When I was 6 my family moved out of Utah County and away from every member of my extended family on the maternal side. This side of the family still gets together almost weekly, just sans my immediate family and me.
On the paternal side of the family, for most of my youth my aunts, uncles, and cousins were spread all over the country: California, Washington, Florida, Georgia, Texas, etc. I have one cousin around my age and one aunt that I'm pretty close to; other than that we're awkwardly formal at familial gatherings.
When we lived at Snow, the first time we ever went home to Dani's was the weekend of Thanksgiving Break. Dani's sister, Brooke, was having a birthday party that weekend, and I expected it would be a reasonably small gathering. Not so. Dani dropped me off at the place the party was being held, took off to go to work, and left me with 40 of her extended family members, none of which I had met before. I spent the next three hours blowing up balloons, making friends with Dani's small cousins, and being baffled over the thought of such a close knit extended family. I had no idea that extended families got together for things like this. They see each other constantly; they're at every birthday party, dance recital, kindergarten graduation, and everything in between.
Virtually every time I went home with Dani from then on, or when I visit her now, I get to see the entire family. And I LOVE it. Her little cousins are the cutest girls on the planet. Her aunt Challene is endlessly kind and interested in life's events, and is so easy to talk to. Her brothers and sisters are socially inept, but hilarious. They treat me like I belong there. they put me to work just like the other members of the family, they ask about life, and they include me in their conversations and stories. They invite me on their family outings, whether Dani is available to go or not. I'm more comfortable with Dani's extended family than I am with some of my own. I love it.
This post is for you, Calvert family. Thanks for taking me in. :)
Sunday, April 28, 2013
Thursday, April 18, 2013
Snapchat
I recently downloaded Snapchat. I had it a few months ago, never used it, and subsequently deleted it. The other day I decided I would give Snapchat another try, so my sister gave me a tutorial. I downloaded it and Liz started walking me through the steps.
We saw the username of one of our close mutual friends, Kellee, and decided to send her a ridiculous Snap. So we got under the covers of my bed, pulled our tank top straps down, and positioned ourselves to look like we were naked. No big. We were still fully clothed. We sent the picture off and waited anxiously for Kellee to snap us back.
We soon got the notification of a new picture and opened it quickly. What did we see? A horrified Kellie-jo, my sweet friend from English class, with the caption "What the???!" I literally facepalmed my face in embarrassment and texted Kellie-jo, searching for words to explain our humiliating blunder. I also considered never going to English class again
In conclusion, I am an idiot and am never using any new modern technology for the rest of my life.
We saw the username of one of our close mutual friends, Kellee, and decided to send her a ridiculous Snap. So we got under the covers of my bed, pulled our tank top straps down, and positioned ourselves to look like we were naked. No big. We were still fully clothed. We sent the picture off and waited anxiously for Kellee to snap us back.
We soon got the notification of a new picture and opened it quickly. What did we see? A horrified Kellie-jo, my sweet friend from English class, with the caption "What the???!" I literally facepalmed my face in embarrassment and texted Kellie-jo, searching for words to explain our humiliating blunder. I also considered never going to English class again
In conclusion, I am an idiot and am never using any new modern technology for the rest of my life.
Thursday, April 11, 2013
Grandpa
"Sir, how many packs of cigarettes have you smoked in your lifetime?"
"16,000. Well, hang on. I quit for basketball season and then started again, so...carry the 2. Yep. 16,000."
The above is a conversation between my grandfather and his doctor. He's been in the hospital and even though he's likely miserable, he still has his dry yet hilarious sense of humor going at all times. He jokes about the food, about the state of the nurses, and about how he's keeping my grandma from her shopping trips. He is one of the happiest, most optimistic people I know.
When I was 8, he gave me Harper Lee's To Kill a Mockingbird. Being the nerdy child I was, I quickly devoured it and distinctly remember telling my grandpa that it was "just all right." He chortled his wheezy little laugh and told me to reread it when I was older. I followed his advice in the 9th grade and found that I liked it more. Then again in the 12th grade. Then again this past week. I finished the book for the 4th time yesterday morning and sobbed like a baby while finishing it. I then realized there has been a pattern in my reading, and it's due to my grandpa. To most of my cousins and siblings I only ever heard him ask generic questions. However, he ALWAYS asks me what I've been reading and then intelligently discusses it with me. We talk about more than just plot. We talk about themes and morals and writing strategies. He made me love reading even more than I already did and realize that I wanted to do something with English as a career.
My grandpa was a chemical engineer. He didn't have to go through the extensive literary analysis classes that I do. He didn't have to pull his hair out looking for the elusive theme of a poem. He did it because he is constantly searching for higher meaning and deeper understanding of life.
When he lived in Washington we went up to visit him every summer. I can distinctly remember my mornings with him as an early riser. We'd wake up and pick blueberries from the bushes on the side of his house. We'd then travel inside and watch the news, focusing particularly on the Welch's "100 years old" feature while he made pancakes. "How about that?! 100 years old is a long time to live." I assumed he was pretty close to that already as a child and didn't know why he was so astounded by the thought of a centenarian.
I know this is kind of rambling and disjointed, but I just wanted to write down some of my memories of my grandpa and the impact he's had on me. He is one of the kindest, most sincere, dedicated people I've ever had the privilege to know. He seems to be infinitely patient, good natured, and has a wonderful sense of humor. I'm hoping he leaves the hospital in good health soon, but I know our time together is drawing to a close.
I love you, Grandpa. I hope heaven is an endless golf course with lemon drop stands at every hole.
"16,000. Well, hang on. I quit for basketball season and then started again, so...carry the 2. Yep. 16,000."
The above is a conversation between my grandfather and his doctor. He's been in the hospital and even though he's likely miserable, he still has his dry yet hilarious sense of humor going at all times. He jokes about the food, about the state of the nurses, and about how he's keeping my grandma from her shopping trips. He is one of the happiest, most optimistic people I know.
When I was 8, he gave me Harper Lee's To Kill a Mockingbird. Being the nerdy child I was, I quickly devoured it and distinctly remember telling my grandpa that it was "just all right." He chortled his wheezy little laugh and told me to reread it when I was older. I followed his advice in the 9th grade and found that I liked it more. Then again in the 12th grade. Then again this past week. I finished the book for the 4th time yesterday morning and sobbed like a baby while finishing it. I then realized there has been a pattern in my reading, and it's due to my grandpa. To most of my cousins and siblings I only ever heard him ask generic questions. However, he ALWAYS asks me what I've been reading and then intelligently discusses it with me. We talk about more than just plot. We talk about themes and morals and writing strategies. He made me love reading even more than I already did and realize that I wanted to do something with English as a career.
My grandpa was a chemical engineer. He didn't have to go through the extensive literary analysis classes that I do. He didn't have to pull his hair out looking for the elusive theme of a poem. He did it because he is constantly searching for higher meaning and deeper understanding of life.
When he lived in Washington we went up to visit him every summer. I can distinctly remember my mornings with him as an early riser. We'd wake up and pick blueberries from the bushes on the side of his house. We'd then travel inside and watch the news, focusing particularly on the Welch's "100 years old" feature while he made pancakes. "How about that?! 100 years old is a long time to live." I assumed he was pretty close to that already as a child and didn't know why he was so astounded by the thought of a centenarian.
I know this is kind of rambling and disjointed, but I just wanted to write down some of my memories of my grandpa and the impact he's had on me. He is one of the kindest, most sincere, dedicated people I've ever had the privilege to know. He seems to be infinitely patient, good natured, and has a wonderful sense of humor. I'm hoping he leaves the hospital in good health soon, but I know our time together is drawing to a close.
I love you, Grandpa. I hope heaven is an endless golf course with lemon drop stands at every hole.
Wednesday, April 3, 2013
A Nightmare I had this Evening OR Why the H I'm Awake at 3 in the Morning.
It is currently the middle of the night. 3:05 am to be exact. The last time I saw this time of the night was NEVER. I am such a baby in my sleep patterns; I usually fall asleep around 9:30 or 10 and wake up naturally between 6 and 7. It's nice. "But Katy," you may ask "what on earth could be causing you to be awake at such an unholy hour? And could you teach me how to do your eyeliner? It looks awesome!"
Firstly, I'll be glad to tell you how I do my eyeliner, thanks for noticing! And secondly, let me tell you about the kind of day I had on Tuesday and my ensuing horrific nightmare.
Tuesday was LONG. I spent almost 13 hours on campus. I had two presentations that did not go as well as I'd hoped, due to the unwillingness to participate that some of my group members had. I took a 45 minute break from campus when my lovely brother took me out to dinner at Buffalo Wild Wings. We loaded up on shitty food and I went back up to campus. When I got up to campus, I received the news that a girl I had known from Snow had died in a pretty bad car accident. I got all sorts of emotional just remembering how sweet she had been to me when we stayed with her and all the good things about her I had heard from my friend, Celeste. After that we had a meeting with some secondary ed advisers that just made me super anxious about the impending future and my career. I don't feel old enough to have a career. Bleh.
Okay. That was my day. Now here's a tiny bit of background information you'll need to understand this dream. Dani has a friend, Alexis. Alexis is the sweetest person you'll ever meet and I got the chance to become friends with her at Dani's bachelorette party and wedding. Her family is from Nevada so I've never met any of them, I just know that Alexis is this cute, tiny thing that would never hurt a fly. All right. Dream time.
SO. I dreamed that I was in Salt Lake for the weekend spending time with Dani and Jaxson when I received a text from my mom. The text read, "do you know a Mr. Gonzales?" I said I only knew of him and that he was Alexis' dad, and didn't receive a text back for several hours. I thought nothing of it and went about my day cavorting with Dani and Jaxson.
Several hours later I received a picture message from my mom. I opened it and saw a picture of my kitchen with knives stuck into every surface, blood seeping everywhere, and gauges littering the cabinets and countertops. The text read, "your friend's dad showed up at the house and did this to the kitchen to avenge the death of his daughter." I started hyperventilating and screaming and immediately called my mom. She then informed me that Mr. Gonzales had murdered my sister, my best friend, Liz.
I've never experienced such a feeling of dread and that cliched feeling of "my world collapsing around me," but that's what dream Katy felt. Vividly. Liz is my number 1 reason for living, so the news of her death made me unravel. I went into this stupor and drove home without knowing how I got there. I arrived home and my mom met me, but she wasn't sad at all. She just spoke very matter of factly about what had happened. Soon, the truth came out that MY MOTHER had murdered Alexis (I know she had a reason but I cannot for the life of me remember what it was.) To avenge Alexis' death, Mr. Gonzales had come to try to murder me, but upon discovering that I was in Salt Lake, took my sister instead.
And then I woke up. Now I have to pee really bad but I'm terrified to get out of bed, and every time I hear a car go by outside I quake in fear.
Ready, interpret!
Sidebar: My mom could never and would never murder anyone. She's too nice. And she doesn't have that kind of brute force.
Firstly, I'll be glad to tell you how I do my eyeliner, thanks for noticing! And secondly, let me tell you about the kind of day I had on Tuesday and my ensuing horrific nightmare.
Tuesday was LONG. I spent almost 13 hours on campus. I had two presentations that did not go as well as I'd hoped, due to the unwillingness to participate that some of my group members had. I took a 45 minute break from campus when my lovely brother took me out to dinner at Buffalo Wild Wings. We loaded up on shitty food and I went back up to campus. When I got up to campus, I received the news that a girl I had known from Snow had died in a pretty bad car accident. I got all sorts of emotional just remembering how sweet she had been to me when we stayed with her and all the good things about her I had heard from my friend, Celeste. After that we had a meeting with some secondary ed advisers that just made me super anxious about the impending future and my career. I don't feel old enough to have a career. Bleh.
Okay. That was my day. Now here's a tiny bit of background information you'll need to understand this dream. Dani has a friend, Alexis. Alexis is the sweetest person you'll ever meet and I got the chance to become friends with her at Dani's bachelorette party and wedding. Her family is from Nevada so I've never met any of them, I just know that Alexis is this cute, tiny thing that would never hurt a fly. All right. Dream time.
SO. I dreamed that I was in Salt Lake for the weekend spending time with Dani and Jaxson when I received a text from my mom. The text read, "do you know a Mr. Gonzales?" I said I only knew of him and that he was Alexis' dad, and didn't receive a text back for several hours. I thought nothing of it and went about my day cavorting with Dani and Jaxson.
Several hours later I received a picture message from my mom. I opened it and saw a picture of my kitchen with knives stuck into every surface, blood seeping everywhere, and gauges littering the cabinets and countertops. The text read, "your friend's dad showed up at the house and did this to the kitchen to avenge the death of his daughter." I started hyperventilating and screaming and immediately called my mom. She then informed me that Mr. Gonzales had murdered my sister, my best friend, Liz.
I've never experienced such a feeling of dread and that cliched feeling of "my world collapsing around me," but that's what dream Katy felt. Vividly. Liz is my number 1 reason for living, so the news of her death made me unravel. I went into this stupor and drove home without knowing how I got there. I arrived home and my mom met me, but she wasn't sad at all. She just spoke very matter of factly about what had happened. Soon, the truth came out that MY MOTHER had murdered Alexis (I know she had a reason but I cannot for the life of me remember what it was.) To avenge Alexis' death, Mr. Gonzales had come to try to murder me, but upon discovering that I was in Salt Lake, took my sister instead.
And then I woke up. Now I have to pee really bad but I'm terrified to get out of bed, and every time I hear a car go by outside I quake in fear.
Ready, interpret!
Sidebar: My mom could never and would never murder anyone. She's too nice. And she doesn't have that kind of brute force.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)