It Was Fun While It Lasted

At 7:30 am this morning my alarm clock ended my ridiculously short summer break. I stayed under my covers until 7:40 am. Class started at 8:00 am.

Class. Financial Management. I walked into class seven minutes early. I'd say that's quite a feat considering I got out of bed thirteen minutes earlier. Not that I'm bragging. I don't think showing up to class showerless is brag-worthy material. Although showing up to class seven minutes early might be.

The student next to me had his laptop opened to the Wall Street Journal. I don't think he was reading it. I'm guessing he was going for the intimidation factor. It worked. He had a collared shirt and a shiny mac. And the mac was opened to the world's top business newspaper. My first thought, Wow, this guy is going to be the next CEO of Walmart. I pulled my computer out and opened it to my Google Reader where I started flipping through pictures of uncomfortable shoes that I would love to buy. And the CEO next to me thought, Wow, this girl is going to fall on her face in those shoes. And he's right.

My flip flops broke. On Saturday. They were a pair of fairly walkable shoes, but they're not anymore. I destroyed them walking in Las Vegas. Yes, I went to Vegas for the weekend. And that was the extent of my summer break.

Today = First Day of Summer

I stood for two hours in the hot sun. And I was sweating. Everyone around me was sweating. It was a unifying experience. All of us, all the students who waited until the last possible moment to take their last final, standing in the hot sun and sweating. Hot. Yes, I did just use that word. I can hardly believe it, but yes, it was hot today. Delightfully hot.

And in that wonderful heat that made us all sweat, I had to wait for two hours to take my last final. I think that's ridiculous. Waiting in line to take a test? For two hours? Like I said, ridiculous.

I'm happy. Finals are over. And it was hot outside. Minus all the sweating and standing, life is pretty much amazing.

Mom

I inherited my mom’s dark brown hair color, but none of her curl. She kept her hair short and the natural waves swept across her forehead and curved around her ears. Her hazel eyes could be piercing, and near the end of her life they were her most striking feature. She lost her hair multiple times because of chemotherapy and each time her hair grew back, it would come in grey and with increased curl. For the weeks and months in between, she wore hats. She had a favorite black hat that she wore most of all. It was classic, with a small brim and a thin ribbon tied into a small bow. As she lost weight, the hat became too big. It would fall low on her forehead, almost covering her vibrant eyes that shown out from the gaunt sockets. Her eyes seemed to glow with health and wellness while her surrounding face was translucent and dull with sickness. Before cancer, she had a natural flush in her cheeks—a natural flush from raising seven children, from working hard, from loving, and laughing. My mom had rose-colored cheeks that came from living.

Hello blue ocean. My name is Laura.

Here's what's going down. I'm going down. To the Caribbean. Yes, you read that right. Yes, it's real. Real fun. Fun. Could there really be anything more fun? Maybe. It might be a bit more fun if I were going to the Caribbean to paint and study poetry for four and a half weeks. Oh wait, that is why I'm going

A dream. I tell you, this is a dream. And it's happening in real life.

Announcement: I am going to the Caribbean to study Derek Walcott's poetry and a bit of watercolor painting on the side. I leave July 4th.

And I get to meet him. Him being the poet. Derek Walcott. And maybe we'll paint together on a street corner while we eat curried mangoes. I've heard they're delicious. I'll paint one. A curried mango.

My goal: to have an artistic response to beauty. Beauty being the Caribbean. Artistic response meaning a watercolor painting or a poem. Or both.

Hello blue ocean. My name is Laura and I think we'll get along just fine.

Francis

You're going to be sick of Francis* pretty soon. I just have more and more to say about her.

For instance, Francis is not alone in the fireplace. Definitely not alone. There are many raccoons. Raccoons have babies. And I think they have them in our fireplace. At odd hours of the night. And the noises that I hear while I eat my cereal? Yeah, I'm pretty sure they're mating noises.

Disturbing. And I just keep wondering why I kind of like it.

*Francis: the raccoon currently living in my chimney. See my three previous posts for a more thorough explanation.

Mistake:

The raccoon is actually a girl. Her new name is Francis.

Update:

A raccoon. It was a raccoon. And he was living in our fireplace.

I named him. Frank. His name is Frank.

It

It makes screeching noises in the middle of the night while I eat cereal. I can hear it scratching and screeching and flapping and doing whatever it does. I spoon another bite of raisin bran into my mouth without blinking my eyes. I stare straight at the kitchen fireplace, challenging it to come out and fight. I don't know what it is and it lives in my chimney.

The worst part is, I'm getting used to it. I've been listening to it for over a week during my midnight cereal ritual and am now taking suggestions on what to name it. I don't think it's normal to want to name the creature in your fireplace that might turn out to be a RODENT OF UNUSUAL SIZE. And I want to be normal. Someone needs to kill it before I get further attached.

I'm eating cereal in the middle of the night. There is a scratching noise echoing down into the kitchen fireplace from the brick-encased chimney above. And I just might like it.

Happy Today

I'm a clogged drain in pajama pants and a sweatshirt with a blanket wrapped around my legs. My lungs are full of mucus, as are my nostrils and the spaces below my eyes that the doctors call sinuses.

And somehow, I'm happy today.

I think it is because as a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, the two weekends of the church's conference are quite possibly my favorite weekends of the year. And this weekend is the 179th conference of the church.

The leaders speak to us and it is always full of inspired teachings. Watching conference is rejuvenating and hopeful. This weekend, I won't miss a session of the conference. I can't afford to. I need the uplift as much as anyone.

You're invited to enjoy it with me.

National Poetry Month-- April

My poetry abilities consist solely of quoting The Princess Bride.

"Stop rhyming, I mean it."
"Anybody want a peanut."

And so, in honor of National Poetry Month, I'm going to try and make the big leap to go beyond Princess Bride. Today, I leave you with some Billy Collins. He should be everyone's favorite poet. Oh wait, he is.

Another Reason Why I Don't Keep A Gun In The House

by Billy Collins

The neighbors' dog will not stop barking.

He is barking the same high, rhythmic bark

that he barks every time they leave the house.

They must switch him on on their way out.

The neighbors' dog will not stop barking.

I close all the windows in the house

and put on a Beethoven symphony full blast

but I can still hear him muffled under the music,

barking, barking, barking,

and now I can see him sitting in the orchestra,

his head raised confidently as if Beethoven

had included a part for barking dog.

When the record finally ends he is still barking,

sitting there in the oboe section barking,

his eyes fixed on the conductor who is

entreating him with his baton

while the other musicians listen in respectful

silence to the famous barking dog solo,

that endless coda that first established

Beethoven as an innovative genius.

One week.

1 bowl of chocolate ice cream
2 accounting quizzes
1 charity ball (wore a gown)
1 health test
1 pear
8 color-blindness tests
3 birthdays
1 tank of gas
3 oranges
1 half-birthday (my own)
1 April Fool's joke
3 cookies
2 new pair of tights (on sale)
1 lost NCAA bracket
1 homemade chocolate cake
2 accounting practice tests
4 rounds of Blink
2 rounds of Whoonu
12 class lectures
1 grapefruit juice
1 bag of Reese's Pieces
5 restaurants
3 long phone calls with sisters
3 snow storms
10 hugs
4 essays
3 new shirts
1 replaced light bulb
1 Indian color festival
10 Disney songs sung at the piano
3 showers
2 shaved legs
55 emails
2 sick lungs

One blog post.