Hey Friends...it's been awhile and it may be a while longer until I sit down to really write something but I thought I'd add a quick update on the more important moments in my life at this time.

One) I am still looking for work...I got a job at Sears but requires me to stand for 5-6 hours at a time and I need a desk job b/c

Two) I hurt my knee on Thursday July 13th during a soccer game and it's still bothering me...bothering me so much that I went to a doctor. Ends up I tore my ACL and now I have to wear a brace until my surgery...yes, I said surgery. Uck. I don't want to. They'll use my hamstring to reconstruct my ligament but it's alright cause
Three) I get to go home tomorrow to see my family and relax and be happy before the surgery and school starts and work and everything else. We are going to Myrtle Beach and brace or no brace I am swimming in the ocean in three days time. And then we are off to Charleston for a Saturday. What fun.

So, that's my life right now. We'll see where it goes from here.

Oh life…what an experience. There are so many complexities to deal with when: balancing school, work, church, friends, lovers, brothers, sisters, parents, groceries, sleeping, sickness, wellness, exercise, neighbors, visiting, homework, finances, entertainment, bathing, dreaming…
Good thing I don’t have to deal with most of that. No school. No work. A few friends, one brother, no lover and a church calling is about all I have to handle. Not too much to occupy my day with. Of course there is still sleeping, eating, and bathing…but with no schedule to hold to, even those things become random watery moments within the day…not worth mentioning or remembering. Yeah, good thing life is so easy…nothing to order or remember or worry about doing. Endless summer vacation, it’s every young person’s dream, right?

. . .

I think I’m going insane. Ack. I need a life. I need a job. I want to work. And I need something to occupy my thoughts. My dreams are bothering me more and more. I decided today that these incessant dreams about this certain guy (that I mentioned in my previous blogging) is merely my attempt to make life more complicated, exciting, and uneasy…I need that, I think. Since I messed my knee up two weeks ago, I can no longer run or play sports. I cannot exercise beyond stretching and icing my knee. I’ve found myself with no way to get out the pent up emotion and energy within myself. I am not in school this summer. I am looking for work but since my last job fell through, so has every other opportunity. It’s an interesting place to be right now. I am not sad…a little bored, sometimes frustrated, and often unsatisfied…but I’m not depressed. I went through that. That bummed out period when I was unsure how to proceed and what was worth waking up for each day. Now, I’ve found things to do. I read books. I put puzzles together. I try to do genealogy. I put a lot into my church calling. I have long conversations with people. My life is okay…not as exciting or as complex as I would desire, but it’s a life. Now if only I could rid myself of these obnoxious dreams.

It is not unusual for me to dream about people I know. Yet, dreaming about the same person night after night after night is beginning to freak me out a little bit. Haha, I get mad at him sometimes for bothering me so much. Then I have to remind myself that he has no idea that he spends so many nightly hours with me. We play sports together. We go on trips. We live life and laugh and cry and get angry and makeup. It’s a pretty full complex life…and it’s all a dream. Dreams that have been continuing for almost two weeks straight now. Nuts. Right. Completely strange. Well…I don’t know what it’s all about, but I do know that no matter what happens in my waking life…at night…I have to deal with all the complexities of school, work, church, friends, family, sports, exercise, love and hate, tears and joyful smiles…it’s all there. My life may be dragging along in a lethargic attempt but my mind is as sharp as ever and He is a large part of that.

So, my last blog brought about some discussion between my roommates and other select friends of mine about my 'flirting' ability. Apparently, I'm just not that great in that department. Another friend of mine told me, recently, that he "had never been around [me] when [I've] been around someone [I] like...therefore, [he had] no idea how [I] flirt." What a blow this statement was. The truth of the matter is that his roommate has been an interest of mine for quite some time. Talk about a reality check. He basically said, 'You have no flirting skills what so ever!' And except in my own subtle ways, he's right.

Well, now the question is...what do I do about this. I've asked around but I tend to get the same old responses from everyone.
"How can I flirt, tell me, teach me...I implore you!"
So far, no one has told me anything that is of use. "Be more flirty," they say...but they never say how. Guys respond, "You're the girl, not me, shouldn't you know how to be flirty...I never know what a girl is doing anyways." And girls say, "Be yourself...wait for the right guy." Nice but not helpful. And a few others give me the usual, "Be more touchy, single him out, smile and make eye contact." Check, check, and check....next please.

Granted I can not do anything that is not in my nature to do...I don't want to be someone I'm not, but I will however do more and step outside my comfort zone if and when someone gives me some actual advice that is noteworthy.
Noteworthy advice...
Any takers?

This is going to make me sound like such a stupid girl…
But honestly, it’s really bothering me.
I keep dreaming about this guy. I really would rather not dream about him. Sometimes he’s kind to me in the dreams; once he kissed me. I woke up feeling so great. Then once he kissed another girl (a good friend of mine) right in front of me. Sometimes he blows me off in the dreams. Then I wake up feeling disturbed or sad. I do not like this. I don’t know why this particular guy is popping up in my dreams nearly every night or why it should affect my emotions so much one way or the other. I seem to have no control. I don’t like being out of control. I can’t figure out how to stop dreaming about him. If I think about him during the day, I dream about him. If I don’t think about him during the day, I still dream about him. I think the worst is waking up with the depressing feeling of rejection when nothing has really happened. It was just a dream! Why do I feel sick to my stomach about it?! Of course, the disturbing dreams are worse, but I do not long for the good ones either. It goes back to being out of control. Just as I don’t like waking up feeling gloomy…I don’t particularly like the fact that I wake up feeling elated as well because I know it doesn’t really mean anything. Why am I happy? It was just a dream. And then I get upset with myself for having yet another dream about this man. Why is my mind torturing me with such nightly visions of him? Why does he trigger such emotion, good or bad, that seems to stick with me through out my day? I can’t seem to shake this thing. How frustrating!

I want you to imagine that you’re wearing a delightful off-white flirty skirt (okay if you’re a guy that’s a bit of a stretch so just imagine your favorite pair of khakis or something) and you’re feeling pretty good about yourself as you stroll down the supermarket isle. You grab an IZZE…the more nutritious and delectable choice over the common soda to go with your lunch (70% fruit juice, 30% sparkling water, no sugars added, cute glass bottle…). You head to the ten items or less lane to purchase your 99 cent beverage, and as you approach, happy and unaware of any possible dangers, your foot begins to slip ever so slightly out from beneath you. (My guess is the ice cream cooler beside the checkout stand is leaking a bit and a small puddle of water has formed which ever so small is more than a match for your traction-less flip-flop.) As you begin to slip you reach out with your left hand to grab the counter at which time you loose control of your drink of choice, which in an almost slow motion effect, slips from your finger tips and goes crashing to the floor. I think your first thought (after the initial shock, of course) would be one of remorse, embarrassment, and “oops…did I do that”.

Now at this point, I imagine a store clerk would run over to offer assistance…another would probably just stare in disbelief and then ask you if you ‘slipped?’ (Thank you Captain Obvious!) The preliminary shock beginning to wear off, you would then look down to see a puddle of brazing purple red pomegranate juice encircling your feet. You would begin to feel the sticky mess dripping down your knees. Gripping the edge of the counter you would (still not thinking terribly clear) step back to move out of the way of the huge mop heading your direction. In doing so you suddenly notice with some apprehension all the glass about your feet, and then with more alarm you feel the crunch of glass and the tiny sliver pricks in the sole of your foot. Your flip-flop is filled with minute bits of glass, and you are backing up right on top of them! Stop! You pull your sticky dripping glass covered flip-flop off of you foot and dangle it over a paper bag that a store clerk is carefully shoving shards of broken bottle into and shake the glass ever so forcefully from your shoe.

Now thinking more clearly (probably because of the pain of glass in your foot), you take this moment to exam the situation. You are standing on one foot, holding a flip-flop in your right hand and the counter top in your left. A store clerk is at your feet with a paper bag filled now with glass. Another clerk is trying to tear open a paper towel roll as the first clerk assures her that the store will pay for the paper towels if she opens them. Farther away a bagger is still filling bags of groceries while yelling out, “Did you slip?” “Are you okay?” “Did you cut your foot?” “Is that blood?” “We have tweezers if you want to pull the glass out of your foot!” “I don’t understand…did she slip?” “Did she cut her foot?” “Do you want another drink?”

Will she ever be silent, you wonder. Now the whole store is watching. What a fiasco. You decline the tweezers or another drink. You tell them that you just want to pay for what you have and go home. I would imagine, at that point, you would pay your bill, hobble out of the store, and try and decide what has upset you more…the sticky blood and juice mixture drying to your legs and feet or the fact that your favorite flouncy flirty skirt is now tie-dyed! I mean…that’s what I think you would be thinking. It’s not like I’m speaking from experience or anything. I mean I’m just hypothesizing, right. Just a little ol’ funny – made up story…haha…right…ha… umm … ha.
yeah…

This morning I did something that I haven’t done in quite sometime…
I watched the sun rise.

I’m not really sure why I did it. I don’t really know if I even expected it. And I’m still not sure why I was awake. But at approximately 7:25am Mountain Standard Time, I took a class of “homestyle” orange juice, my fuzzy blue slippers, and an oversized BYU hoodie, and I stood outside on my three-step stone stoop in front of my apartment. I just stood there. I don’t know why. I wasn’t looking at anything in particular. I just sipped my orange juice and I stood there watching nothing and everything at the same time.

Then it happened…
the sun peeped over Y Mountain just a little.

The seemingly sudden moment of light caught my attention and for a full three minutes between 7:35 and 7:38 I watched. I watched as the sliver of light turned gradually into a shining ball of glorious radiance. I saw it actually move up from behind the mountain or the mountain moved down to expose the light, which way I’m not sure, but I saw and felt the movement. And as the glory of the sun revealed itself, or was revealed, I found myself beginning to grin. It happened as slowly and as progressively as the sun appeared…bigger and wider and broader until I felt the pinch in my cheeks; I continued to stare. By 7:40 the sun was so bright that I could no longer stare directly at it, and the cool morning air was beginning to dissipate as I felt the warmth seeping through my pajama pants. My orange juice nearly gone, my body warmed in the glow of the morning light, and a strange sense of happiness and wellbeing having filled my mind, I turned and walked back into my apartment.

Five minutes…it only took five minutes…
and life looked happy again.

Small, Medium, or Large

So…I got turned down for another job today. I’m trying to be optimistic about everything but rejection in any form hurts. The rejection wasn’t unfamiliar to me either. It pretty much was the same, right down to the wording and phrasing, of my last couple rejections. Boy, it’s all getting old very quick.

This time it was, “You're a great artist, but we’re looking for someone with a little more graphic design experience." I’ve heard this many times before…quite a few times in the last year. It always begins with, ‘Your artistry is incredible BUT…’ And ends with the basic, ‘We want someone in this or that field…sorry, not yours.’

What it comes down to is that I am a ceramics major. I chose this direction not out of longing to make money but out of a compelling desire to create. Have I chosen wrong? Now I’m faced with that evil and tiresome word…money. I have none, I need some, and I must find someone willing to exchange some form of labor for some crusty wrinkled greenbacks that will inexorably increase the design of my life.

But what can be done? It does not seem to matter how qualified I am for a position, how hard I will work, or what I can show to ascertain and prove my ability to do one heck of a job…because when it comes down to it, there will always be someone else applying for the position that has picked that right major. There are no random job openings for ceramicists so I must look elsewhere, yet, every time I apply for any other art position I get turned down because it's not my field of expertise.

. . .

Maybe I shall join my roommate, sooner rather than later, in scooping ice cream. I mean, that would be fulfilling, right? Shoveling multi-flavored creations into sugar cones and paper bowls just to watch giggly teenagers on first dates and tired mothers appeasing their young ones in exchange for those tired craggy pieces of paper with faces of dead presidents on them that will inevitably increase the subsistence of my life. It would be worth it...right.

For some reason, I just don't think so.

But lets face fact, at some point I may have to stop making decisions about glaze colors: will that be copper magnesium, gerstley borate, or nepheline syenite and think, rather, in terms of, “Yes sir, will that be a small, medium, or large?”

Oh the good ol’ South, my homeland…yes, the land of my birth, is a cornucopia of natural beauty. It was such a delight being home. The weather was terrifically warm and the skies were blue. Daffodils (my favorite flower) were in bloom and my Weeping Willow (my favorite tree) was blowing delicately in the gentle breeze. I say it was a delight being home but a better clarification would be that it was good being in my parents’ home. I have not lived in South Carolina since the summer of 2000. I often go ‘home’ to visit though things feel strangely more foreign with each passing year. My parents’ home, though, will always be familiar…always my home, or at the very least, my home away from home.

The purpose of my trip to South Carolina this time around, however, was not to enjoy the inherent familiarity of home but rather to attend my best friend, Wilbur’s, wedding in Charleston, SC. The wedding was a splendid affair. Everyone was so happy, guest included, and “Amens” were abundant.

Wil was crying before the wedding even began and he had a perma smile etched across his face. After the ceremony we had to leave the chapel and head to the air force base. On the way there I ran into a freak thunderstorm with hail that lasted about 20-30 minutes. It took me forever to find the reception hall with important roads being blocked off for the air show that day and thewaterfall of rain that was beating down on the windshield making it impossible to see much of anything. Eventually I made it to the reception hall. A little wet, and a little tired, but ever so happy to be there and ready to party.

The wedding was not the only thrill of my weekend. Charleston, itself, is filled with many beautiful splendors. My friend Caroline and I toured South Charleston. We took a carriage ride with a horse named Wade, more lovingly known as Swede Wade.

The carriage driver gave us a brief history of the town and pointed out interesting old buildings from the early 1800’s. Caroline and I also toured the Black Market a.k.a. Slave Market which was where the slaves used to do the shopping. Booths run by locals now fill the market with homemade crafts and goodies to lure in tourist and get them to part with their cash. I got into the spirit and bought a cheap postcard, a sweet grass cross with flower, and some very delicious pralines for my mother.

If you head south/east down Market Street you’ll eventually leave the booths behind and run into the harbor where the boats dump their fish, the cruise liners dumps their guests, and tourist dumped their bodies on the benches lining the boardwalk. Caroline and I did just that.

While we were resting three
little boys came along and tried
to get us to give them two
dollars for some roses they were
making out of sweet grass. We
declined and then one little boy
asked if we’d give him two
bucks to do a back flip off the
table. We asked him not to…the
whole visual image of him
splitting his head open on the
concrete came to mind. He did
it anyway. There was no
splitting. The kids then spotted
my camera and wanted to take
pictures with us. So, we came
home with three interesting
shots in the end.

It was such a beautiful day out on the boardwalk that I never wantedto leave. The wind was blowing off the ocean and the air smelled salty. I liked that. Caroline and I were in somewhat of a silly mood so we began taking pictures of ourselves being blown over by the gusty wind.

It tickles me even now to think of that day. (Especially right now when it is snowing outside my Utah apt. window.) But that weekend in Charleston was so much fun. I learned a good many things that day as well, such as, apparently The South Was Right…
Being a SNOB was a good thing in the 1800’s, because it means that you are living Slightly North Of Broad street…not to mention living South Of Broad street (SOB) was also a good location seeing as how it was windier, and they thought the wind would keep the mosquitoes away. Hmm…
And we learned that, as we deemed it, the world’s largest rose blooms on Rutledge street…
All in all a deliciously perfect weekend topped off with visits to the art museums up in D.C. before heading back to Utah. But, I will say, it is nice not to be living out of a suitcase any longer...five nights in five different beds, not my particular favorite. It's good to be home. :)

Something You Should All Try

this week

I just spent the most delightful weekend down in Charleston, South Carolina where I attended the wedding of my dearest friend Wilbur, of which, I will relate all the details and attach pictures in the very near future for your pure enjoyment.

At the moment though, I am sitting at Caroline's kitchen table in Maryland trying to figure out how to catch the metro from DC to someplace to catch a bus to BWI airport so that I may fly home to Utah (where no one is planning on picking me up from the airport as of yet)---it is all very confusing.

I thought however that this blog needed to be updated to some small degree...so, therefore, until I am able to sit down and write a proper blog entry this one will have to do. I only have one request at the moment. It has to do with my upcoming birthday. (no surprises here...one track mind).

As I was thinking of exciting, fun, delightful activities to celebrate my birthday this year I realized that I have been focusing a lot upon what I could do for myself, and I realized that all I really wanted to do was make others happy---that would make me happy---and I think make this birthday one to remember. I have been trying over the past couple days to do small acts of service and kindness for others. I've been trying to make people smile and surprise them. I wanted to accomplish 24 deeds by the day of my birthday. It has been going quite well, I do think. Until this blog no one has known that this has been my intention which has made it easy to delightfully surprise others. I am however writing this now to ask anyone that is reading this to participate in this exercise. In honor of my 24th birthday, I ask that each of you get out and do something(s) for others to help, please, and make happy. You have from the moment you read this till April 16th (aka Easter Sunday). And of course, if you have any particular interesting experiences I would love to hear about them.

So, step outside yourself...look at others...see what they need...give them a compliment, a ride, a present, a smile...make others happy. I promise you'll have the most fun doing this! What better birthday present can there be than to know that others lives have been touched...what better way to celebrate the Easter holidays and the atonement of our Savior and Lord.

So...all morning my brother has been annoying me by constantly holding up his fingers in the what I thought was a peace sign and then the number one. It took me some time to figure out why he was doing this. (And he thought that was hilarious.) Later he wrote a big 21 on a piece of paper that he had a friend hold up during class so that I could see it. That silly kid.

On top of that, when I came home today I found a little note on my door from another guy friend of mine in the ward that said something along the lines of happy 21 days till. That was fun to receive. Who knew this countdown would be such a success?

For anyone that may have forgotten,
it's 21 days till my birthday!...just so you know.

I did a little baby sitting last night. During the course of the evening, with all the games and feedings and pink princess pajamas, I came to an interesting conclusion. That conclusion would be: I love nine month old babies.

There were two: a nine month old and a two year old that will be three this July. They were my best friend’s sister’s children. I found that through out the evening that I loved the attention I got from the curious nine month old. She was a handful, always trying to eat everything, and she had a magnetic pull towards anything made of paper that she could destroy. She wanted to climb and crawl on everything, and you could see that she is anxious to walk. While my friend ran around and played hide and seek with the two year old, I was content to sit and hold the other little one. She made the cutest little grins with only two small teeth on the bottom. Her tongue seemed to be always in action, and she must have drooled on nearly everything in the apartment. She was so adorable.

The experience reminded me of the time I spent this past Christmas up in Wisconsin with my friend, her husband, and her baby. I believe her child was also nine months old and quite the pleasure. Maybe I’m just generalizing as I only have two cases to work from at the moment, but I dare say my favorite is a nine month old. They are still babies, cute and lightweight. Yet, they have their own personalities, they grin at everything, crawl and climb and explore. You can see them learning and wanting to learn. It was all so incredible to behold. Everything is new. Everything is splendid. Not a bad way to behold the world around you. At nine months no one is yet jaded. Oh the wonderful gift, to see life like a little child.

p.s. 24 more days till my birthday!!!...just so you know:)

I went to a wedding reception for a dear friend of mine last Saturday night. It was a hour and half drive through nasty slushy rain but completely worth it. The bride was beautiful, and might I add, they had the best most delicious chocolate and peperment cookies I have ever tasted. In the above shot there are nine of us posing for one last picture before the bride and groom depart. (And if you care to count, guest number nine is hiding and peaking through next to the bride's left sholder.)

In this picture (above) one of my friends is in the middle of a hand fisted, arm pulling back - elbow jab, mouth open, very enthused "YES!"...as she had just caught the bouquet! This is probably one of my favorite shots of the night. My friends look so terribly happy.
As for myself, I did not join my friends to catch the bouquet as I opted out to take pictures. I've been to numerous weddings and have collected a few bouquets already. As of yet they have not worked their magic so I am content to keep the ones I have.

Below are a couple of small group shots. I call them: 'Enjoying the bouquet with Friends' and...

'Enjoying the delicious chocolate peperment cookies with Friends'. Mmmm.

What a delightful evening it was.

So...I absolutely love St. Patrick's Day! I am of course wearing a green shirt and blasting out my favorite irish tunes. No one can complain. Not today.
I am most looking forward to teaching my art class today. I think the children will be terribly funny. I've got a little St. Patty's Day game prepared for them. What fun we will have.
Anyways, I just wanted to wish each and every one of you a splendid St. Patrick's Day! Hope you didn't get pinched :)

(p.s. 30 more days till my birthday...just so you know.)

I'm just letting you all know that it is now
one month
till my birthday!
Let the count down begin. :)

(And I'm still looking for ideas for my birthday bash this year, please leave a suggestion if you've got one.)

Some things I forgot:
While cleaning out some old forgotten school notebooks from my sophmore year, I came across a couple pages of quotes. Apparently I used to write down quotes I liked quite often (though I had forgotten that I had ever done this). Here is a particular quote that seems relevant to my life as I'm sure to many others. My notation say it's from a movie called "Shadow Lands" (which I don't remember watching) by C.S. Lewis:

"Now I have no answers...but this I know,"
"I was given the choice twice in life: As a boy I chose safety; as a man I chose suffering..."
"pain is part of the happiness,
...that is the deal."

I sort of wish I could remember the movie or more of the context from which this quote was taken, but I do love the feeling I still receive from it. It seems to me to be about a choice...chooseing between those things which are safe and easy and those which may seem more difficult and even be more painful yet may and can give us, in the end, the fullest reward of true happiness.

Twenty - 24 - Four

Amazing! Probably my all time favorite.

And I’m not talking about the sitcom on tv…I am talking about my age. Well, My soon to be age.

My birthday is coming up on April 16^th and if you know me at all, you know how much I dearly enjoy birthdays. And not just my own, if you want a big to do done with you then give me call and let me start planning.

Now back to the number 24. For some reason, unbeknown to me this particular birthday has carried with it a certain fantastical delight promising fulfillment ever since my early childhood years. I always saw 24 as my golden birthday; the birthday when all would happen. The birthday to look forward to, the birthday to remember...

Yet, I fear as it roles nearer that there is nothing in my life so remarkable as to make this birthday anymore memorable than the past birthdays have been. However, I still feel a sense of excitement…that this is it! What it is, I have no idea what so ever, but it is exciting.

I was discussing this idea briefly with a friend of mine, and he suggested (I’m sure just on a whim.) that I go hot air ballooning for my birthday. This idea for some reason has been stuck in my head this last week and half, and as silly as it may sound, I actually got online last night to look at balloon rides. The idea, in reality, is very thrilling. I can only imagine how splendid the scenery would be. Soaring high above the ground with the wind and beauty it would be like taking a walk through the heavens. It actually reminds me of a song by the group Celtic Woman called “Walking in the Air” which if you have not heard you should take a listen to some time.

Now back to my point, I found while researching balloons rides that they generally cost $175 a person per hour which is entirely out of my price range. I found one website that boasted $164 a person, yet that too seems a little steep to me. So, unless I have some rich benefactor or someone has a wad of doe burning a hole in their pocket that they are just dying to spend on a hot air balloon ride with me; I am sad to say that it appears that ballooning will not be the splendor that will mark my 24^th birthday.

So…what to do? I throw that question out there to you all. Please send me your most fun, wildest, but realistically cheap ideas that could make this birthday one to remember. I’m excited to hear what you all would do to celebrate. YAY for 24!!!

I received a wedding invitation today from one of my all time closest friends. He and I met back in middle school and have been the best of friends since high school. He is getting married this April. I would give anything to go to his wedding. He used to say that he would never get married…I used to tell him that was impossible; he had to much love to give. I remember that he loved to discuss music, his passion, and we used to have the most interesting religious discussions. We were of different faiths, but I never felt so respected. He is getting married on the 8^th of April. I’ve been looking at plane tickets but they are far out of my price range at the moment. I like to pretend...make plans that I am actually going.

They’re wedding is taking place in Charleston, South Carolina. If I had to choose one place to spend a weekend in South Carolina, it would be Charleston. It is a wonderful place, full of art and beauty and culture. It is on the coast and there is a street known as Rainbow Row where all the houses are painted in different colors. You can take a carriage ride past rainbow row for a small fee. It also has the most delightful black market. Given its name because slaves were auctioned off there, it now houses the goods produced by a culture once enslaved. You can watch the making of and buy handmade sweet grass baskets at inordinately high prices. Booths line the streets with handmade crafts, necklaces and rings, rock candy in all different colors and sizes, the most delicious fudge you’ve ever tasted, crystals and pet rocks, clothes, toys, a potpourri of tourist mingling about looking for the best deal and feeling like somehow they are taking away a bit of culture with them. Along the coast you can visit the old battlements. In the city there is great dining and museums and music. Every summer they hold ‘Spoleto’ which is a week long artistic assemblage. I went to my first Opera down at Spoleto. There are jazz concerts and bluegrass, a field full of paintings, ballets and concerts. Show after show…street venders selling their craft…A truly magnificent experience for the artistically minded and culturally curious.

Of course this all comes from the memories of happy past experiences and could be distorted in fact, but oh how I long to go to Charleston again. But mostly I long to attend my friend’s wedding. He will be there making one of the most important vows of his life, and I want to celebrate with him. My other best friend shall be in attendance as well. I think of how pleasant the whole event will be. I play out the conversations in my head and the flowers and the dresses and friendship. I want to be a part of it. But alas travel by plane from Utah to South Carolina is not cheap. It may end up just playing out in my mind and never in reality, but either way what a splendid event is shall be.