Bubble Bath

That evening, I was not motivated at all. Katie sat on the couch, working on homework, while I flapped around the living room, not quite sure what to do with myself. I was craving chocolate. I had to have chocolate! Finally, for the sake of my own survival, I pulled out of my cupboard some oatmeal, oil, sugar, cocoa, and peanut butter. Combining my ingredients in a pot, I attempted to make a form of chocolate no-bake cookies.

The cookies turned out quite delicious, even though there were some random hard chunks. At least, they were yummy chunks--like toffee. I ate about five cookies. Katie only ate two. There was one left. Neither one of us could tackle it.

Sitting on the couch, in a cookie coma, groaning and holding my stomach, I turned to Katie and said, "I'm going to take a bath. Maybe if I get clean and relaxed, I'll be able to accomplish something." With that, I heaved myself off the couch and toward the bathroom. I stripped down and took all the bobby pins out of my hair. Before I filled the tub, I wanted to brush my teeth, but my toothbrush was in my room. Wrapping my towel around me, I tiptoed to my room.

Suddenly my phone started ringing in the front room. Still in just my towel, I ran in and picked it up off the couch.

"Jess! What are you doing?! Where are your clothes?" Katie sat there, appalled at my nakedness.

"My phone! It's Loren!" I screamed. Katie screamed. "What do I do? This is really awkward! Oh well, he'll never know." I screamed again and took a deep breath, "Hello?"

Katie giggled, and I walked back into my room

"Hi, Jessie. How was your day?" Loren's voice asked through the phone.

"Oh, it's been an alright day. How was yours?" I tucked my towel around me a little tighter.

"I had a good day. Hey, I'm up on campus right now, are you available?"

"Uh... I can be."

"Want to go for a walk?"

Panicking, I ran my fingers through my messy hair-do and glanced at my clothes, in a pile, on the floor by my feet. "Sure. Uh, yeah... I'd like that."

"Great! I'll be there in like twenty seconds!"

My eyes popped out of my face, and I almost lost my towel. "Oh, okay. See ya..." I hung up the phone and ran out to the front room. "Katie!!! He's coming over right now! He'll be here any second! And I'm naked! What do I do?! Aaaah!"

Katie laughed uncontrollably as I banged around in my towel, phone in hand, screaming desperately.

"Jessie, just go get dressed right now!" Katie stood up and pushed me toward my room. I threw on a shirt and pair of jeans. When I walked out, Katie said, "Jess! What happened to the skirt you were wearing before?"

"I don't have time to put my tights back on! This'll be fine." I told her.

"No. You have to wear the skirt." She threw the skirt and tights in my face and shut me in the bathroom. I lost the jeans and wrestled on the tights, screaming and grunting as I struggled.

I stood in front of the mirror, trying to fix my mess of hair, zipped up my skirt, and took a deep, calming breath. Then I walked out, and there stood Loren, smiling. I blushed and held my jeans behind my back. "Hi..."

Later that night, after I returned from my walk with Loren, I attempted once more the bath I wanted so badly. I asked Katie if she wanted to take a bath with me, "We'll just get in our swim suits, and I have some bubble bath; it'll be so funny!"

"No, Jess... I have to do my math." She secretly really wanted to.

"C'mon, Katie! Pleeeeease!!!"

She rolled her eyes and set her math book down, "Fine! Okay..."

I laughed, "Yes! You can wear my pink swim suit."

We donned our bathing attire and began filling the tub, adding a generous amount of bubble bath. Sitting cross-legged, we fit perfectly, the two of us, in the tub. I shampooed my hair and styled it into a lathery mohawk. Katie squealed with laughter and clapped her hands. Next, I used shampoo to shoot her hair out sideways. We splashed and giggled and took turns scrubbing each other's scalps.

Laura, my roommate, walked in, "What is going on?!" She bent over, laughing. "What in the world... you two are hilarious." She stood there and laughed as Katie and I rubbed bubbles all over our bodies. Then my other roommate, Annalynne, came in with her camera and took pictures of the two crazy cousins in the tub.

I turned to Katie, pouring water on her head with my hands, smiled and said, "Cousins who bathe together..."

"...Stay together!" Katie and I shouted in unison.

It Is Something Else--Growing Old

Courtney and I helped Grandma chop vegetables for the stir-fry. Katie slept. When she finally woke up, we told her that she had to do all the dishes now, because she didn't help with the meal preparation. Grandma told me to cut the onions a certain way, because "That's the way the Asians do it." She cooked the chicken first, then the vegetables. I sat on the low counter by the stove and watched, but had to move when the oil in the pan started spitting on me.

Once the stir-fry, rice, chow-mein noodles, and an array of condiments sat on the table, we all sat up, anxious to eat.

"Shall we have family prayer?" Grandpa said, and we slid out of our chairs and onto our knees. "Grandma doesn't kneel. We kneel for her." Added Grandpa. I smiled. Grandma folded her arms and bowed her head, sitting in her chair, and we prayed.

Dinner was fabulous. Aunt Kim joined us soon after we started eating. I had two helpings, which was probably too much, but it was so good. Grandma was so excited about all the vegetables we used in the stir-fry. She told us, "Grandpa doesn't like to eat his vegetables. I make sure to feed him two servings of vegetables for every meal." Grandpa glumly speared a droopy broccoli tree and ate it obediently.

"Even breakfast?" Kim asked. We laughed at this.

"No," Grandpa answered, "She only feeds me one serving of vegetables for breakfast." He winked at Grandma, and she threw her hands up and laughed.

"This man never eats enough vegetables..." Grandma told us.

"Boy, it's sure nice to reach the age when people stop telling you what to eat..." Said Grandpa, "I hope to get there someday." He smiled, and his joke made us all clap our hands and hug our sides with laughter.

"When we go to the Senior Center for lunch, all those folks wonder why Dr. Kerr isn't eating his vegetables." Grandma informed us.

"Those aren't the people I'm referring to." Grandpa winked again.

Aunt Kim produced a bag of chewy, cherry, chocolate candy, and passed it around the table. Pretty soon our mouths were watering and chomping on delicious cherry goodness.

"Mm... Those are so morish!" Grandma exclaimed, closing her eyes.

"What's morish, Grandma?" I asked.

"It means you just gotta have more." She reached back in the bag and popped another one in her mouth, closing her eyes to enjoy the morishness.

Kim handed Katie a couple early birthday presents, while we finished our morish cherry chocolates. One present was a cute, uplifting, girl book, and the other was a stylish knit headband with a flower on the side. Grandma loved the headband, and thought it was really something. She asked Katie if she could try it on. Katie handed it over, and Grandma slipped it on, over her silver hair.

"Oh! I could wear this to church! How does it look?" She smiled and poofed her hair with her hand.

"It looks great, Grandma. Way hot!" I said, and Kim handed Grandma a small mirror. Grandma held it out and stared at her reflection. At first she laughed, then her smile softened, growing slightly melancholy. She brought a hand to her face, tracing the lines and wrinkles, fingering the gray hair.

"Try tucking your hair behind your ears." I suggested.

She tucked her hair behind her right ear, "Hearing aid..." she smiled and tucked the other side, "Oh look, another hearing aid!" We all chuckled, and Grandma set the mirror down and handed the headband back to Katie. "Let me tell ya, it is something else--growing old..." Then, with a twinkle in her eye, she added, "But it's better than the alternative. I'll take getting old over dying any day!" Grandma smiled at Grandpa, and he smiled back. We laughed and passed the bag of morish chocolates around one more time.

When Grandma Kissed Her Cat

Grandma refused to name here cat "Squirt," which was my original suggestion. She told me it was too graphic of a name for her. Graphic indeed... Only graphic after I exploited the poor thing's bowel issues to the entire world. Instead, she named the cat Mazie. Crazy Mazie!

Mazie lives outside now--her days in the bathroom are over (thank goodness). She likes to sit in the window-sill, looking in on Grandma's sink, while Grandma cooks in the kitchen or does the dishes. We can bring Mazie inside, as long as we hold her and keep her from running around. I like to sit in my favorite chair and play with Mazie the crazy cat. Rarely is she content to merely sit and enjoy a warm lap and friendly stroking hand--she always wants to play. She chases my hand around, batting at it with her paws and chewing on my fingers. When Mazie gets rough, Grandma says, "Jessie, you just gotta tell her to play nice. She does speak English, you know!"

I remember the first time she said that. After claiming the cat's brilliant linguistic capabilities, Grandma scooped Mazie up off the couch, and smacked a giant grandma-kiss right into the cat's face. Then she snuggled the kitty into her neck, smiling like a schoolgirl.

I don't know why, but it hit me so tenderly, when Grandma kissed her cat--she loves that cat. After seeing how much love Grandma felt for her cat, I can hardly comprehend the love she has for other people, and me. She must really love me.

Grandma will tell everyone that ever since the day she got married, she has been "takin' care of folks," cooking for people, and serving people in her home. This is absolutely the truth. Grandma and Grandpa both know that every weekend somebody will drop in. Whether it's a traveling or visiting family member, or just some lost soul from the freeway. Anyone who shows up at Grandma's house is welcome, and will most likely get a meal. That is my Grandma.

Grandma taught me how to really love a cat.

Grandma taught me how to really love a friend.

Grandma taught me how to really love a stranger.

I bet that Mazie likes the window-sill above the sink, because she loves Grandma, and that's where Grandma is--in the kitchen...

...takin' care of folks.

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!