Tuesday, November 29, 2011

In lieu of Wednesday


Dear Bekah,

I’m so sorry we didn’t get to have our Wednesday today. Thanksgiving preparation kind of took over, especially since my crazy family likes to eat BEFORE the Dallas game, so we have to be ready for people at 11 am. I don’t actually have any complaints about this usually, but it did mean that instead of calling you I was making pie and dreaming of calling you. So instead I decided to write you a letter, complete with pictures!

For the Perkins/Paulus/Conrad Thanksgiving feast tomorrow I made one pumpkin pie:


And one brown sugar apple pecan pie:


I have never made this one before, and I’m a little concerned about how it will turn out. I used organic brown sugar and it smelled very molasses-y. (I actually can’t stand molasses) But, my mom is very excited, and I had fun making it look pretty. For the first time I used one of my Christmas presents from last year:


I was worried it would be a ridiculous amount of fuss, but it wasn’t bad at all, and I do love the way the leaves look. I don’t think the crust is quite the flaky bit of heavenly perfection it was when we made our together, but it will do.

Here is the rolling pin I was talking about, so smooth and pretty!



As much as I am delighted to be home and jumping straight into Holiday madness, I am also kind of missing you and the little love bird like crazy. But I’m so glad for the awesome visit we got to have! Really, it could not have been more perfect. I have added this little token to the vision board in my room:


Speaking of my room, I have decided to give you a virtual tour of the adjustments I have made to my little “Apartment.” So, when you first walk in the door you see my little sitting area, with couch, chair and makeshift coffee tables. The bed in the corner is usually a little less obtrusive, but it’s currently piled high with things Grandpa Albert decided to drop off with his usual spontaneity and secrecy. 




Next to the sitting area is the office:



Continuing the panorama, this side of the room is the sleeping/dressing area. The closet now has a lovely curtain covering it, which really makes the whole room look so much more finished. I like it lots.



Finally, a brief view of the improvements made to the bathroom. The wallpaper has been stripped, and I painted it a lovely shade, and added the picture Val gave me for Christmas years and years ago, and then my Mom framed for my birthday more recently. Ta da! 




So now it is almost as if you have visited me, too! I mean, obviously not as good, but we do what we can. Love from everyone in my house to everyone in yours. Miss you so bad, can’t wait to talk to you tomorrow!!!

Love,
Nique 






Saturday, October 15, 2011

Sorry, birdies


Sometimes I think mixing my genres is just a really bad idea. It can at least be rather confusing. For example, suppose you read Stargirl and think, wow, that’s a cute idea. I think I’ll leave my hair clippings in a bowl on the sill for little birdies to build their nests out of, too.

But that thought is immediately followed by the knowledge that according to other books/movies/TV shows, your hair can also be used to clone, control, hex, manipulate, spell, protect, track, or communicate with you. Or frame you for murder.

Maybe I’ll burn my hair clippings instead. 

Monday, October 3, 2011

Yellow flowers


Ten years ago today, we lost Clayne in a car crash. Wow. Ten years is a long time. Sometimes I think about what it would be like if he were still here. Sometimes I don’t want to, because it hurts. But sometimes I look around and I can see him everywhere. I can see just what he would be doing, where he would be standing, what he would be thinking.

He would be 16 years old: a junior in high school, a priest, dating and driving age. He would be wearing slim, dark jeans and a t-shirt, and his hair would be doing that thing where it sticks up a little in the front.  He would be tall, and strong, and freckled, with bright blue eyes and a huge, friendly smile just mischievous enough to make the girls a little crazy.

He would go to priesthood session with my dad, and brought all his friends home for ice cream afterwards. He would have gone to youth conference and heard Geneil speak. He would be the only child in the family taller than her. He would love sports. He would play basketball after mutual, football on Thanksgiving, and watch baseball with dad. He might even be on a team at school, but I don’t know which one. I think he would inherit Dad’s competitive spirit.

He would have so many friends. He would be buddies with Carl and Ryan and Cameron. He would miss Matt now that he is away, and be thrilled that Sam moved into the ward. He would wish we lived closer to his cousins, so they could hang together more often. He would get along well with all the girls, and practice flirting with Leslie’s friends. Plenty of them would like him. He might have a crush or two, but I won’t tell you on whom, because that would embarrass him.

He would be smart. School would frustrate him, but he would try hard and have plenty of fun along the way. He would be in the choir with Leslie, definitely singing bass. He would love seminary. He would go to mutual, hike, camp and go on high adventures. He would love to go to the temple and do baptisms. He would be preparing for his mission, and starting to save his money from odd jobs. If you asked him, he would tell you he wants to go to France, just like his Dad. In fact, I think there are a lot of things he would do because he wanted to be just like his Dad.

He would love his Mother. He would tease his sisters, even though most of us are older than he is. He and Leslie would be best friends, and fierce competitors. He would share in her frustration that we are growing up and spreading out, and he would love holidays when the whole family was together again.

And even though he is not here to do all these things with us, I know that he is as happy and busy where he is now as he would be here. We love him, and he loves us, and we’ll all work and grow and be patient till we can be together again. 

Friday, August 12, 2011

GGA


Hello, my name is Dominique, and I’m addicted to retail therapy in the form of gift giving.
I realize that almost anything can be addicting, but this one really took me by surprise. I like getting gifts, always have, and I enjoy giving other people something that made me think of them, or that I know they will appreciate, and this is all very reasonable. But this week, I went on a gift-buying binge.
            Looking back, I see it all started with Father’s Day. I had decided that since I am now a 27-year-old adult, perhaps it’s about time I did that thing where I buy cards for the dads and grandpas in my life, and actually send them. In the mail. On time. Given my customary mode of operating, this was pretty revolutionary.
            Surprisingly enough, that all went of without a hitch. But then it occurred to me that if I could handle father’s day, I should probably give birthdays a try. So I consulted some more informed members of my family, and managed to save everyone’s birthday into the calendar of my fancy phone, with reminders set two days ahead of time so I would have time to do something about them.
            Well, the first birthday was coming up, so I went in search of the perfect birthday card. Do you have any idea how many cards there are in the world? And, of course, you always find the one you want in the last place you look, so on the way to this perfect birthday card I found potential birthday cards, baby cards, miss you cards and thinking of you cards for all sorts of people to whom I would never normally send a card.
It might have ended there, except I also started brainstorming gift ideas for a friend’s birthday. Now, this friend deserves the very best a birthday has to offer, and I had set the gift bar fairly high last year (I hand-made her a pirate flag. Yeah, I know, I’m amazing.) so I was a little worried about keeping up. Long story short, one good idea followed the next, and now I’m fairly certain I could blow my life-savings on this one friend alone (which would be a really bad idea, since I don’t’ really have a full-time job).
Mere days after this, I remembered it was the first birthday of my best friend’s daughter. Once I was at the baby store, I found that I could just as easily spend all my money on her. And then I thought of other close friends I have who either have children currently or are expecting them. I also remembered that this best friend’s birthday is also just around the corner. Then I found out (through facebook of course) that it was this best friend’s mom’s birthday!
Add all this to the fact that my own Mother’s, Granny’s and Sister’s birthdays all occur within the next thirty days, and my head started to spin. It was all I could think about. I was out of control! I was a gift-giving, card-sending, money-spending lunatic! Six presents, five birthday cards, two elaborate party plans and one return later, I ran out of a store practically in tears.
           Maybe I should just stay out of the birthday scene for a while. OH NO! I just checked my calendar, and my other Grandma’s birthday is also this month. AAAAAUGH!

Monday, January 31, 2011

Progress and Goals

I ran five miles last week! One mile every week day. Not very impressive when compared to my cross-country days, but that was a long time ago and I will get there. This is a start. This week I plan on running seven miles: still one every week day, and then I will try to run two miles on Saturday. I think I can, I think I can!

Wednesday, January 26, 2011

I think I'm wearing the wrong shoes

A few months ago I attended a regional Young Single Adult conference. Technically I attended this activity to meet new people and make new friends. It’s not coming easy lately, though, and I just wasn’t feeling it. So I took my brown bag lunch and sat in a sunny spot on the grass with an old friend and amused myself people watching. There was one girl in particular who seemed to have all the boy’s attention. She was thin and blonde and wearing a very nice dress, but what drew my eye were her four-inch, red, peep-toe stilettos. I remarked idly to my companion that evidently we were were wearing the wrong shoes. Perhaps we should have worn our red heels as well.

I went to a few more activities with similar result. I was definitely doing something wrong. Two weeks ago, I attended another YSA activity, this time a fireside in another city. This time I was determined to do better. I vowed I would not leave without talking to as many people as possible. It took me a while to warm up, but with a little help, I managed to introduce myself to nearly everyone in the room. Sitting around with a group of girls, I once again started noticing the shoes. Hot pink and leopard print, high heels and pointy toes.

The next Sunday I found myself at a little house party for a young man who would leave on his mission the next day. It was a warm night so I was wearing sandals with a slight heel. However, when I got there I realized that the party was outside, and the grass was wet. I was wearing the wrong shoes.

Wait, what did I just say?

I am wearing the wrong shoes.

That phrase rung a bell somehow. Had I said that before?

The wrong shoes. The wrong shoes for what?

And, finally, I thought back on all these experiences, put them together and realized that I was, in fact, wearing the wrong shoes! Winters in Idaho and Utah had ruined my perspective. I was back in Southern California now, and I my ratty old boots that kept me so warm and safe up in the ice were just not going to cut it in this scene.

It took me long enough, but don't worry. Now that I have isolated the problem, I know just what to do to fix it.

Thursday, January 20, 2011

Dear Body,

Do you remember when you were the one they had play the whole soccer game, because everyone else needed a break, but you could run forever? Do you remember when these legs could make heads turn, and jaws drop? Do you remember when these legs could run six miles every day and up and down stairs for half an hour? Do you remember when these arms could paddle a canoe for nine miles? Do you remember when these shoulders and this back could execute a flawless backstroke for half a mile? You used to get really down on yourself because you didn’t have the speed. Forget the speed, do you remember the strength? Do you remember the power? The freedom? Do you remember how it felt?

Prove it.

Love, ME