"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."
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
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.
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.
Monday, September 21, 2009
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.
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
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.
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.
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