A Post About Nothing Much in Particular, or, The Essence of Summer.

       Funny how when after school has finally run its annual course, you find your brain suddenly freed up but have lost the will to think. Even remote thoughts like, "I think I might clean my room today," are unwelcome.
It's a lovely feeling. I've enjoyed it so much that even writing a little blog post happens only when I'm not basking in the warmth of nothing-to-do. I have a great deal less pressing thoughts all clamoring for attention, cluttering up my brain-attic and bickering amongst one another.
       This is summer. To us Minnesotans, that word means warmth, mostly. Now that our finicky globe has turned towards the sun we poke our pale faces our of our houses (they feel more like caves, and we like hermits), blinking in astonishment. What is this lush, green world? Have we been transported to a different planet?

       I've run out of words. All my description of the bliss of summer seem to fall very, very short. Maybe I should stick to poetry. But I find poetry lacking something, even if I can't decide what. Perhaps if I had something to rant about....but no. Not today. Not when the sun is so clear, and sky deep and wide and blue. I think I'll just sit and breath. 


                   

A moment of love

Today is being...interesting. I woke up with all these good intentions, and now I find myself, after snapping at my mother and mentally tearing myself down as a result, writing this post when I should be doing something constructive. For that reason, I'll keep this one short.
     Mainly, all I find myself thinking, "What is wrong with me??" Why can't I act in a way that would build people up and not bring them down? Why can't I remember God? Well, I know the answer. I just don't particularly care for it. For some reason, I do not feel like praying. Algebra, emails to colleges, and thank-you cards are not the highlights of my day. In fact, I seem to be finding every excuse possible to not accomplish what I need to. What is wrong with me?
      1st Thessalonians 5:16-22 says, "Rejoice always; Pray without ceasing; in everything give thanks; for this is God's will for you in Jesus Christ. Do not quench the spirit; do not despise prophetic utterances. But examine everything carefully; hold fast to that which is good; abstain from every form of evil."
      As I'm writing this, I think I realize that we, everybody, need to hold fast to everything that is good--cling to it with every fiber of our strength, because if we do not we are beset with evil. Whether it be anger, a bad attitude in my case, discouragement, or hate, many things. God, help me now to cling to all that is good, to cling to You. Please forgive me, God, for my pessimism, my anger, my hate. Forgive me.
      I forgive you. My love, little one. 

No title for this one--spoilers.

       I walked in the door sweaty, tired, sunburnt, with sand in my shoes. Usually you could guess what I had been doing--mowing the lawn perhaps, or helping Dad with one of his projects. But I forgot to mention the idiotically huge grin plastering itself over my face.  Mowing the lawn doesn't usually go hand-in-hand with that expression. There is only one thing on earth that could make me that happy. Yup. Horses.
       I know, I know,  its so darn cliche! About fifty-five percent of the world's female population will say that their favorite animal is the horse. I still fit in with the majority. Every little girl gets a bug in her brain about horses at some point in her life. most of them grow out of it. ...I never did.  Every person who has been around me long enough to have a conversation that goes somewhere along the line of "what do you like to do" knows this about me. So I proudly hold up my head and say that, yes, my favorite animal is the horse.

  Normally, this would be a perfect place for a rant about the beauty, grace, strength, and freedom of horses. But even if your brain is the size of a hummingbird's, you don't need me to tell you that. Suffice to say that no animal will ever, ever compare to a horse. That's why I came home that day with a gigantic grin on my face. 

     
     
                                    

A sentimental moment

       I sometimes think my pointshoes are my best friends.  Think about it--they've witnessed every blister, every bloodstain, every tear, every hour where I've counted the long minutes to the end of rehearsal so I can run on them to plunge my sweaty face in an icy stream of water. Something in me seems to wilt when we're apart. I worry about them, because if they fail, I fall.
 

       I believe I've heard it said that a woman's shoes were her best friend. This might be more true than many of us realize. However, I tend to be skeptical that any article of footwear could be as intimate as a pointeshoe. Just saying. They are the only kinds of friends that were made to be destroyed every few weeks.

       Well, I'll be glad to have them back. We've been separated for far too long. 

Once upon a time...

     "Once upon a time, in a land far away, there lived a girl named Karly...One night, she and her mother and father and brother and their dogs were sitting around the campfire up at their cabin. The firelight was flickering and casting shadows into the long grass around the fire. Everything was peaceful and quiet. A full moon rose over the trees, casting eerie silver light over the yard...." Dad paused, his voice low and his eyes sparkling with mischief as he watched me for a reaction. "Suddenly, there came a rustling from the grass in the woods. The girl's dog, Sonny, went slowly up to investigate. He disappeared into the long grass and everything was silent. Karly called his name, but he didn't come back. The rustling came again. Karly got up to go look for the dog and walked over to the forest. It was pitch black. Suddenly, a wolf howled. And another..."
      "And then what, Dad? What happened next?"
      "And then.... (another dramatic pause)...Theyallgotflusheddownthetoilet!"
      "Dad!" I complained, grinning. "What really happened?"
      Dad bluffed his way out of the question and began tickling me, evoking several shrieks of merriment. Finally, he chased me away and I sought refuge on the other side of mom, away from the fire. I settled down on the grass and gazed into the coals.
     A wolf howled.
     And I felt a sudden and panicky desire to be as close to the fire as I could be--as far away from the threatening dark. The dogs cocked their heads. Sonny growled. Then we heard the wolves again, this time with more voices. Have you ever heard a bunch of the neighborhood dogs barking all at once? It was like that, only more savage. It sounded as though a pack was having a rather violent discussion just a little ways off in the woods behind the garage. Now, the lake on which our cabin is situated is by no means unpopulated. In the recent years, wolves have been migrating closer and closer to civilization, much to the chagrin of my brother and I, because it stopped our galavanting through the woods. But anyways, back to the story.
     It was definitely eerie, sitting by the fire with the round ball of the moon floating above our heads, and the bats flying in and out of the cabin lights. Dad's story sure hadn't helped. But it was...very neat, to say the least, to hear the wolves howling and barking out in the woods. The stars were so bright that night, I remember.