Thankful for Thanksgiving

I miss blogging. I can never seem to justify writing a blog post when I have papers and quizzes to complete. However, I worked super hard this week so I am rewarding myself before beginning the next set of end of semester projects. I can't believe how quickly this semester has gone by.

GRATITUDE IS SAID TO BE THE MEMORY OF OUR HEART

-Joseph F. Smith

My heart will cherish the memories of last weekend.Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday. Maybe it is because I have so much to be thankful for. I'm so blessed with wonderful people in my life.
While Thanksgiving truly is my favorite, my favorite part of Thanksgiving happens Wednesday night. We call it Pie Night- it is the best tradition. You see if you eat the way my family eats you get full to the breaking point with Turkey and all appropriate sides during dinner. You might be able to muscle down one piece of pie an hour later. It is for this reason we hold pie night. Pie deserves to be the center of attention. We include an actual meal but many people skip over it and dive into the pie. Everyone brings several and you eat until you're sick. The left over pies are served the next day as well. If you don't celebrate Thanksgiving with a prelude of pies than in my opinion- you're doing it wrong.
The rest of the weekend was just as enjoyable as that pie night. We gathered for breakfast with the Frodsham family and dinner with the Marchants. I love those People more than I know how to express. For the last few days we headed to St. George and played played played. It was Coco's birthday! I hadn't seen her since August and about cried like she did when we pulled in around midnight. Some car trouble made us all grateful that everyone made it home to be together. It was fun to have Thomas over for all the fun. Leaving St. George was almost physically painful on Sunday. I miss living there.

 

It is a good thing He lives in Provo.

Even though the snow came down relentlessly on Monday it was one of my favorite days. Thomas's nephew was born so I ditched out on New Testament and tagged along to a fun filled day with the Rich family. Their family has been decorating a tree at the festival of trees since it opened. I had never been before and loved spending the day there meeting lots of family and taking part in such a fun tradition. They are good people.

The highlight of the day was watching Thomas meet that brand new baby. I've heard about this little guy since I met Thomas. He has loved him for a long time now. Meet Bentley Matthew Rich a beautiful baby boy who made it to the world in time to catch the Jazz game.

closet poet? probably not.

I am feeling extremely frustrated at the measly 486 words of my fiction piece for creative writing. I sat in the library and started it over and over again. I hated it and deleted it at least 4 times. Finally I gave up and went on a run hoping the fall air and probably the last bit of sunshine for a while would clear my head. Sadly inspiration didn't come on that run. When an idea (thanks to kira) started to appear on my word document I realized- of those 486 words not a signal one of them so far is made up.
Let's face it... making up stories isn't one of my talents. I have been nervous for this unit in my creative writing class all semester. I ate up the non-fiction like dinner on a fast Sunday. I gritted my teeth through the poetry assignments. I'm not a poet but I loved the reading my professor asked us to do in preparation for class each day. I didn't always find the confusing stanzas so incredible like many of my classmates and chuckled as my friend Matt whispered "do you think they would say the same things if I wrote that?" No Matt... if your name was E. E. Cummings you could write "red rabbit run" and they would say it was original and profound but until then, no.
And with that said here are a couple of my poems from class.

Inspired by Love Poem with Toast by Miller Williams

  

Love Poem with (Chocoloate Peanut butter and Banana) Breakfast Essentials Smoothie

Some of what I hope, I hope

to see shoot star wishes come true.

that I’ll get an A, that I’ll find a job I love,

that I’ll have a happily ever after.

The rest of what I hope, I hope

to come out on top.

that I’ll graduate without too much debt, that depression will stay where I left it,

that old wounds with new layers of skin heal completely.

With hundreds of forks in the road

shaping my journey through life,

I make decisions, the best I can, experimenting.

deciding what to eat,

deciding what to wear,

deciding who to love,

deciding how much or how little,

deciding to keep trying,

deciding when to quit,

deciding what time to set the alarm,

deciding to pick up an extra shift,

deciding what is appropriate,

deciding when to make the jump,

as I wonder and worry

not knowing what to expect,

as I evaluate the coming day,

as the to do list gets longer and the dreams get wilder,

I sip my breakfast drink and anticipate.

One of the many things I planned on but never got around to blogging about inspired this "imagistic poem"

The lights go down slowly,

as energy quickly rises.

Hundreds of strangers

brought together for a few hours to never see each other again,

standing shoulder to shoulder anxiously gazing into glaring lights.

Lights flash first blazing white then fire red,

blinding and mesmerizing.

Burning your eyes but holding your gaze.

Soaking in rhythmic drum beats

enchanting hips and heads to sway left then right.

The mood drops to something sentimental.

Stars twinkle from iPhone flashlights

as robotically arms go into the air.

Throats soar, feet aching

backs and necks sticky with sweat.

The final cord is struck in a fireworks of lights

and fan girl screams.

The lights go back up,

the energy  drops,

the arena empties.