Babysitter

Our parents randomly decided to go on a cruise for a whole week. The week right before Christmas, no less. And so, for the past four days and the upcoming five days... it is just Caitlin and me. Most of that time, she spends at school, or basketball practice, or basketball games, which means that most of the time it is just me. This morning, as I stood in front of the bathroom mirror, in my towel, brushing my teeth, I realized that I have begun talking to myself. In a few more days, after some lengthy, heart-warming conversations with myself, I'll finish my solitary evenings by, first, beating myself at a grueling game of chess, then giving myself a luxurious foot-massage, after which, I'll tuck myself into bed and dream of my own incomparable company.

But, of course, there's still Caitlin--my one lifeline to sanity. This past Sunday, I made her go to Relief Society with me, so I wouldn't have to sit alone in a room full of old women. The president stood up at the beginning of the lesson and said, "We'd like to welcome all our visitors, and Jessie Kerr, who is up for the holidays. She's babysitting her little sister while Darin and Myra are away on a cruise!" All the old ladies in the room turned and smiled at me, like I was the sweetest most grown up big sister in the world. Yep! That's me, girls... I'm just up, babysitting this seventeen-year-old baby right here. Party at my place! Bring food. I smiled back. Caitlin folded her arms as I picked a hair off her black jacket, licked my hand and smoothed her bangs, pinched her cheek, and handed her a plastic baggie of cheerios...

For Sunday dinner Caitlin and I had Macaroni and Cheese... and Chili. MacaChilliCheesaroni. It's only a box of "yellow death" blue box mac & cheese mixed with a can of Western Family Chili Con Carne, but slopped over a baked potato, it was deliciously satisfying. I invented this meal myself. I've constructed many an interesting dinner combination in my solitary independent days. Like Mashed Potato Alfredo, or Gorilla Granola, or Strawberry Yogwiches. Some people have many recipe books and no creativity, then there are people (like myself) who own no recipe books, have a boundless creative genius when it comes to cooking, and eat alone. Hm... pity, that is.

Tonight, after Caitlin and I finished cleaning up after dinner, we stood in front of the open refrigerator and glumly took inventory of its contents.

"Well, Cait, we've got leftover macaroni and cheese and chili crap, and some spaghetti-o's with sliced Vienna sausages, an old burrito with only one bite taken out of it, that pink, fluffy, fruity, marshmallowy mush, and a few cold crusty Tater Terds..."

"Yup... and you made it all."

I closed the fridge with a sigh, and we both headed our separate directions. Caitlin went downstairs to her room to do homework, write music, play dolls, whatever it is she does down there, and I wandered into the living room, which I've transformed into a recording studio. There, surrounded by three guitars, a mandolin, a piano, a xylophone, a computer, a Christmas tree, and a stack of library books, I sank ceremoniously onto the couch, assumed the I'm-bored-out-of-my-mind position, and stared vacantly at the lights on the tree.

"Girl, what do you want to do tomorrow?" I asked myself.

"It's hard to say... There's nothing I really have to do." I answered.

"I know. Awesome."

"I guess I could clean the bathroom and sweep the kitchen floor."

"Yeah, and mop it too; that needs to be done."

"Especially after Caitlin had that ketchup incident." I added.

I laughed out loud at myself, "Oh yeah! That was great."

"Well, which book would you like to read before bed? Captain Matrimony, the I Spy Christmas book, or Bigfoot, A Personal Inquiry into a Phenomenon?"

"Ooh... tough one, Self."

"I know."

Squirt

Grandma caught a kitten. She set a live trap out in the backyard and snagged a darling, little, Siamese kitty. It was little and perfect, unlike the five other kittens we caught about a month ago.

We didn't use a trap to catch those, though--I caught them using agility, patience, sneaky huntress skills, and my bare hands. They lived under Grandpa's shed, and in order to catch them, I had to lure them out with kitty chow, wait, wait, wait, and wait some more, then at the prime moment, swoop down and grab them up. By the fifth kitten, I was a champion kitty catcher.

They were also Siamese-looking cats, but splotchier. Some had white paws or white spots on their noses. Despite their flawed Siamese-ness, we loved them, Grandma and I. Grandpa didn't, but he didn't really have a say in the matter, especially when Grandma wanted to keep them in the bathroom. She even made him give every single kitten a shot and put eye drops in their eyes. He must really love Grandma a lot, because I know he doesn't love cats.

Grandma and I built a house for the kittens out of a giant cardboard box that we found in some body's dumpster. It was perfect for them.

We named them: Jolene, Evelyn, Darby, Tracy Potts, and Bruce. Bruce had a stubby tail and fell asleep whenever anyone held him. Grandma named Tracy Potts after a newscaster on the TV. Darby was feisty. Evelyn was pretty. Jolene was shy.

We had fun letting them crawl all over us and fall asleep in our arms, but soon Grandma realized that she didn't like changing their litter box twice a day. She made a sign: "Free Siamese Kittens" and put it in front of the house by the road. Within the next couple of days Jolene, Bruce, and the whole gang had new homes, Grandma was relieved of kitty-poo duty, and Grandpa was just relieved.

Then a few weeks later she caught this kitten in the trap. It's a little bigger than the others and friendlier too. I guess it must be easier to take care of, because she hasn't posted any "free kitten" signs yet.

It's living in the bathroom.

My first encounter with the creature was this past Sunday. I decided I needed to make a little trip home for the weekend. When I walked into the big familiar house, my first instinct was to hit up the bathroom and relieve myself after the drive.

I walked down the dark hall toward the bathroom, and was surprised to find the door closed--the door is never closed unless the bathroom is occupied, which I knew it wasn't, because Grandma and Grandpa were both taking their after-lunch naps, and I was the only other person there. Cautiously, I inched the door open. I could feel some sense of resistance, as if the door was pushing a fallen towel along the ground. Then I saw a little tail curl around the bottom of the door, followed by a dainty paw stretching up in the air.

Squeezing through the small opening, I stepped inside and took in the site. Litter box right next to the tub, cat food in the corner beneath the towels, kitty bedding fluffed up beneath the sink, and napping on the floor in front of the door, a little, blue-eyed, Siamese kitten gazing up at me curiously.

"Well, hello there..." I chuckled, and anxiously headed off to the other end of the bathroom. The toilet was set back in a corner, hidden from view of the kitten, which I was grateful for. Taking care of my own personal business, I lightly hummed a tune to myself, when suddenly a low, grinding vibration pulsed through the air. I looked around, puzzled. What in the world is that?

The cat playfully poked its head around the corner, purring up a storm. "Go away kitty. Do you mind?" No, it didn't. Not in the slightest. It sauntered on over to where I sat on my throne of glory and began to rub up against my bare legs, weaving in and out and around. I just pretended that this was perfectly normal and not awkward in any way.

After I'd had enough friendliness, I reached down and gently shoved the cat away from my legs. Following the gentle shove was a distinct, nasty squirting noise, just like the sound that a ketchup bottle makes when it's almost out. Looking down, I saw an oozy, dark brown stream of goo trailing behind the kitty on the floor in front of me.

"Sick!"

The poor beast had a terrible case of uncontrollable diarrhea.

"I don't really want to clean that up..."

While I stood at the sink washing my hands, I noticed a scraper-looking tool on the counter--diarrhea scraper, I thought to myself.

Taking extreme care to watch where I stepped, I evacuated the bathroom. I glanced one last time, before shutting the door, at the beautiful cat with diarrhea. "See ya soon little buddy pal..." I said, knowing that I'd be sharing my bathroom-time with it for the next two days.

When Grandma and Grandpa woke up from their naps, I told Grandma, "Grandma... You've got a cat living in your bathroom."

"Yes, I know. Isn't she a beautiful cat?" Grandma glowed with pride. "We caught it in a cage out in the backyard."

Grandpa remained silent, sitting in his big green chair, calmly reading something.

"Grandma... it's got diarrhea."

"Yes, we're treating it."

"How are you treating it?"

"With medicine!" She smiled and glance over at Grandpa. I glanced too. Grandpa raised an eyebrow and gave me the "I'm a doctor--not a veterinarian" look. I laughed.

Later that night, thoughts of how Grandpa must really love Grandma kept going through my head, as I stood over the sink and brushed my teeth, whilst the cat with diarrhea, who lives in the bathroom, rubbed against my legs--purr, squirt, purr, squirt, purr... squirt.

How To Smash Garlic

Grandma taught me how to smash garlic. She wouldn't let me touch it, though, because she didn't want me to smell like garlic later that night when there was a possibility I might be around cute boys. Or, at least, she hoped I'd end up hanging with some cute, respectable, "datable" gentlemen. According to Grandma, I needed to date more. Okay, so maybe I hadn't been on a date for a few months... Alright, it could've been seven, or eight; I lost track. That didn't mean I didn't have an enjoyable social life. Grandma wasn't convinced.

"I like a couple guys in my ward, but they've never asked me for my number! What am I supposed to do?" I asked the wise old woman, as she bit into a piece of penne pasta, testing to see if it was al dante. It must not have been, because she shook her head and tossed what was left of the piece back into the pot of boiling water.

"Jessie, you have to flirt with them." She grabbed up the giant chopping knife and hacked away at a big walla walla onion.

"Grandma! I do flirt! All the time."

"Well, clearly you need to kick it up a notch." Onions, garlic, and a splash of olive oil all went into the frying pan. It sizzled and sputtered and filled the house with a tantalizing aroma.

"I don't know if I can flirt any harder!"

"Oh, I know you can."

I laughed. She was completely serious. "I'm just not sure if I'm ready to start dating again."

"Yes you are." She tested another piece of pasta--it passed. Into the pot went the broccoli. "When Loren comes home from his mission, he isn't going to be attracted to a girl that doesn't have any fun. You need to show up at his homecoming with a string of good-looking guys tagging along behind you. If he sees you going out on dates with all these other guys... Oh, Jessie, he's gonna want you so bad!" She drained the pasta and broccoli and added it to the onions and garlic. I finished setting the table, and Grandma opened the window above the sink and yelled out, "Grandpa!"

From somewhere in the backyard we heard a, "Yo!"

"Dinner will be ready as soon as you get in here. And if you don't hurry, we'll start eating without you!" Grandma slid the window closed. Thwunk!

When Grandpa walked in we were sitting at the table. He sat down, and Grandma said, "After the prayer you're going to get up and put the hot dogs in the microwave and get the mustard."

"The mustard?"

"Yes, the spicy kind and the sweeter kind, whatever it's called."

"Honey mustard"

"Yes! That one."

I said the blessing on the food. I must not have spoken up very loudly, because there was a long silent pause after I said, "Amen." But soon Grandpa realized I'd stopped praying and said Amen loud enough for Grandma to hear and say Amen too. We settled into our seats, excited to try Grandma's new pasta recipe.

"Don't forget the mustard, Duane." Grandma said as she poured him a glass of strawberry-orange-banana punch. He got up, walked over to the refrigerator, studied the vast assortment of mustard bottles on the door of the fridge, picked out two kinds, and set them on the table.

"Did you get the hot dogs in the microwave? Three minutes." Grandpa shuffled back into the kitchen to zap the wieners. Grandma turned to me and smiled, "I get to boss him around, because he knows that if he doesn't help out, then I'll stop feedin' him!" We both laughed; Grandpa winked at me.

While we sat, eating our hot dogs and pasta, Grandpa and I discussed different styles of writing. Amid our conversation, Grandma piped in, "Why are you whispering?"

Grandpa and I gave each other a look, then he said, "Turn up your hearing-aid, Dear." She did.

"I called my Medical School back today." Grandpa announced.

"You did? When did you do that?" Asked Grandma.

"I did it when you were gone, so you wouldn't tell me what to say."

"Oh, of course you did."

"They asked me to be in charge of the 50-year reunion celebration."

"Oh, of course they did."

Then he went on to describe what they wanted him to do, and his past experiences with similar assignments. Grandma looked across the table at me and said, "He just loves doing things like this. But it's so hard to go to these reunions and see all these old people show up!"

Grandpa chortled, "Yeah! All these old geezers... limping in!"

"With white hair!" Grandma exclaimed. They both burst into laughter.

"And canes! Just limping."

"All bent over and overweight."

"Limping on in!" Grandpa wheezed.

Grandma sighed and said, "You can hardly recognize people. If you stare at them long enough, though, you start to see somebody familiar behind those old, wrinkled faces."

They smiled at each other, and laughed. I laughed too. Then Grandma said, "You know, when we die and they go through this house, they're going to say, these people were crazy! They'll go through my stuff and say, what was she thinking? She must have been crazy. Then they'll go through your stuff, Dear, and they'll say, what in the world was he thinking?! They both must have been crazy."

Grandpa winked at me.

Grandma reached into her ear and adjusted her hearing-aid.

I contentedly leaned back in my chair.

Just another evening at home with the geezers.

Single Cinderella

It's a pity to look this good and not have anyone to impress. This thought flirted with my mind as I applied the final layer of bright "retro red" lipstick. I posed dangerously for the full-length mirror. It's a shame... a real shame. The shimmering, magenta, mermaid gown hugged my hips and traced it's silver lining along my waist. Sequins snagged the light in my room and threw it in all directions, like millions of fireflies racing across the walls. Maybe my roommates are right. Maybe I should just go to the dance, even though my date fell through, and I'll be the only person there alone. But I'm crazy, so I went!

The dance was jiving! I had so much fun dancing with all my roommates and their dates, until the slow song came on. Then I was suddenly an outcast. Thrust to the cold, dark corner, alone and dateless and beautiful. How awkward.

After about the fifth slow song, I desperately ran out of the room and spotted a couple guys standing by the stairs in hoodies. They definitely didn't look like they were at the dance with dates (and if they were... I sure hope their dates were wearing hoodies too!). I walked up to them and asked, "Hey, do you guys have dates?"

"No..." They chuckled, giving each other "this chick is insane" eyes. "We're with the tech crew."

"Oh good! I don't have a date either. Come dance with me! I feel so awkward!" I grabbed the cutest one and started dragging him into the institute gym. When we reached the center of the dance floor, I set his arms up so they were in the correct position, and led the poor bedazzled boy around the dance floor. My frilly skirt swooshed and fanned out as I spun and twirled with all the grace of a pink, overgrown jellyfish--a jellyfish with a starry-eyed kid in a hoodie caught in her tentacles.

We danced a couple dances that way, and soon the pink, dancing jellyfish had lulled her prey into a googly, drooling trance. He stuck around, even during the hokey-pokey, kind of like a stray dog you feel bad for and feed, then suddenly you've adopted a new member of the family.

Then, the clock struck midnight (my ex-boyfriend showed up)! Of course, he had a date. It was too much--I fled! Without saying goodbye to my poor, makeshift date, I gathered my skirt in my arms and raced in three-inch heels home. When I reached our back yard, I collapsed into the hammock and stared into the sky. My life is just so weird.

After a good, cold hour in the hammock, my roommates came home with their dates, and we all went out for ice cream. I didn't want any, but they told me I would really be a frilly, pink, no-good, uncool, dateless loser if I didn't. So of course I did! We all squished into a booth and started feasting when my phone started ringing! An unknown number from California!

"Uh... Hello?"

"Hi! It's Miles! Don't think I'm a stalker! I got your number from some tall guy at the dance who said he knew you."

I couldn't believe it! He had gone around to everyone at the dance, asking if anyone knew the mysterious beautiful jellyfish, and it was my old boyfriend (the reason I fled so hurriedly in the first place) who gave him my number! No way! This just keeps getting better. After an awkward, weird conversation with Prince Charming, I said good night, and had an awful laugh with my roommates.

My life is so weird!

Oompa Loompa

After about two minutes of sitting on the stationary-bike seat, my sit bones were already screaming for mercy, and I hadn't even started peddling yet! The awful seat was hard, small, and narrow--the exact opposite of my rear end. I wasn't going to wimp out, though.

The instructor walked in. She was small and lean, with a short ponytail and a tight, blue tank-top. She took one look at me, perching awkwardly on my bike, and said, "You're new!"

Uh... Yeah, but is it that obvious? She walked over to the corner where my bike was located and started adjusting the height of my seat and the position of my handlebars. She kept measuring the angles of my legs and arms, raising a little here, sliding forward a little there. For some reason, she just couldn't adjust that bike satisfactorily.

I finally had to explain to her, "If you haven't already noticed, my body isn't proportionate." She stepped back and observed as I stretched out my stubby legs and arms for her viewing.

"As you can see here, my arms barely reach past my waist, which is too long for my legs, which start lower than you'd think and end sooner than you'd calculate normal. I guess I'm sorta shaped like an Oompa Loompa--those short, stubby folks that work in Willie Wonka's Chocolate Factory (you know the ones). In fact there may not be a setting on this bike that can accommodate my abnormalities."

I could tell the instructor accepted that dismal conclusion, because she sighed and said, "Well, the way we've got it now is pretty good. Are you comfortable?"

"Sure!" Woops, I lied. What are you thinking, lady?! Am I comfortable? My behind is throbbing, and there is no relief! My own weight is constantly smashing my sensitive sit-bones into a rock-hard sliver-of-a-seat! And you wonder if I'm comfortable! I still was NOT going to wimp out.

With one, last, quizzical glance at me (smiling awkwardly, spinning my stubby little legs around and around on the peddles, and giving her a trembling thumbs-up), she grabbed the stereo remote, leaped astride her stationary-bike and started class.

"Alright, Welcome to Spin class! Everybody find a light but steady pace and warm up for a few minutes."

Okay, I can do this. I peddled casually at the easiest resistance level. It was great! I was almost starting to forget about my sore bottom. Then I glanced around the room at everyone else. If we had been on real bikes, riding down the road, then I would have been left in a cloud of dust, miles behind the rest of the class. Everyone else's legs were churning and spinning so fast, all I could see were rippling quads and flying Nike swooshes going around and around in a blur. With a grunt I picked up my pace.

After we warmed up, the instructor had us all take our pulse for about five seconds.

"Now, after a good warm-up you should be at about an eleven or twelve. Start counting... now." She held two fingers to her neck and looked at the watch on her other wrist. After about five seconds, she said, "Stop. Were you up where you need to be?" She turned to me, "What did you get?"

I wiped about a pint of perspiration off my face, and between wheezing gasps for oxygen, I said, "Six... (gasp) teen..." Sweat continued to drip off the tip of my nose and drench my t-shirt.

"Well... You're a little high, but THAT'S OKAY!" She turned back to the rest of the class and started to explain the evening's workout. We were going to do an interval endurance ride. Sounded lethal to me.

The intervals corresponded with the music tracks. For one song we rode light and fast, then for the next song we cranked up the resistance and rode hard and steady. We did some songs standing up, some up then down then up again, and then back to light and fast. I tried the best I could and made it to the end (barely).

By the time we'd cooled down and dismounted our bikes to stretch out, my Redskin Weightlifting Club t-shirt was soaked and so was the backside of my pants. My legs were wobbly; I tried to stretch them best I could. The instructor came over and asked me what I thought of the class.

"Well... I haven't been on a bike since I was probably 12, so it was a little challenging, but just a little. I'm a weightlifter!" I told her, pointing to my t-shirt, trying to make myself appear less of a weakling. "I'm not used to the whole bike riding thing. I usually bench-press bikes. Motorbikes. That's probably why my arms are so stubbed down. Having short limbs is actually beneficial in the weight room, if you didn't know... Well, thanks for the class!" I turned and headed for the door, leaving a stream of sweat-drippings behind me.

She called after me, "Will you be back? It only gets better from here!"

I could only imagine what "better" might entail. Oh, what the heck! "Yeah! I'll be back!" And with that, I shuffled my aching buttocks out the door.

Flying in a Car

"We'll have to take my car. I have a hatchback, so we'll be able to fit the cello." I said, as I pulled out my keys and headed toward the old, red Nissan parked a few cars away. "And I just got my car stereo installed today! C'mon!"

My two roommates, Laura and Lindsey, and their friend, Brittney (the cellist) followed me to my car. It took some tricky manipulating and rearranging to fit the cello and violin in the back, along with the yoga mat, toolbox, and orange construction cone that were already back there, but we made it all fit. As I slammed the trunk door shut, I wisely proclaimed, "Life is just full of puzzles... and this one has just been solved. Fitting the cello in the trunk--done!"

Laur and Lindz crawled into the back seat through the door on the right, because the one on the left doesn't open from the outside, and Brittney sat in the front seat. I handed her my ukulele and my purse, and I plopped into the driver's seat, inserted the keys, turned, revved, plugged in my ipod, selected Owl City--"Fireflies"--and felt the rumble of my wonderful speakers come to life! It was so invigorating. Shifting into reverse, I zoomed out of the parking lot and locked in my coordinates. We were on a direct course to Wellsville.

The girls were excitedly talking about the ward talent show and singing to the music, as the wind from the open windows swirled their hair around their faces, because my car doesn't have air conditioning. Shifting gears up and down, turning, stopping, flying onward, I steered towards Main Street. Once we got out of town and on the highway, Laura piped up, "Hey guys! Everyone stick your arm out your window, and let's fly!"

That sounded great to all of us. We each extended an arm out our corresponding windows and took off.

"Up! Down! Up! Down! Up! Down!" Laura yelled in a steady rhythm, and we lifted and dropped our arms, like wings, in perfect unison. I accelerated slightly, and the beat of the music followed Laura's commanding instructions, pulsing precisely with the wings flapping out the windows. I swear the wheels lifted off the pavement. The cool, outside air rushed around my fingers, up my extended arm, inside my shirt-sleeve, and curved around my shoulders. My hair was crazy everywhere, and my teeth were dry, because I was smiling. If I hadn't been driving, I would have closed my eyes and imagined myself cruising in my car along the Milky Way, flying past stars and planets, a solar wind fiercely combing my hair with stardust.

Then we came to the Wellsville exit.

"Ready... BANK RIGHT!" Laura instructed, and like a precision jet-fighter, we performed the maneuver. The arms on the left raised, the arms on the right dropped, and the red Nissan floated on its wings to the right, soaring off in a new direction. We laughed at the awesomeness.

After a few more turns, a few more songs, and a stop sign or two, we landed comfortably in the parking lot of the Wellsville Tabernacle. The wings disappeared. The wheels settled heavily onto the blacktop. Our hair, frizzy and disheveled, lay dead and motionless on our heads. I coasted to a standstill in the first available parking spot and turned off the ignition. The growl from the engine and the reverberating music from the speakers died.

I yanked the key out, opened my door, and swung one leg out. But before I got out of my car, I turned back, and said, "Great flight, ladies."

Drops of Jupiter

Tonight Katie and I went to the USU Obervatory. I had to go for an assignment in my astronomy class (no idea why I'm taking this blasted class...), and Katie came along for emotional support and to look through a telescope.

When we got to the engineering building we tried to go up in this giant freight elevator in this random corner, but the elevator wouldn't go anywhere, so we had to walk up all the stairs to the roof! Now it may only have been three or four flights of stairs, but after all those kick-sets I did in the pool this morning, that many stairs proved quite the climb. Plus, I was wearing wranglers, which didn't help much either...

Finally, we reached the roof. It was dark. It was annoying. There was a blob of students huddled beside this big, important-looking dome dealio, and they were all pointing up at the sky (at what, I have no clue), and talking amongst themselves, writing notes on pieces of paper--I was so lost. I found the "instructor" and asked for some direction. He started explaining things to me, like Asmythes and angular size and using your hand to measure by degrees, I still have no idea! All of a sudden, I hate ASTRONOMY!

I just wrote down whatever I thought might get me some kind of grade and called it good. Then I turned to Katie and said, "Katie, I have a terrible confession to make... I am turning into a careless slacker in my old age."

She just told me that I was too young to be in any sort of old age, and that was that, and we decided to go explore inside the dome. We walked in, then up some winding stairs lit with strips of creepy red lights like the ones you'd see in movie theaters on the ground. Well, it was just dark and nobody was up there, and I started thinking of aliens and bigfoot and scary things, so I had to go back down.

We found the instructor and asked him if we could look at Jupiter through the telescope. He led us back up the creepy winding stairs, but this time he turned on the light so we could actually see. I felt like I was in a Star Wars movie, they opened the dome and focused the 100-year-old telescope on Jupiter. Katie looked through it first and said it was way awesome. I was next and so excited.

It was hard for me to bend over and see through my right eye, so I tried looking through my left eye, but my left eye has an astigmatism so I can't see very clearly through it alone. I did see Jupiter though! It was just a spot of light in the lens. Boring. No flashy swirls of colorful storms, no great red spot, nothing but a light. I might as well look up right now at the lightbulb in the ceiling! It was quite the disappointment.

So we left the observatory, said goodbye to this nice boy named Chris that we met and sorta made friends with (he said he's going to look for me in class tomorrow so we can sit together... ooh.) And that was it. Just a little light. A little lame light. Boring. I can't wait to go to that wretched astronomy class tomorrow and talk with cute Chris about how lame Jupiter turned out to be.

My Gorgeous Little Sister!

Got some awesome shots of Caitlin this weekend. I think she's beginning to realize how beautiful she is. It's about time! It was fun watching her bloom.

Lights in Space

I'm sitting in my favorite chair, in my favorite house, in the best place in the world right now--Grandma's house. When I am here, everything gets better. It's so easy to be happy, so easy to let the little unimportant trifles slide away. I'm staying here tonight.

Have I got the most amazing grandparents, or what? I have too much fun with them. Tonight there was a space shuttle that passed overhead in the night sky, at about nine-thirty. Grandma set her timers so we could go out at exactly the right time to watch it.

Grandma headed out the door ten minutes early, "I'm gonna grab my little sticks and go right now. I don't adjust to the dark very quickly these days." She reached in the coat closet and pulled out two long, ski-pole-looking things and began treking through the garage. Grandpa followed behind her.

After I finished checking to see who was on Facebook (9:30 is the "magic hour" to chat with the peeps, namely Mike, and he was online, but he didn't say hi or anything at all), I left my computer and headed out to see what my grandparents were so excited about.

Stepping out onto the driveway, I could see the silhouettes of two old people slowly walking side by side, one carrying a couple lawn chairs, the other a couple of "sticks." Above them, a vast, blackish-purple sky, freckled with stars, and planets, and swirling galaxies, twinkled and stretched onward forever and ever. They set up the chairs at the very end of the driveway, right next to the road--the best view. An occasional car zipped past, illuminating the old couple lounging in their lawn chairs by the side of the road, but Grandma and Grandpa didn't seem to notice, and the cars didn't seem to care.

Grandpa knew exactly where the shuttle would appear, the path it would take, how long we'd be able to see it, and just when it would flicker out of sight--he told me. So we sat in the dark (it was pretty chilly) and waited.

I saw it first. What seemed to be a star, brighter and steadier than the others, and moving upward. "Is that something?" I asked, and pointed out into the night.

"Yes!" Said Grandpa. "That's the shuttle!"
"Where? I don't see it." Grandma stood from her chair and leaned against the fence.
"It's the only thing moving up there." Grandpa pointed.
"Oh yes! Yes! Oh! What fun!"
"There's two of them!" Grandpa spotted the second, less brilliant light moving closely above the first.
"Two? What? Where? I don't see it." Grandma gazed harder.
"Hold your thumb out, it's about a thumb's width above the other one." Grandpa held out his thumb, measuring the distance. Grandma, in turn, gave the sky a big thumbs up, then looked back at Grandpa confused.
"A thumb's width?"
"Well, it's about a thumb and a half now."

Pretty soon the two lights were directly above us, cruisin' along, and Grandma finally spotted both of them. She kept exclaiming, "Oh! Oh! Isn't this exciting! Wow! Whew! Duane, are you enjoying this as much as I am?"
"Yes."
"Well, you're not saying anything!" Grandpa and I looked at each other and laughed. Grandma kept on going, "What would my father think of this? We're so lucky we get to see things like this! Oh! Oh ho ho! Whewee!"

The lights in space sailed deep into the Northeast, then, just as Grandpa described, they blinked out. The spectacle only lasted three or four minutes at the most, but I don't think I'll ever forget the experience. It wasn't just the two lights in space that made it so unforgettable, but the two old folks parked in lawn chairs at the end of their driveway, gazing up to the stars, so excited about a little traveling light in the sky. How simply wonderful.