and the fab five takes the gold

I don't know about you, but when it comes to the Olympics I get pretty obsessed. Mostly because this means gymanstics! Every day! And oh, but my heart belongs to gymnastics! Although, are we really surprised? Probably not.

Growing up I always pictured myself as a gymnast, twirling here and there. Cartwheeling all over the place like it was my job, I have no words for the happiness I felt with chalk on my hands and a trampoline under my feet. The first time I set foot into a gymnastics facility was about 12 years ago. I was ten and my mom bought me this silly pink leotard with a skirt and I wore it like it was the official Olympic outfit for the American team. 

I made short work of the three levels I had to complete before I could compete. I was driven. I was passionate. It was my life. Soon I traded in that pink leo for a red one and then a black team leotard and then a purple one. I loved every second of it. 

I took pride in showing up to school with rips and callouses on my hands. In gym class I could crank out more push ups and chin ups than half of the boys and I could tumble across the floor to the music in my head. 

Walking away from the sport is something I regret, because I had the skill to make it a lot farther than I did. Even now though, an empty gymnasium floor or large flat field call to me. They beckon me to come over and do a flip. Just one! They shriek. You know you want to! You know you'll like it!

And there's nothing more satisfying than sticking a round off back hand spring back tuck across the lawn. Breathe in, breathe out, muscle memory, stick it, salute. 

So when the Olympics are playing women's gymnastics, you're not going to get me away from the TV easily. I remember watching Carly Patterson and then Nastia Liukin and now this Fab Five. I can't get enough. I want to go back in time. I want to be them. I want to feel that floor under my feet, the chalky bar in my palms and I want to breathe in the hard work and sweat. There's just nothing like it in the world.

day one complete

I have been a barista my entire collegiate career and I have loved mostly every second of it, as much as you can love a job. I remember my first shift at one of the cafes on our campus. It was a Wednesday night and I was working the closing shift with Calvin. I still had not quite grasped the difference between a mocha and a latte and God help me if I had to make a cappuccino. But Calvin was a good teacher and I learned pretty quickly. Soon my hands were flying around steaming all sorts of delicious beverages for those willing to pay a small sum of money in exchange for liquid goodness.

Campus Dining used my new found skill to their advantage, placing me in various shops around campus. I once considered it unlucky when the kiosk I worked at was being taken over by a coffee shop I had not ever heard of before. I thought I was going to lose my job because CD didn't have another coffee shop for me to go to.

And then this new coffee shop decided to keep me on. I was ecstatic! Not only was I no longer required to wear a uniform but I could also paint my nails! And wear my hair down! Oh the simple things in life! Plus I learned how to make designs in coffee, like leaves. You know how all the cool coffee shops do it, like champs.

I got some pretty good customer stories out of the deal too. There was a band of IT guys who would come get their coffee all at the same time. We called them the Motley Crew and they bantered and teased and wreaked havoc like it was their job. I always threatened to put pumpkin flavoring in Brian's drink. I never called Jason by his name - he was always Cappuccino Man.

Do you know, most people don't know the difference between a cappuccino and a latte? I blame those stupid gas station and continental breakfast machines you find in hotels. They dispense a cheap latte under the name 'cappuccino' and that just irks me to no end. Because then I get people who try ordering a cappuccino and when I ask them "wet or dry?" with a big fancy smile on my face, they look at me all confused like I just asked them to calculate the mass of the sun.

A cappuccino is a mostly foam. It's a really frothy and light drink. The foam can be really dry or it can be more wet, like a really foamy latte. A latte, on the other hand, is mostly milk, with a little bit of foam to top it off. I know the difference isn't very complicated, but they are two different textures in your mouth. Just learn your coffee, please. Life will be easier. For everybody.

Plus, then when I make jokes about being out of iced mochas, you'll actually understand that I can't actually be out of iced mochas. When you order coffee from a cafe, chances are they have an espresso machine and the proper ingredients, not a pre-packaged drink they grab out of the fridge and put in your hand.

But then I think back to my very first coffee experience, and I was a know-nothing who had a lot of learning to do. So really, how upset can I be when people don't the different between a caramel latte and caramel macchiato? Right.

Anyway, it's been four years since I was low man on the totem pole when it came to coffee. I just had my first day as a barista at Silverwood, and let me just say it was probably the easiest first day of a new job I will ever have in my life. Besides the fact that it was a ten hour shift and I have never worked one of those in coffee ever, I already knew how to make all the drinks. I rarely needed to ask a question, except about the till because let me just say that the till is a new learning experience every time you move to a different register. The difference in how tills are run is insane, if we're being honest.

Really the only drawback to being stuck in the Victorian House is that that's all I see for ten hours. The theme park is HUGE and I can't wait to just go and play there, not work. The Boy has never been, and once I have enough hours to get an e-ticket, that's going to change. DisneyLand is all well and good, but this park has a more laid back feel. Plus, I grew up here. This is MY park.

I just hope you like the coffee.

blast from the past

So I'm sure you're all aware that my computer broke a few months ago and I had to take it in to get fixed. 150 dollars later and it still wouldn't connect to the internet. Plus, because a large amount of files had mysteriously become corrupted, I lost a whole bunch of my important documents. Needless to say, I was not a happy camper. I pretty much threw my computer in the corner of the living room and refused to look at it.

It would call to me from under the blankets beside the couch, but I was too mad to even pretend I wanted to deal with it. All my photo editing software had been removed in addition to it not being able to connect to teh weefees and I just couldn't bring myself to open it up.

My mom took it back in to one of her friends to see if they could figure out why it still wasn't connecting to the wireless internet after windows had been uninstalled and reinstalled and it was basically back to the factory settings. And miracle of miracles that dude got it to work!

So after I did the necessary internet stuffs that needed to be attended to, I thought I'd sift through what pictures were left on my laptop. All of my new pictures that I took with my cannon are missing and a bunch of my school documents are nowhere to be found, but my entire high school career in pictures still exists. And let me just say, that definitely took me back. So many memories! So many things I forgot about until now!

Man, there are some things about high school that I do certainly miss. It's nice to see the photographic evidence!

for the love of costumes

I know my last post was a little down and out, but writing has always helped me process emotions. I promise that I'm not ungrateful for the house that I live in, or the fact that I'm surrounded by my family. I just had some things that I needed to get off my chest and vent about.

After I vomited all that information up and got it out of my system, I felt a lot better. I also decided that that should be the end of it, and from here on out I'm going to change my attitude. This may not be the course that I chose for myself, but it's where I am right now and I'll get through it. It's a season of life that is only temporary and who knows? Maybe after this semester is over I will never live at my parents' house again. So I need to just simply enjoy my time here with them the way things are now, with or without my own bedroom.

So. Now for something completely unrelated, let me tell you a little bit about my job so far. I haven't actually worked yet, I just completed orientation yesterday and I'm waiting to be put on the schedule. I keep checking back, almost obsessively, to see what day they want me to come in, but to no avail. Nothing is posted.

And so I wait.

I was all jazzed up to be a cabana attendant and bartender, but after orientation finished and they sent me into the HR building to buy my uniform, they informed me of the switch up. Apparently I was reassigned to a barista position in the Victorian house. At first I was super disappointed that I wasn't going to be learning anything necessarily new, especially because I think it would be really fun to bar tend and learn to make more drinks than just coffee ones.

But then I tried on my Victorian era costume and, well really. I look smashing.

the keeper, photobombing.

sexy and i know it

I mean, am I going to rock it or what? Right? Right. No one is going to be able to resist buying coffee drinks from me. I will melt them with my charm and dashing good looks. 

But really, dudes, that costume! It is not uncomfortable! Just mildly warm. I hope my building is air conditioned. 

because everything changes

Well dudes, big announcement! Remember how I was formerly unemployed and living in the land of find a job? It seems that I have stepped up in this world to join the ranks of the working class citizens! Hip, hip, hooray!

This will hopefully not only provide the extravagant opportunity to bring home the dolla billz, but also it will aide in getting me out of this house. Not that I don't enjoy being here every. single. day...but we all know where I want to be.

I was reminiscing on this in the shower just a few moments ago. You see, we were sitting in the living room yesterday when my father made a comment about the totes that I moved from the shed into the house. He wanted to know how long they were going to be taking up space in our living quarters. Whether or not he intended to sound gruff is yet to be determined, and I tried not to take it too hard. But honestly, Dad, where do you want me to put my stuff?

I made the mistake of remarking yet again that I do not live here by choice. Those kinds of comments are not pleasing unto my father's ears, for understandable reasons.

But let me ask you this:

If you were previously dwelling in an apartment where you had your own room and space for your things would you enjoy moving to a place where you had no room, all your valuables were stored in a shed in the backyard and even though you did a lot of errand running, escorting your younger sister around, cleaning and cooking, you were still counted as lazy because, well, why haven't you got a job yet? What do you do all day? Just sit on your bum?

Frankly, I don't feel like I belong here. This is my parents' house. This is where my brothers and sister are currently residing and almost all the time I feel like a stranger. Or a guest. Who does a lot of chores. Like the hired-help without the payment. I don't have a bedroom and I'm sleeping in our travel trailer with only my duffle bag of clothes and a fan for company.

Don't get me wrong, I love my family. I love seeing them and spending time with them. I miss them when I'm not here. And it's nice to eat my mom's cooking again. But I'm not happy. Trying to talk to my dad about it is out of the question too, because I start to bring up how I don't really like living in the trailer and he just gets mad at me. I guess he told my mom that he was done fighting with me, which I appreciate because when I first got here every conversation we had was a disagreement of some sort, but now it's like I don't even know what to say to him at all, lest something I say be misconstrued or misunderstood.

And things with my brother were bad at first too. He really liked to dog me about getting a job and most of the time I felt like I had two fathers ridiculing me every time I turned around. My situation with TheKeeper has marginally improved once I found out why he kept snapping at me. And I was honestly kind of shocked at what he had to say. You see, he's mad about the way money has been handled between me and my father and some of our arrangements. He blames me as being the reason that he has or hasn't gotten some of the help that he needed. So instead of being mad at our father and talking to him about his financial upsets, he was mad at me. But I have no control over the things my father decides to do or to not do, so how am I at fault?

I promise it's not like I don't want to fit in here, this is my family and I love them, but honestly guys? This is everything I was scared of happening coming to fruition.

I just want a bedroom. I want to be able to unpack my things and hang up my pictures and feel like I live here again. Moscow is a great escape because I don't have to walk on eggshells around anybody there and no one gets mad at me. I don't feel like anyone down there has a plan for my life and they're not trying to squish me into a mold or a certain direction that they believe I should be headed down. I can make my own decisions, and even though some people may not make the same decisions, it's all part of life and growing up.

I like talking to my parents about my decisions, but I hate getting ridiculed when they think I've made the wrong one. I think it's healthy to dialogue about big choices with people who have more insight and experience than I do, and my parents not only have more experience but they also can provide a Godly perspective. I just wish the family dynamic was a little different. I want to enjoy my time spent living back in the town from where I graduated high school. Hopefully the new job helps with that. A source of income is always welcome.

free falling

Sometimes there are moments in time that we would like to freeze and hold on to forever. A couple of those moments happened to me this weekend. In my head I keep reliving it over and over again, because it makes me smile.

This boy of mine, he is something special. I was visiting him this weekend and the more time I spend with him the more I like him. Which is both scary and exciting. He was sitting on one of the couches in his living room and as I went to sit down on the futon in the corner he grabbed my hand and said "C'mere you" and pulled me down next to him. In a joking voice, I asked him if I was no longer allowed to sit on the futon and his reply caught me completely off guard. He said "No, I just wanted to be near you." It was just as simple as that. But it's been so long since a boy has said something like to me that I just didn't know what to do. So I blushed and smiled and buried my head in his shoulder.

My stomach does this little lurching thing when I catch him staring at me. It usually results in me making an awkward face or mouthing the word 'what' with questioning eyebrows and a smile. Being stared at makes me a little uncomfortable. I don't know what to do. Which makes it entertaining for him to just stare and see what weird thing I will do next.

Which is something I like about him. He is weird. I am weird. And together we are the most awesomely weird that weird could be. We get lost in our own little weird world. It's been a long time since I've let a boy that far in. PC and I split two years ago, and after that I said no more! SVI was a little closer than the smattering of other boys who tried to infiltrate my world, but I used the fact that I was moving away as an excuse not to let anyone near me.

And then, well. The Boy.

He makes me want to think about the future. He makes me want to go on grand adventures. He makes me want to let him in. He makes me happy. He makes me feel like I can do anything. He makes me feel comfortable enough to be myself.

That was actually one of the first things that attracted me to him. We were comfortable around each other. We could be weird and nerdy and just plain not normal around each other with no worries of impending judgments or scaring the other person off. It was okay to say something completely and totally random and off topic or make a funny face out of the blue. I never felt that way around SVI and it has been so long since I felt that with PC that I almost forgot what it felt like at all.

I'm scared to like him as much as I do. I feel like each time I've tried to do that, I've been let down. Fear isn't something that should keep you from trying because then you will always walk around wondering about the what-ifs of the situation. But I remember the heartbreak after PC and I never want to go through that again as long as I live.

I just don't want to get invested in this boy and then get left high and dry again. But then I wonder if I am going to be missing out on a wonderful opportunity because I was too scared to try. And well bet me if I'm going to let that happen.

So I decided to jump. I want to see where this goes and I'm willing to risk the heartache to do it. Those last two sentences scare the crap out of me. Thinking it in my head is one thing, but putting it in writing in another. And this is even the second time that I wrote it down, the first being in the long conversation I had with T Lily earlier.

Fear should not be a defining factor in this kind of decision making. Not unless I'm going to be okay what-if-ing my life away. Besides that, if things fall through with this boy and I need someone to pick me back up off the floor and glue me back together I have plenty of people who will be there for me if fit hits the shan.

Things are gonna be okay. I jumped and now I'm falling. Someone catch me.

i'm trying to post more on the blog, but i make no promises

Dudes, it is hot here. I think it needs to be this warm all the time. Except that if that really was the case, I would probably never get anything done because my need to be outside would overpower my need to do work and I would just never show up for anything. Get me one of those signs that says "if you want me I'll be at the beach" because that's where I belong. The sun and the sand and a drink in my hand. Preferably a large bottle of ice water, thanks.

I went back to Moscow for the weekend to see the Boy and hang out at the house with a bunch of my friends. It's incredible how that small town still feels like home. I know the streets and the shops and the people. It's familiar and comforting and also very weird not to have a place of my own there now. I drove by my old apartment and waved at the empty windows. Hi old house. Bye old house.

But I feel like I have two homes, and that makes it hard to pick where to spend my time. On one hand, CDA is where my family lives. We have lakes and boats and things! And they all get my jokes and obscure movie references like the champs that they are. On the other hand, Moscow is where a majority of my friends still live and I can walk wherever I want. Plus, if I need to drive somewhere I can actually do the speed limit without raising my blood pressure. I swear, the people up north do not understand that it's okay to drive 35 miles an hour if the sign says 35. I'm pretty sure they interpret that as "well, I suppose you could go 35 if you really wanted to, but 25 or 30 is more acceptable." Which basically makes me want to punch everyone in the face.

As it is right now though, I am back in the land of "find a job" and watching copious amounts of cupcake wars and doctor who. I miss Moscow already. Mostly the people, especially the Boy. And all the walking! Well okay, really I miss everything. But if I could have it my way, my two homes would just merge and everyone would be in the same place at the same time. Then this whole choosing thing wouldn't exist. Life would be simpler. Yes, indeed. Or maybe the drive just wouldn't be as long. That would be nice too.

the fourth! and things

I remember when I was younger that our neighborhood put on an annual fourth of July parade. Us kids would deck ourselves out in the patriotic red, white, and blues and ride our bikes on a predetermined route through our familiar streets. One year TheKeeper even ran into a mailbox using his head as a battering ram. We're still not sure why.

But then we moved away and grew up and forgot about our small community parade filled roots. We weren't in another parade until this year - TheMechanic marched in the big parade with the young marines. Basically because he's made of awesome. But he's related to me, so I mean, really.

And also I had to make up for last year's awkwardly horrible fourth of July "celebration" that didn't exist. I was with PC and I had to watch the fireworks by myself from his parking lot because he refused to turn off his video game and come outside with me. But such was our relationship, video games often came first and foremost in his life.

This year, however, this year was way better. We started off the night with dry ice bombs, which are simply put, the most awesome things ever. Especially when put inside a santa clause melon and blown to smithereens

Shortly thereafter we transitioned into our small fireworks display in front of the house. It consisted of a plethora of ground hogs because they are mom's favorite. They spin around on the ground like crazed tansmanian devils. We like to light off multiples at a time and watch them duel in the street. And we intersperse them with twinkly fireworks that make you go "oooooh" and "aaaah" as is tradition.

At ten o'clock on the dot the fireworks display booms loudly just beyond the tree line and down by the lake. Sitting on the back porch we have the best view, plus we're not fighting the massive crowds for standing room only observations. It was quite a night, actually. For just around fifteen minutes our backyard sounded like a war zone, but only the fun kind with pretty lights and no dying. It was quite possibly one of the best fourth of July celebrations I've ever been part of. May next year be even more fun!   

i wasn't ready to come home, but i really needed to wash my hair

My hair smells like the smoke of a campfire, which is probably one of my favorite things ever. I have a lot of favorites, I know. But when everything is just so awesome it's hard to discriminate. I just want to love everything, so that's what I do. 

I love the smell of campfire smoke, especially. So much so that I purposefully subject myself to the billowing smoke from the pit of burning wood just so my sweatshirts will take on that distinct aroma. I can't decide if this is hazardous to my health or not.

There's just something about camping that makes me feel at home. Maybe it's because I have been camping since I was a just a few months old. Maybe it's because I'm happiest when I'm outside. Maybe it's because I get to be surrounded by people I love with minimal distractions from a tainted society. There is no cell service. There are no television productions. There is no internet. There is just us, trees, and fish.

The smell of the fresh mountain air in the morning melding with the morning coffee percolating on the stove top is something that everyone should experience at least once in their lives. The feeling of a rainbow trout tugging on the end of your fishing line is exciting enough to last for a week. The thrill of the catch is unreal.

Breathe in. Breathe out. Cast the line.

I have perfected the art of roasting marshmallows. The secret is in waiting for the fire to die down enough so the hot coals are exposed. The placement of the mallow is imperative to either success or failure. Too far away and you'll be waiting for hours, too close and you'll have a blackened outside and cold center. But if you hover in just the right place and rotate when necessary your mallow will reach a golden state of deliciousness that is hard to beat.

Graham up. Chocolate out. Sticky fingers for life.

The eagles that have made their nest by the lake are not only beautiful creatures, but they are also not very shy. On Friday I stood on the shore and watched in wonder as this gigantic bald eagle swooped down out of the sky and caught a fish maybe twenty feet from my point of view, give or take. Then he flew up to a branch and ate his dinner in style.

In the evening yesterday we stared at him from across the lake. He was sitting on the branch of a snag high in the sky watching over the small body of water. Every so often he would move his head or turn his body. It was hard to take my eyes off of his silhouette. The beauty of nature amazes me.

And so it goes to show that camping is in my blood. I was born to travel. To spend time outside. It's where I belong and where I feel most at home. I wasn't ready for the weekend to be over, but I was glad for the hot shower. It was a weekend well spent.