Happy Birthday...

I don't often use my blog as a forum to share my deep, inner thoughts so I beg your forgiveness as I indulge myself today. Today is April 28th, my new birthday. I suppose there are few of us fortunate enough to allot themselves another entire day devoted to a celebration of their life, but for me, it's more a day of reflection and solemnity than anything else. It is also an important day for me to thank my loved ones for their forgiveness, kindness, and willingness to continue loving me despite all.

I rarely speak of Moscow with my family... it tends to bring about painful and difficult to deal with recollections. But today I have enjoyed my fond memories of Moscow: coffee shops, sunset runs in the Palouse, ridiculously fun Halloween parties, late nights walking campus, the tiny art gallery on main street, the food co-op, buying shoes in the mall with Jen, sleeping through geology, the dumb football gargoyles on the Memorial Gym, watching hours of Miami Vice in my apartment, the view as you drive into Lewiston, "the gauntlet," the Pita Pit at two in the morning, Friday night BBQs, the smell of Bryan Young firing up the deep fryer (despite my objections), Saturday morning breakfast, sleeping in Sundays, frisbee golf, playing poker with my buddies at Staples, decorating for Christmas, making cookies when I couldn't sleep... so many good things!

Of course I brought back with me much sadness and many ghosts. Believe it or not, they seem to haunt me more here in Idaho Falls than Moscow. On days like today I find myself driving the river or out to the buttes in Osgood, places of my past that bring a bittersweet peace. And on days like today I only want to reach out and tell those I care for that I love them and I am so glad they are with me.

I hope all of you, even those that may never read this, know in their hearts that they gave me hope when I was in the dark, hugs when I needed to be held, clarity when I was surrounded by gray, and gave me another chance without question. Thank you for my happy birthday...



TWILIGHT
By: Vanessa Carlton

I was stained with a role
In a day not my own
And as you walked into my life
You showed what needed to be shown
And i always knew what was right
I just didn't know that i might
Peel away and choose to see from such a different sight

And i will never see the sky the same way
And i will learn to say goodbye to yesterday
And i will never cease to fly..if held down
And i will always reach too high
'Cause I've seen 'cause I've seen twilight

I never cared never wanted never sought to see what flaunted
So on purpose so in my face
Couldn't see beyond my own place
And it was so easy to behold
What could hold but you taught me i could change
Whatever came within these shallow days

And i will never see the sky the same way
And i will learn to say goodbye to yesterday
And i will never cease to fly..if held down
And i will always reach too high
'Cause I've seen 'cause I've seen

And as the sun shines through and pushes away and pushes ahead
It fills the warmth of blue and leaves a chill instead
And i never knew that i could be so blind to all that is so real
And as illusioned eyes i see there is so much to be revealed

And i will never see the sky the same way
And i will learn to say goodbye to yesterday
And i will never cease to fly..if held down
And i will always reach too high 'cause i've seen 'cause i've seen twilight

I was stained with a role in a day not my own
And as you walked into my life you showed what needed to be shown
And i always knew what was right
I just didn't know that i might
Peel away and choose to see from such a different sight

And i will never see the sky the same way
And i will learn to say goodbye to yesterday
And i will never cease to fly..if held down
And i will always reach too high 'cause I've seen 'cause I've seen twilight

The best of Dad... an update

There is nothing I enjoy more than recounting the strange and awesome habits of my Dad. I'm not sure if it's the fact that I'm getting older, or the fact that he's getting older, that accounts for the sudden abundance of material that leaves my sides hurting for hours at a time.

For example, I came home from work Monday evening and took the dogs out for a walk before dinner. My Dad has fired up the grill and taken his giant collection of chicken parts outside to roast them to perfection in the Eastern Idaho wind. Mind you, my Mother has told my Dad several times that she would prefer he not actually cook the chickens in entire halves, but chop them into their smaller parts. I guess there is something barbarian and appetizing in keeping these giant chicken body parts whole on the table that my Dad just can't resist.

Anyway, I left my Dad to cook and returned half an hour later. Resting in a covered casserole dish was half of the chicken bodies, charred black. Apparently, the flame of the grill had gotten away from my Dad and all but destroyed the chicken. Still hoping to salvage the meal, he merely got a few extra bowls from the cupboard and sat them at our plates, "the put the char in." I watched my poor parents dig through the torched skins and pick out the meat in the middle, my mother getting more frustrated every moment. At the end of the meal she simple stated to my Dad, "You better take care of that, or I will throw it away." And so he did.... he patiently peeled back the char and filled a tupperware container to feed the dogs with. It's still in the fridge, four days later.

My Dad is such a stud!

Are you my mother?

I'm sure that most of us recall Eastman's (thanks Kelly) tale of the deserted baby bird that is denied the experience of imprinting with its own kind immediately after escaping his egg and seeks out another mother figure. Along his path, he manages to find a kitten, a hen, a dog, a cow, and finally a power shovel. Ultimately, it is the power shovel which delivers the bird back to its nest and mother.

The past few weeks I have felt much like a power shovel. I have carted one of my sickly geek friends back and forth between doctors, hospitals, pharmacies, and home. The poor soul is one of those cursed with a week immune system so although he spent ten days on four times the normal dose of antibiotics for an infection, the infection still returned this past week. This alone was stressful, but add two jobs to that and it equals migraines, dosing off in odd places, and a sad social life. (I must add that I was not the only power shovel though, it really took two of us.)

Yesterday I flew the coop a little at my sick geek friend, for which I inevitably feel guilty. He merely asked me when his next doctor's appointment is and I slipped into a rage, demanding him to take more self-responsibility. I refused to make his medical decisions any longer and even refused to take him to, "Horton Hears a Who."

You may think me a monster for sharing this tale but I must say that I couldn't take much more of the mothering instinct coming out, I believe it was fundamentally changing me. Evidence of this was when my 19 year old geek and I walked into the doctor's office and the nurse immediately asked, "Are you his mother?"

I vehemently denied the accusation immediately! I began to think, how old do I look that someone would take me for my geek's mother?! Have I crossed some maternal instinct line that gives off motherly hormones or something that might single me out to others? And most importantly, how the hell do I get back over the line?

Well, it took me a little time, but I finally had to stop being the kitten, the hen, the dog and the cow, and dump my geek back into the nest. That's right, I'm a power shovel, baby!