Lunar Cycles? ... Maybe?

Right now I have a headache who's splitting-effects could compete with the San Andreas Fault. (You can add that to the list of "You know you're from California when...") and I really should be going to bed to take care of said headache. Not that it's wicked late, but I can hardly see straight...I blame it on the three-hour meeting I had. I know what you're thinking: Yikes.


But I feel like I want to write. I know, I know...how could I write if I can't even think straight. But it's true. I just feel it sometimes--I'm sure you all know what I mean. Not necessarily with writing, but with something.

Do any of you have a certain night of each week where it is noticeably more difficult to fall asleep at night? (Yep, we're taking a totally different turn here.) Mine is Wednesday. I used to think it was because I often went to play basketball on Wednesday night, and when I got home it would take an hour or so for the adrenaline to wear off enough for me to pass out. Now I'm not so sure, though I doubt the ball-playing helps. (Not that I'm willing to give it up entirely.)

I stopped playing ball every week because I've got some equipment issues right now. Yet, I find myself still lying awake long after Mike has returned from playing and has fallen peacefully to sleep. Not every week, but more often than the rest of the nights in a week, that's for sure. I seem to have more ideas on Wednesday nights. They just roll around in my head and bounce off each other until I've written them down. If I don't write them down, two things will happen: (1) I will be up even later, and (2) I will kick myself later when I'm trying to think of the "really cool idea" I had. So I jot them down on a pad of paper in the kitchen, then climb back in bed. This will happen two or three times before I'm actually asleep. Then in the morning, or a day or two later, I will go through them and see if anything still sounds interesting. Then, theoretically, I'll write one of them. (At the very least I'll start it.)

I don't know what it is about Wednesday. It just gets the juices flowing. If I didn't have day-time responsibilities I would probably stay up all Wednesday night typing up ideas and outlines and intros. Which means, I guess, it's a good thing I do have responsibilities--otherwise I'd be sleep-deprived and my ideas would probably not be as good.

Huh...look at that. My headache's gone.

Mike's Gone

They announced during Sharing Time in Primary that the Elder's Quorum would be bowling tonight at 9 pm. That's all fine and dandy for them, but Mike and I are on a 30 Rock kick--we're systematically working through all the seasons--and this really puts a damper on my night. But he's always complaining that the Elder's Quorum never does anything ("and the Relief Society is always doing things"--which is true) so he wasn't allowed to stay home, even when the temptation to watch another episode hit us both wicked hard. I've read a few chapters in my book, which I'm almost finished with but haven't felt up to reading lately--I think mostly due to being sick last week. Being sick always puts me off from reading, ironically. I just feel too tired to pay attention and take notes, etc., but I know that if I read it without paying attention or at least jotting some thoughts down I'm probably going to just forget about it and reading that part will have been largely worthless since I don't remember anything from it. It also takes longer 'cause my mind keeps wandering off the page and I end up back-tracking to figure out what's going on.

So, yeah, reading while I'm sick doesn't work out. Moving on.

I'm not sick anymore. Thank heavens. Last week really did a number on me, as demonstrated on Friday when I completely slept through my voice lesson--at 6 pm. That was embarrassing. My email to my teacher that night was just pathetic. Sunday I was well enough to fill in for a friend of mine who leads music for the Primary. Oh, my, she is the luckiest woman on earth! No, leading in Primary is not that great. It can be fun, but the big kids are constantly seeking attention (or avoiding it) and getting the Sunbeams to pass the teddy bear in a game of musical hot potato is like trying to get them to hold still while you saw their legs off.

But then you get to go to nursery. Oh, my! What an AWESOME gig! Man, that is where I'm supposed to be! And the best part is, two of the girls were home sick that day! (Not that them being sick is good, it was just nice to have such a small class.) It was Madie and three boys. They sit on these little carpet squares the teachers pull out for them and just stare up at me like high schoolers who think they'll get As if they stay awake! The three littlest ones--Madie, Ezra, and Weston--all lit up when I pulled out little suns on popsicle sticks for them to hold while we sang Jesus Wants Me For A Sunbeam. Weston kept running up to me every time I'd pull something out of the bag and clap his hands together until I gave it to him. Hahahaha! I was cracking up! Even Ezra, who has had three hard weeks of nursery so far, calmed right down and smiled when singing time began. Oh my goodness, it made my week, that's for sure.

Speaking of little kids being cute:

Her foot looks huge in this picture. Well, actually, her feet are pretty big. For an 18-month old anyway. I'm planning on sending her to clown school.

And here's a little sumpin'-sumpin' I've been working on for a few days now. Part of me feels like it needs to be longer, but then every time I go to write more nothing sounds right. It all sounds like I'm trying to hard to lengthen it, so I guess this is it. I dedicate it to Tani, since she's always asking to read my stuff. Thanks, Tani! You're too sweet--I'm sure everyone else thinks that too. ;) (P.S. I hate, haaaaaaaate titling things. I'm so bad at it! If you have any suggestions let me know.)

Days pass slowly.

Weeks fly.

Time itself knows not what it does,

But tumbles down as so many beads

Off a broken necklace

Bouncing and scattering,

Then slowly spinning to their stops.

Love's Little Adventures

It's not quite St. Valentine's yet, but close enough for this to be appropriate--of course, it's also my blog and whatever I want is appropriate.

In Your Town Monthly--a local magazine--they were having a Valentine's essay contest. I don't have the prompt in front of me any more, but basically it was to describe in 500 words or less the most romantic night you've had with your Valentine. It took a little while for me to think of something that wouldn't be too cheesy. Let's face it, we're cheesy, and cheese seems even cheesier when it's written down. I finally settled on our first "date" which was accidental, actually, and not at all romantic really--not in the traditional sense at least. But I decided it would be good practice to take a different look at romance and I really needed to submit something to this contest since it's one of my resolutions. Anyway, I didn't win, but I was a finalist. You can see it on the magazine's Facebook page here, along with the other finalists (different page for the winner). Or you can just read it below!

Mike and me in Arizona, November 2007.

Love's Little Adventures

On our first date, Mike took me to a sandbar on the Snake River for a nighttime swim. The river was beautiful, and because we were in a very small town with very few lights the stars shone brightly enough to reflect off the stillest parts of the river. We sat on a small wooden dock that just peeked over the water. I wasn’t particularly keen on jumping in; despite the warmth of the summer night, I knew the water was going to be frigid. Mike, however, dove in without delay.

“Whoo!” he shouted as he bobbed back up. “C’mon! It’s awesome!” He worked hard to convince me. “What if I threw you in?” I don’t know what it is with men and the idea that throwing a woman into a freezing body of water will attract her to him more, but it seems like a common notion.

“If you threw me into that water, I would steal your dry clothes and drive back home.” I wasn’t joking either—I would have. He agreed not to force me in; with this assurance, I jumped in on my own. As I went down under the water, the cold enveloped me until I was so numb it almost felt warm. When I came back up for air I could barely breathe from the pounding of my heart to warm me up. It was exhilarating to be out in the cold river with the stars and moon over me, and I could see why Mike had shouted. I paddled around for a few minutes before climbing back onto the dock. Mike congratulated me and laughed when I could barely respond. The cold had made all my senses clearer—his laugh filled the whole space around us, and it made me laugh, too. I wrapped up in my towel and looked on as Mike took one last dip in the water before we gathered out things and climbed the small hill back to the car.

The cold clarity helped me see something that night I would see again and again over our year of dating: Mike’s knack for creating adventure in an otherwise mundane life. That is romance. The next summer we were married in the beautiful city of Boston, and in two and a half years of marriage he has kept the romance coming. Even with our seventeen-month-old daughter he has kept up the practice of taking me on his little adventures.