoy it. I invite you to think about what you would say about your own head-parts. What do you like about your nose? What does your chin do when you get nervous? How do you make your funniest face? What makes you self-conscious about your ears? Most importantly, how has your head been a blessing in your life?

Tomorrow's paragraph: Hair.

Boberries. Banoffees. Boy oh boy.

Highlights of recent life:

Two weeks ago: first attempt at making banoffee bread. Recipe still needs tweaking, but it was still quite delicious. Loved it. 

Last Sunday: Joey and I made homemade Boberry biscuits. Or "Boberry biscookies," since we couldn't roll them out very well (too doughy). We just plopped balls of dough on the cookie sheet. They didn't look like much, but man oh man they tasted just like the real thing. Maybe I can woo some men with them. 

We had a ward talent show this past Friday and everything came together really nicely. (especially the nose-recorder and nose-kazoo playing that Maddie and Debra and I did. We won the "Bless Your Heart" award!) Can I just say that so far I'm absolutely loving working with Kevin (the other co-chair) and our committee members?! Blast and a half. 

My organ skills are still quite lacking, but they're coming along! I have to go to school really early to practice tomorrow, though. Zero fun, sir.

My family is moving out of the house this week. I'm not doing too well with that, so it's not exactly a highlight . . . but it's an important piece of info I guess. I'm just gonna miss it, that's all. 

Yesterday was the General Relief Society Meeting and we got to go up to Salt Lake and watch it in the Conference Center! We had great seats and I loved being there with Maddie and Debra. They are so good to me. Also, I still marvel at the Spirit that is felt in that building (or any building) when the Prophet walks in. I know that he is a man of God and speaks to us not only from his heart, but from the heart of our Father. He and the other leaders spoke to me about things I needed to hear, truths that I needed to remember. I love this gospel. 

Speaking of the house and of that wonderful meeting reminds me that I have been feeling all of my emotions very deeply lately, and it's kind of hilarious. I cry a lot. Not sad cry, but happy cry. I never just cry, though . . . I do my whole "laugh my head off and cry really hard at the same time" thing. Whether it's this Google ad (and this one too), Remember the Titans, that blasted song from Little Women, or finding out what my niece's name is going to be (!!!), I just can't contain my emotions sometimes! It's a little bit crazy, but Debbles joins in my cry-fests so I don't feel like such a baby. Mostly I just end up feeling very rejuvenated and a little bit silly. I kind of enjoy it. 

In sum, life is still beautiful. And I'm finding new reasons to love it more and more each day! 

Today, the reasons are stretchy pants and a little baby named Penny Jayne.

Labor day weekend

Can I just say this weekend was fantastic? Because it really was.

Highlights:

Friday: I stayed up late with Maddie and Debra, watching movies and such. Then I stayed up until 4 AM reading The Hunger Games. I couldn't put it down until it was done.

Saturday: Maddie and Debra and I tried to go the whole day without quoting Nacho Libre. See, Nacho works his way into our lives with almost every sentence that we hear or speak. So people thing we don't know a buttload of crap about anything besides Nacho, but we DO. . . . Needless to say, we failed pretty miserably. Debra and I were going to go get pedicures, but they were booked up. So we have appointments for this Friday! I am so excited. I read the first 1/3 of Catching Fire and only put it down because I wanted to spend time with the girls.

Sunday: Fast and testimony meeting. The Spirit taught me some really amazing things about myself and my goals. Some uneasiness that I have felt about my post-college plans was alleviated, and I was reminded again of the love my Father in Heaven has for me. I also got called to be one of the Activities Committee co-chairs in my ward. Especially since I have more time to be social this semester, I already love my calling and I can't wait to serve in that capacity and hopefully expand my creative outlet and have some fun. After church, we had a break-the-fast, then my good friend Matt Street came to visit. The last time I saw him was almost three years ago, and it was a blast to be with him again! We spent the evening laughing, catching up, and cooking food with my roomies. We made enough food for us to eat semi-healthily throughout the week without having to spend time cooking every night. Also, I discovered that if you season chicken with cinnamon, your barbecue chicken will be nothing short of bangin. I started reading Catching Fire again around 12:30 AM and read until 5 AM. I couldn't put it down until it was done. I should learn to be less obsessive about books, yeah? (I refuse to start Mockingjay until all my homework is done for the week. We'll see if that works out . . .)

Monday: Labor day. Oh, and my birthday. :) I woke up around 8:30 and dilly-dallied around the house. Debra refused to let me make my own birthday cake, but I helped a lot anyway. The cake was AWESOME. Let's just say that we wanted to make tie-dyed shirts for my birthday, and I felt like the cake and chip dip would have felt left out if they didn't get tie-dyed too. So they did. I'll post some pictures once I get them from Maddie. We went to the park and made shirts that turned out awesome! Then Debra treated Maddie and me to Wendy's. I gotta hand it to Debbles, she puts up with a lot from the two of us. We were pulling faces and making weird noises and stuff, but she handled it with her usual grace and poise. And she loved watching us make fools of ourselves too, I'm sure. ("I looked like a fool last night!" -- Nacho) Later on we had FHE, where we played a few get-to-know-you games. And I held hands with two boys. At the same time. Boombaby! Happy birthday to me.

You know those times in life where you just feel so good about everything? When things are going well all the time? And even though there are things that you wouldn't mind having happen in your life, you're so happy about the good stuff that the bad just doesn't matter as much as it could? Well that is how my life has felt pretty much all the time ever since I came back to Provo, but especially this weekend. There have been some frustrations and uncertainties, minor disappointments and stresses, but the good elements of my life have been so stinkin' gratifying that those other things don't phase me. I know that my Heavenly Father has blessed me in unimaginable ways for me to feel this way. Now, I'm no stranger to happiness, but I feel like God has truly blessed me with joy here lately. I think that, through all the doubts I've had about various things the past few months, this joy is His way of telling me that He is proud of me, and that I am where I need to be. It's an addictive feeling; I want to feel like this forever! I'm so glad to know that I can.

Happy due date to me!

I think it's very appropriate that I was late for class today, because if you'll remember waaay back to the time when I sleep-blogged, I blamed Mama for my being late everywhere since she had me five days late.

In other news, I informed a couple of my study abroad friends that Monday is my birthday, and they got really excited. I then announced, "Yeah, and today is my due date!" Right afterward, a girl walking in front of us turned around and looked right down at my belly, probably hoping to see a really cute pregnant lady. Well let's just say that my belly ain't tiny, but it ain't no baby bump either. I think she was disappointed.  Someday, sentimental girl. Someday.

Uh-murr-kuh.

I've been back in the States for a while and I finally have the time to blog again. The past week and a half has been filled with some stress and a few tears, but mostly fun and loveliness.

I got home to NC on the 16th. The flight was long and less-than-comfortable, but it was a billion times more bomby than sleeping on top of an air conditioning vent in the windowsill in an airport. But I had done that in Rome the day before, so . . .

Anyway, every time I went to sleep and woke back up on the plane, I got more and more excited because it meant I was closer to home. When I stepped foot in the Detroit airport I nearly cried because I WAS IN AMERICA. I hadn't been in this country since eight weeks before, and I missed it! Customs was easy as pie, and I had enough time to change (I saved out an outfit the entire trip so that I could have clean clothes to go home in) and call my parents. The flight from Detroit to Charlotte was an hour and a half or so -- just enough time to read another play in my Oscar Wilde book. And then, there it was. North Carolina. The most beautiful place I'd seen in the two months since I'd left.

It was great to be at home with my family. One of my favorite times was when I was talking with mama about something Bryan said on his facebook status. He reported that kissing actually helps allergies, as one of the chemicals released is a natural histamine blocker. Daddy was sitting there and said, "I want some of that!" so mama put on her "just watch me, I'm about to do something clever" face and kind of frolicked over to Daddy and smooched him on the lips. Daddy looked up at Mama with wide eyes, kind of confused at what was going on. Turns out he was being silly and commenting on a commercial that was showing for smokeless cigarettes, which, by the way, sounds like the dumbest invention ever. Besides real cigarettes. He didn't seem to mind that she had misunderstood him, though. My parents are cute.

Friday came and Kelsey and I left to come back to BYU. I was sick (I had allergies at home, but for whatever reason I still had a cold when I left) and it was pretty miserable, but I got some hot chocolate in Phoenix that helped my throat. And then, there it was. Utah. The most . . . brown and dry place I'd seen in the two months since I'd left.

On Saturday I went with Jaz and Brandon (who are now engaged! Yippee!) to St. George for Cameron and Rachel's wedding luncheon where I caught my fourth bouquet in a year and a half. I'm beginning to suspect the stories aren't true.

Anyway, Kelk and I stayed with Bradalie until Monday and then I "moved in" to my new place. Really that just means that I took my carry-on suitcase and bookbag that I've lived out of for the past two and a half months and put those in the apartment and slept on the couches for the past few nights because my bedding and all of my other possessions are still being stored. . . . I'm looking forward to getting my stuff back when Naomi gets back in town.

Yesterday we moved Kelsey into her place in Helaman Halls. It kind of blows my mind that she's a college student now because I don't even feel old enough to be a college student. But here she is, and here I am. I'm so excited to spend time with her this year.

So even though I'm kind of dying every day from how dry it is here (it's worse than I remember!), it is good to be back and getting ready for school. I am excited to have a real schedule again.

And my new home? Well, I'll take pictures once we've gotten everything settled in and decorated, but it's awesome. Kind of a little bit HUGE. And beautiful. With tons of kitchen space. And (as of this morning) hot water. . . . Let's just say that my first two showers in my apartment were a tad chilly. Said showers were also sans shower curtain, but my time in Europe prepared me for that pretty well.

Debra is moving in today and Maddie is coming tonight, and we still have yet to meet mystery girl, but I know it will be great! I love my class schedule, work schedule, my coworkers who dunked me in Utah lake yesterday, my home, and at least two of my roommates, so I am really looking forward to this year -- my last year of college.

(!!!)

P.S. My birthday is coming up. I want a hammock, fishing rod and tackle. And a canoe for sitting space in my living room as inspired by our office riparian outing yesterday.

I feel funny.

I don't have much to say about the past couple of days except that Rome is hot and lovely. We've done a lot of sightseeing and walking . . . and more walking. And dehydrating. But it's great! I'm having gelato way more often than I should, I'm loving the exercise, and spending time with Jaz has been so good for me. She is simply awesome and she's making some really great decisions that I look up to her for. 

But the bottom line is this: These adventures on this trip have been great, but I feel weird lately. I can't put a name on the feeling; it isn't dread, but it's not excitement or anticipation either. I just feel like change is coming, and since I don't know what kind of change it is going to be, my heart is confused as to whether it should feel happy or nervous. 

Even so, throughout that change, I know that my family is always there for me, and man oh man I am so ready to see them! I'm ready to play guitar and sing with KeeLo, Kelk, and Parles. I'm ready to share a bed with seestor again and stay up all night doing crossword puzzles, helping her pack for BYU, and listening to Michael Bublé. I'm not actually ready to see how much taller Parley has gotten since the last time I saw him, but I am still looking forward to that goofy smile of his. And I can't wait to tease him about girls. I'm ready for Saturn to jump all over me. I won't even get mad if she pees on me. I'm not ready for the allergies to the cats (I just found out that Kelsey's cat, Cinnamon, had 3 kittens a few weeks ago).  I'm ready to eat some of Mama's homemade sourdough bread for the first time in a year and a half. I'm ready to speak horse latin with Mama for hours on end until we're laughing so hard that we cry. I'm ready to see Daddy smile again and hear him sing silly songs. In short, I am more than ready to hug the crazy out of them and remember how glad I am that they're mine for eternity.

Life dream:

To ride through Rome on the back of a scooter.

With a handsome Italian man driving it.

Half-Italian works too.

GELATO.

I'm in Rome!

It's an awesome city, and I'll write about it later, but first I have to tell you of the adventures and misadventures of my last couple of days in Madrid.

Sunday morning we slept in a little bit and got off to a slow start. It has been so nice to be able to do that! We packed up our things and had the hostel owner hold on to them while we went out for a couple of hours. We moseyed over to El Rastro, the market that takes over the whole neighborhood on Sundays. I didn't like it as much as Portobello Road or Camden Town, but it was fun to look at a few things and, again, hear the language everywhere. After that we headed through La Plaza Mayor and La Puerta del Sol to get to our hostel. We picked up our things and began the hour-plus journey (via metro) to church. Since we wanted to go to the market and church and the market was only open from 9 to 3 (and we didn't want to wake up and do church or the market at 9), our best option for fitting both in was to go to the ward that met at 3:05. This turned out to be a great decision, because even though it was so much farther away than the others, the ward building was so adorable. And yellow!

I loved attending church in Spanish. It had the same friendly atmosphere and cheek-kissing as the Portuguese branch I attended in London, except I understand Spanish twenty thousand times better than I understand Portuguese. Plus I understand kissing in any language. 

After Sacrament meeting we spoke with a couple of the ward members, one of whom was a Chilean, from Santiago. I told him about my friend serving in the Rancagua mission and he talked about what a beautiful place it was. He was such a kind old man and invited us to come and see him at his house next time we're in Chile. Good thing I know him so well.

We left church and met back up with Rhiannon at the Prado. The line was really long so we decided not to go in and to find some supper instead. Rhiannon and I went to this restaurant that kept playing Christina Aguilera and Enrique Iglesias songs. We both got soup (I had gazpacho -- so delicious!) and horchata. If I had known it would be the last thing I would eat until the next evening, I might have eaten a little more, but it cooled me down and hit the spot. Then we met up with Jazlyn and Annie in McDonalds, where we sat in the air conditioning and talked for a couple of hours. It was so much fun talking to them and telling embarrassing stories about ourselves even though they now know my deepest darkest secrets about Tratelyn. 

Around 8 PM we left to walk through El Parque Retiro on our way to the airport. I wish I had spent more time in there, because as Rhiannon said, "That park kicks England's parks' butts." I didn't even see very much of it, but it was such a beautiful area and it was perfect for our evening stroll. We saw the statue of Satan, the fallen angel (El Ángel Caído), which we thought was funny for a Sunday. I shook my fist at him for making me sad sometimes. Then we walked over to the Crystal Palace, which was such a beautiful area! I wouldn't be offended if someone wanted to propose marriage to me there. 

We exited the park and went to the metro station to get back to the airport, our home for the night. We got there around 11 or 11:30, picked up our luggage (by the way, leaving half of my stuff there was the best decision I've ever made) and finally found a spot to spend the night. I wasn't very hungry, but I was dying of thirst so I bought a bottle of water. Then we blockaded ourselves in with luggage trolleys and slept behind a citibank counter. I didn't sleep very soundly, but I was surprisingly comfortable considering I pretty much slept on concrete. I wore my sweatpants under my skirt and propped my head up on my bookbag. Awesome. After going to sleep around 1 or 1:30 I woke up every 45 minutes or so and had to re-situate myself because I had at least one numb limb, but I did sleep. I hadn't thought I would be able to at all. The last time I woke up was around 4:30 when two ladies were talking to Jazlyn and telling her (in Italian) to wake Annie and me up so we wouldn't miss our flight. When I woke up one of the ladies started telling me, "It's 4:30" and making monster eyes at me to encourage me to open my eyes. It was sweet of them, but we weren't even going to be able to check in until 5:15. So whatever. 

When 5:15 came, we checked in, got through security, and sat at our gate until we boarded. I walked around to try and find some food, but the only thing that was open was the duty-free shop with perfumes and expensive candies and such. Any other day I might have wanted candy for breakfast, but I was so out of it and I needed real food. But there wasn't any, so I got on the flight without having breakfast.

Side story: On the way to Spain, Rhiannon said she felt like she had been drugged up. She had some vertigo and weird feelings in her brain. I felt the same way on the way to Rome, I guess from being extra dehydrated and exhausted, so I slept pretty much the whole way. I don't even remember taking off, and the only thing I remember about landing was how everyone cheered and the drunken Spaniard with the raspy voice who sat in front of Rhiannon started going off about something. I really needed to find food. 

But instead, we picked up our luggage, lost Jaz and Annie for a while, and finally found them and got to the train that would take us close enough to our hostel. At this point I actually felt hungry, and I was not in good shape on the train. Kind of thought I was going to die. We got off the train, took a while to find our hostel, and as soon as we paid and got everything taken care of, I collapsed on the bed. I was shaking like crazy, but I knew I wouldn't be able to spend any more time in the sun, even to get food or water, without collapsing in the middle of the road. So I took a shower instead. Best shower of my life. I hadn't showered since Saturday night, you know, and after all that time in the Spanish and Italian sun (and airports), I was stinky, gross, and feeling pretty bad about life. That shower turned everything around! I then took a 4 or 5 hour nap and when I woke up it was DEFINITELY dinner time. Good thing there are pizzerias on every corner, or I would have been sad. The Margherita Pizze was AWESOME. Then we found a gelateria and had our first taste of gelato in Italy. Fabulous. 

We went back to our hostel and chatted with friends and family for a little while until the internet crashed on us again (it gets kind of spotty, but it's free!) and then we watched a movie on my computer. The best part of the night was when, right outside our hostel gate, a man started playing the accordion and singing in Italian. Since then it's happened again, and we've seen the same thing outside several restaurants. 

I LOVE ROMA.

I slept pretty well last night, but woke up on the ornery side of the bed. I was sad that the internet still wasn't working (it crashed in the middle of my conversation with Mama and I miss her!) and my brain was thinking about unhappy things. But then Jaz and I finally went out (Annie and Rhiannon left a little earlier to go to the Vatican) and we saw some really cool things today! We walked to the Colosseum, where we saw some gladiators and stuff. One of them was attractive, but the others were old. Then we walked around the side of Palatino and up toward the Monumento a Vittoria Emanuele II. On the way we walked through the Piazza della Boca della Veritá, where I drank water out of one of the drinking fountains that Bishop Hunt told us about. There were some little girls there who thought it was the coolest thing ever. I thought so too! You put your finger at the end of the spigot so that it comes up out of a hole in the top of it, like a regular water fountain. It's pretty easy to get your whole face wet, though, but it's a nice way to cool down and the water tastes great! I'll put up a picture later. 

Once we got to the monument, we walked up and saw a couple of great views of the city. What a happenin' place! Then we walked to the street where we were told there were a lot of clothing stores, etc. Because we're girls and we like clothes and shoes. But, sadly, we don't like them enough to pay 50 euro or more, because that's one of the lowest prices we saw. Instead of buying clothes, we got lunch near the Pantheon and then went over to the Fontana di Trevi. Such a nice place! I threw a 1 euro cent coin in there, so hopefully my wish comes true.

The thing I like most about Rome so far is this:
We have a sightseeing map, with all the big places to go see, but we're finding out that the things on that map don't even show everything. There are tons of really neat places (the Piazza della Boca della Veritá, for example) that weren't on the map, but we just stumbled upon it. It's a very culturally-rich place. Love it.

Now we're back in our hostel and waiting for it to cool down a bit before heading out again. It was very hot today and I definitely have a watch tan starting to develop. As for the flip flop tan? Bring it on.