For Danielle

I was thinking about how much I appreciate what Danielle Smith has done for me, this song from the best two years reminds me of her.

Don't You Know

Dont You Know Dont you know Cant you see Im not who I used to be Dont you know Cant you see What your love has made of me Of the broken pieces of my life You could see all I could be if I was whole... Then you so tenderly connected All the fragments of my misdirected soul Dont you know Cant you see Im not who I used to be Dont you know Cant you see What your love has made of me How can I ever return the love you gave When its more that I have ever known before... Oh you know Ill keep on trying..forever Cause thats what forevers for Dont you know Cant you see What your love is making me Dont you know Cant you see What your love has made of me Dont you know Cant you see Im not who I used to be Dont you know Cant you see How your love has set me free

Leen

This past week Aileen has been with my dad at my uncle and aunts cabin. Having her gone has made me realize just how much I depend on her, and look forward to doing things with her. It hadn't hit me until recently that we will never again drive to school together and sing Taylor Swift at the top of our lounges. We will never pass each other in the hall and grinning, pretend not to know each other. We will never walk to Shelton's room together and talk to him about our futures. I will never walk in the band room after school, and see her standing there itching to leave. I guess I don't have too much to complain about, seeing as she will be living at home, but I feel a out of sorts, thinking about high school without my sister. I have always known the day would come, but now that it is here I don't know what to do with it. I guess all I'm really trying to say is that I love my sister so much. I'm so grateful for her example. She is one of the very best people I know! I love our discussions, and all our long hard laughs. She will blow everyone out of the water next year, (even if she refuses to admit it,) but I will miss our high school days. Good luck Leen. I love you!

An Ode to MILK!

Milk...the word even rolls off your tongue pleasantly. I love everything about it. It is my elixir of life. It is my equivalent of the food of the gods (ambrosia and nectar). In short, I love milk.

I have always considered myself a food oriented person. Some peoples hearts lead them, my stomach makes my decisions. However the majority of my food oriented thoughts are milk related.

I have always frowned upon those who enjoy soy milk. My mother used to bring some home and most of my family would enjoy it. However, I being the abnormal, never cared for the liquid. Recently, due to lack of sleep, I accidentally poured myself a glass of soy milk for breakfast, as opposed to my usual helping of cow milk. As the cool liquid entered my mouth and began its decent down my throat, I was very pleasantly surprised. I licked my lips, blinked for a few times, and then decided I like soy milk! Needless to say, milk is my delight, by it cow or soy, coconut or goat, I love it. The end.

The Human Race; More like food then we think

Lately I have been pondering the pigment of my skin, and by that I mean the almost mahogany shade that comes from many hours in the sun. In the past I always considered having an olive complexion, as being blessed indeed. I took great delight in watching as my skins shade slowly deepened and took on the glow of being sun kissed. Then one evening I was skimming through a recipe book about chocolate, when I realized that my once beloved skin was almost the same shade. The whole absurdity of it all hit me, most humans, (Americans to be precise) will stop at nothing to be tan, even though it sort of looks ridiculous. Desirable as it is, the whole idea of being tan is a tad abnormal. The more I think about it I realize that I look like a chocolate truffle, or a roast. Thus evolution takes a new path, as humans become more and more like the food they love to consume.

A House of Order

This past week I went to the Draper temple with some friends. I wasn't able to go to the open house so the visit was my first. The inside was lovely, elegantly carved wood adorned the walls hi lighted by windows etched with square designs accompanied us all the way to the changing room. Yet, amidst all the splendor, the experience was tainted by a general chaos. The Provo temple operates like a well oiled machine. They have established a system that generally works very effectively. Unfortunately I felt, well waiting to be confirmed that I was waiting amid a bustling crowd in line for a roller coaster. All around me people were whispering and laughing, interrupted only by loud temple workers telling us to move forward to the next pew. When we were finally ushered into the font room, it was freezing! As I sat teeth chattering, I was angry at the rest of the people there for not making it a good experience for me. And then it hit me. My trip there wasn't for me. Yes I felt calm, (at some moments) and was able to think more clearly, but the trip was really for others on the other side waiting patiently for us to come along. further more, each whispering girl and fidgeting boy were my brothers and sisters, I can't help feeling ashamed at my resentment. I remembered the quote, that if we could see what each of us had the potential to become, we would be worshipping each other. I was overwhelmed by how inadequate I felt to be in the presence of heavenly fathers choice spirits. I was touched and humbled by what started out to be an unsavory experience.