Robbers' marshmallows

I have a friend who inspires me. Well, all of my friends inspire me, but this one in particular has inspired me with an increased passion for learning about anything and everything that I even have the slightest curiosity about. It's gotten to where if I wonder about anything at all I get really nerdy and excited to look it up in an encyclopedia or read about it online. It's almost always something little, but I love it. It's fun to have answers about little things I've always wondered about.

Recently my curiosity was piqued by a memory from my childhood. When my cousins came over, we liked to play Cops and Robbers in my backyard. The police station was over by the patio and the robbers' hideout was a little opening in the trees where the lowest branches made something like a little cave. Inside this tree cave, there was an abundance of this plant:

Kinda pretty, right? The seed pods, however, were our favorite part.

Every time we went to the robbers' hideout, we'd "roast marshmallows," which just meant we'd make a pile of sticks, break the seed pods off the plant,  and hold them over the "fire" while we sat and didn't say anything. The twiggy stems were perfect marshmallow-roasting sticks.

Every now and then, I've thought about those "marshmallows" and wondered what exactly they were. As it turns out, a 10 minute internet search supplied me with the pictures and a description of the plant. Because of its transluscent pods, through which you can see all its seeds, the plant is called "honesty." I thought that was pretty ironic, considering it was in the robbers' hideout. As it turns out, though, another name for it is the "money plant" or the "silver dollar plant." We were a lot richer than we thought, I guess. I just can't believe we ripped up and "burned" our money!

My parents don't live in that house anymore, but I don't remember seeing that plant in the back yard for a long time. I guess we killed honesty.

"Go on, feel it. I made dem."

My first crochet project!

And here's a special shout-out to Kathryn, who provided the beads--she made them for girls' camp and gave them to me, probably seven or eight years ago. (?!?) Call me a pack rat, but I'm just really glad to have finally found a good use for them.

If you're interested in making your own, I basically followed this pattern. I have a feeling I'm going to be making a lot more of these, and in so many colors. I'm in love.

Revised reading list and quick update

Hey readers! I've neglected my blog for a while so I have a ton of catching up to do. First of all, I've changed my mind about the 22 by 22. I am still going to read as many books as I can, but I am changing some of them on the list from popular reads to some of my ancestors' journals. A good friend of mine has been doing a lot of reading lately about his family history, and he has inspired me. So instead of Don Quixote, Under the Tuscan Sun, and Memoirs of a Geisha, I'll read the journals of Jesse Nathaniel Smith (my 7th (?) great-grandfather on my mom's side), Elias Smith (my 6th great-grandfather on my dad's side--and yes, he and Jesse N. are cousins), and Sadie Hulet Avery (my great grandma on my mom's side). I am really excited to get to know a little more about my heritage and the strong people who came before me.

So here's the revised list. I really haven't gotten very far at all. Don't make fun; employment and friends just take all my time.

And remember, I love color coding, so here's the code: 

Currently reading

Finished

Next on the list 

1. A Tree Grows in Brooklyn by Betty Smith (528 pages)

2. Three Cups of Tea by Greg Mortenson (349 pages)

3. Peter Pan by J.M. Barrie (200 pages)
4. Out of Africa by Isak Dinesen (~400 pages)
5. Those Who Save Us by Jenna Blum (496 pages)
6. Led by Faith by Imaculee Ilibagiza (264 pages)

7. The Kite Runner by Khaled Hosseini (400 pages)

8. The Screwtape Letters by C.S. Lewis (160 pages)
9. Mere Christianity by C.S. Lewis (227 pages)
10. The Great Divorce** by C.S. Lewis (144 pages)
11. The Secret Life of Bees by Sue Monk Kidd (302 pages)
12. Peace Like a River by Leif Enger (320 pages)
13. Journal of Elias Smith
14. Journal of Jesse Nathaniel Smith
15. Journal of Sadie Hulet Avery
16. The Joy Luck Club by Amy Tan (288 pages)
17. The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy by Douglas Adams (208 pages)
18. Life of Pi by Yann Martel (326 pages)
19. The House on Mango Street by Sandra Cisneros (110 pages)
20. The Boy in the Striped Pajamas by John Boyne (244 pages)
21. Yo-Yo Boing!* by Giannina Braschi (256 pages)
22. The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao* by Junot Diaz (339 pages)

**I found a dirt-cheap copy of this book in Spanish, so I'll actually be reading El Gran Divorico.

In other news, life is fantastic. I absolutely love my job. Even though I'm going to have the exact same schedule for the next year, the routine is not difficult or boring because everything I do is so much fun. Lately I've started being able to really get creative and write lesson plans, and that's probably my favorite thing about the job so far. Whenever I'm not busy with that, I'm spending a lot of time with some amazing friends. The Lord has really blessed me with more than I deserve. 

My parents came to town a couple of weeks ago before the family reunion that I wasn't able to go to, so it was really great to spend time with them. They joined our dinner group one night and Daddy's one-wire provided plenty of entertainment for one of my friends. (If you don't know what one-wire is, ask me and I'll tell you a couple of great stories.) We also went up to Idaho to see Uncle Glade and his family. All I can say is that I'm pretty sure his son Jared and I have some sort of mental and emotional bond. We're pretty much the same person. I love that kid (and everyone in that family) so much!

Now I've started to become a domestic goddess. I started crocheting over the weekend, and I've already made one crappy slipper and half of a really good one. (I'll post pictures once I get them finished.) I'm also buying a sewing machine this weekend and I can't wait to get started on some cool projects like making cute dresses for 6 dollars and stuff. 

This is all for now since I want to finish the slipper before I go to bed tonight, but just to get you excited, I'll tell you what you can expect in the near future:

Reflections on grocery shopping with Mama

Robbers' marshmallows

The Life and Times of Ronaldiago Weasley Cox-Gentry

At least 3 more friendlove posts

A buttload of pictures

See you soon!

Lower-ks. It's like "lowercase," get it?

I've noticed something about myself recently. Let me tell you a story. It's called "I like 'k' better than 'K.'" It goes like this:

I really like the lowercase version of the first letter of my name better than I like the capital version. Don't you think it looks cooler? Here they are side by side for comparison:

k K

Maybe it's a reflection of my desire to be a part of the crowd rather than standing out too much. Maybe it's reminiscent of my younger years, when writing in either ALL CAPS, Small Caps, or no caps was a manifestation of creativity in handwriting. Or maybe it's just the asymmetry that is so appealing to me. Whatever it is, it creates kind of a funny dilemma. See, since I just think the lowercase looks so much nicer, I enjoy typing it that way, especially when signing my name at the end of emails. It usually looks something like this:

--katelyn

(And, for comparison's sake again)

--Katelyn

I just like it. I think it looks nice and polished. I think it's how the top right stem of the "k" is the same height as the "a." Whatever.

Here's the problem, though. It's called "I am a college graduate now and I kinda sorta have a real person job." I often find myself wondering if it sends a weird message about me when I sign my emails with a lowercase k. I use great (if not perfect) capitalization and punctuation within the body of my emails; I just can't not do it anymore. I sometimes try, but my guilty conscience gets the best of me and I inevitably edit it before I send it. It's the signing, though, that puts me in a fit.

Now, with personal emails, it's no big deal. I sign those with all lowercase all the time. It's like saying to someone, "I can be myself around you. I don't feel the need to be perfect. I trust you not to judge me for not capitalizing my name." But for work emails, I always face this dilemma: do I follow my heart and stay true to my true preferences, or do I grit my teeth and follow the conventions that I am so dogged to keep 99.9 percent of the time anyway? It's not that I worry too much that my coworkers will think I'm stupid, but rather that it might send a message of carelessness when, in fact, I lowercase with all the care in the world. Lowercasing my name has become part of who I am.

The real difficulty comes when I have crossed the lowercasing line once, even if by accident. I did this a couple of days ago when I signed a work email (nothing too crazy, just a quick check-in with one of my supervisors) with all lowercase letters. Like I said, it's part of who I am and I think it looks good. I don't think I even realized I had done it until she replied and I saw my original email signed by "--katelyn." The next time I email her, what am I going to do?! If I capitalize my "k" after that incident, I'll feel like a sell-out. Like, "Oh, I was going to follow my heart and be myself but then I got scared of what you might think." Plus, in my mind (I'm pretty sure I'm the only one who thinks this), it would emphasize the fact that my name was lowercase the first time, thus suggesting that the signature on the original email was a careless or lazy mistake on my part.

However, if I keep it lowercase, it's like I'm reassuring the recipient that I know what I'm doing when I write my lowercase "k." I do it on purpose, and she does not need to doubt my competence. Or maybe it will just make her doubt it even more, as that would make multiple emails in which I didn't capitalize my own name.

I know this is all very silly and I probably sound like I'm being overly dramatic about this. (I mean, really, is there anybody out there over the age of 16 who has ever had a thought process this ridiculous?) But this is real life for me, folks. I face this every time I write an email. Having written about it in detail, though, I'm feeling like I should just lowercase my name all the time, except for in my handwritten signatures (because I really like my capital cursive "k") and in really important things like job application emails, etc. But once I've been hired or maybe just shared this post and/or my rationalizations for non-capitalization of my name, they can expect a valiant effort if not near-perfection in everything I do except writing K at the beginning of my name.

The end.

Love,

katelyn

Daddy!

In honor of Fathers' Day, I wanted to write down a few quotations from my daddy that demonstrate some of the important life lessons he's taught me.

Daddy has always taught me about good hygiene. On several occasions when I've told him I'm going to shower because I smell bad, he has said, "When you finally smell yourself, you know that everyone else started to smell you three days ago." (This might explain why every time I walk in the door and say, "Hi, Popsy," he responds with "Hey, poopsie.")

Daddy always encouraged me to find out who I am and be proud of it. This is exemplified by his song that pretty much just goes, "I'm a blue jean man. Whomp. Whomp." He always comforted me through the times I was trying to figure out who I am and how to love myself. He told me, "They always say Mormons are peculiar, but you've got it extra bad because you're Gentry. And you've got an extra dose of weirdness because you're the Geoffrey brand of Gentry. Sorry." I know now that that is so true, but I can't help but be excited for when I fall in mutual weirdness with someone who appreciates my Gentryness.

Anyone who has been close to me recently knows that my favorite piece of advice is "follow your heart." This can be partially attributed to the way Daddy sings songs that he doesn't know the words to. Somehow, he always works in the phrase "Oh, my heart." Daddy knows the heart is where it's at.

It's also because of Daddy that I have a weird sense of humor, cowlicks, and Shuler legs, but we'll forgive him for that. 

On a more serious note, Daddy has always been there to give me advice when I've been going through difficult times. He's taught me about my Savior and the power in the Atonement and the strength that comes through prayer. After one heartbreak in particular, he told me that "rejection isn't failure; it's feedback. Learn from it." I have learned many things working from this philosophy. Anytime I feel like I have been rejected or like I need to improve, I remember these words and try to move forward with faith. I will never forget the wisdom in those words. 

One of the most important things Daddy has taught me is that happiness is a choice. He once told me, "When things get hard remember that no matter where you are, you're only a few minutes away from laughter." Daddy has chosen to be happy and smile through so many trials in his life. That is a lifestyle and attitude that I hope I can adopt as successfully as he has. I love him so much and I'm glad he's my poppy!