Grandma

So, as I was trying to finish up some math homework, I started to think about things other than math.

I love the author of Frazz. I think Jef Mallett does a wonderful job of combining humor, wit, and true life. He really understands humans, I feel.

The particular strip on this page reminds me that even though Grandma K wasn't really "with it" the last couple of months, I don't have to choose to remember her that way. Or to remember looking at her glazed-over-eyes and blank face, checking for a pulse that I already knew wasn't there. I can remember the times....

...where I watched her with young eyes, my head not quite taller than the workspace table in the kitchen. She would make her wheat bread, and knead it with such ferocity, pat it into a ball, pick it up, and SLAM it down on the table with a loud bang. Sometimes I'd tease her by sticking my head up the back of her shirt, and she would laugh and kick me out of the kitchen...

...the time where mom and dad went somewhere for "a long time" as I would say, because I don't know exactly. Probably a week or something. But she came to our house and babysat us for that time. It was a fun week, sometimes cuddling with her in my parents' bed at night, watching the lightning storm that raged outside...

...when Grandma and Grandpa had their coffee (or pero, in Grandma's case), Grandma would get out the tea set for me. The beautiful teapot with little China glasses. She would fill it with delicious hot chocolate. Sometimes I got to eat cookies with this. It was one of my favorite times during the visit...

...Sleeping over. We always seemed to sleep over on Friday nights. Saturday morning, she would make the most delicious french toast (I thought) and orange juice. Then we'd head off to the store, as always. Sometimes it was Ream's, and sometimes it was Food4Less...

...The time that everyone was backpacking, and Grandma was babysitting Lindsey's evil Parakeet. (I always thought it was evil because it landed on me and started climbing up my neck, grabbing it with its beak, pull itself up, grab some more skin in its beak and pull its body up more...everyone always asks why didn't I just flick it off of me. Well, I didn't want to hurt it and make Lindsey mad at me!!) Anyhow, Grandma was taking a bath, Grandpa went outside, and I was left with the bird. Somehow I accidentally let it out, it flew to behind the front door. Being a young lass, I imagined Grandpa coming in the front door, and the bird flying outside, never to be seen again, and getting yelled at and punished by EVERYONE. So I ran downstairs and hid under the round table in the extra bedroom. Five minutes later, there was commotion and hustle and bustle and everyone shouting "NATALIE!" They even came to that room and shouted my name. Tears were rolling down my eyes. The bird definitely flew out. Now they're really mad at me! After a good 10-20 minutes, I finally stopped hugging my knees, and came out to be punished. Grandma was SO relieved. Grandpa was outside, so she ran out to let him know I was safe. He came back swearing and mad, but Grandma just hugged me and asked me what was wrong. I explained. The bird was no where to be seen. But after looking behind the front door (which was now open), he was just hanging out there, and the bird was safely put back into his cage...

...Grandma always has the sweetest smile when you came to visit. She was always happy to see and get company, especially after Grandpa died...

Grandma, thank you so much for all the good memories. I love you.

Not quite sure...

So I have a recurring dream. I'm still not quite sure what to make of it, so here goes:

I'm at a huge swim meet, and I managed to make it to the finals, the final heat, lane three! (Lane 4 usually has the fastest person, second fastest in lane five, third fastest in lane three) So I'm in a very good position. I for some reason get very stressed out that night, and realize I'm late to my event. I warmed up, haven't managed to get in my racing suit. I'm in my baggy old practice suit, swimming against some of the best swimmers in the world. As I stand behind the blocks, stretching, getting ready for the race of a lifetime, I look up only to realize the race has already started. I look at my lane, and it's empty. Definitely where I should have been. Instead of breaking down with disappointment, anger, or sadness, I only feel one emotion: intense and overwhelming relief. I curl up into a ball and sigh with contentment, thinking the only thing that will happen now is that Coach will kick me off the team.

Interesting. Maybe I could use this for my creative writing class somehow.

Post-surgery (and I mean post as in about a hour after coming home from said surgery)

I'm only going to write as much as I possibly can with this darn nerve blocker I have. (My arm is dead, feeling the same sensation you feel in your mouth when your dentist gives you that shot to deaden feeling in your mouth. Mine will last another 48 hours, since they sent a bottle of the stuff with me. Yay.)

Surgery. What to say about it? I don't remember much. They put a nerve blocker in my neck area, and now I can't currently feel anything on my left shoulder/arm below my neck. They asked me 15 minutes later to hold my arms out in front of me. My right arm did the task while my left arm rolled feebly off the bed. Ha ha ha!

Then I was in the operating room before I knew it. Last thing I remember there was taking nice deep breaths through an oxygen mask.

Not sure if it was a dream or real, but I saw bright operating lights, someone saying "she's coming to! We need...." then darkness again.

Next thing? In a dimly lit room, someone saying "Hello there! What's your mom and dad's names?"

"Richard and Vickie Edge."

"Good. You feeling awake?"

"Naw, kind of loopy. Like the times I rode a bus home from a trip, didn't get home til 4 in the morning."

For some reason I yanked the wires off my body. Then admitted to the nurse what I did. She took care of it. And I think we talked a lot after that. I remember constantly yanking the oxygen mask off my face so I sounded more clear. She finally just took it off. I was happy. And I remember drinking a lot of water, and feeling like I needed to go to the bathroom real bad.

Well, now I'm home and quite awake. Wow. Drugs can make one real loopy. I wonder what else slipped out of my rattling tongue when I was talking to the nurse.

Thank you mom for the lovely jamoca (spelling?) shake from arby's. SO good. Going to go finish it now.

Comment glitch fixed.

Writing ex. 1

“Come on, I just want to smile a real smile for once! Let me use it! Don’t shake your head. Just hand them over. I’m determined I will have it whether you like it or not. You know I don’t have my own because I can’t afford it. I spend my money on worthy causes like lottery tickets and cat food. Cats are real angels, and they are my only friends. Come on, give them to me! If you give them to me, I promise I’ll be quiet about it from now on. I just want to use them for a picture! Why won’t you be a decent person and hand them over? It’s not like you use them anyway. You’re not smiling! You’re not even using them right now!” Clarise was sick of all the jabbering. She reached into her mouth and gave her friend her dentures.

Writing ex. 2

Stark white fully describes the house on Paradise Street. Everything is neatly trimmed, nothing out of place, except for the little blemish in the southeast corner of the yard. A pair of brown eyes peered out of the window, staring at the flawed corner, puzzled.
Mom tells me that the sun is bad. It can give me skin cancer and turn me all brown. That’s why I don’t look out the windows often, and that’s why the blinds are always down, except for when I’m peeking out the window. I like peeking out the window. There’s so much out there! I close the blinds. The house is white inside. White paint, white carpet, white ceiling, even white couches! Mom says its that way because white is clean. My favorite spot in the room is the white couch. It’s in the middle of the room, surrounded by the air filters. They hum. Mom tells me they get rid of all the bad bacteria and dust that makes people sick. I hear being sick isn’t fun. I wonder what it’s like. I don’t ever go outside because there’s a lot of bad stuff in the air, not to mention the sun. Plus I could fall and get a bloody scrape. That wouldn’t be fun would it?
I see kids outside all the time. They must have terrible mothers. Moms don’t let their kids get sick or hurt. They should stay inside. They could DIE! But none of them have died yet. Maybe the blonde girl will. She’s always jumping up and down, with a rope swinging around. Maybe it’ll swing up and choke her to death. Or maybe that brown haired kid. He’s always riding this thing with two wheels. Maybe it’ll flip him over and EAT him.
Outside in the corner of the yard there’s a new weird creature living there. It was never like that before. Only green fuzz on the ground. It’s big and brown, and it has this mouth full of drool. I can’t figure out where its eyes are. I want to see what it is, but that means I would have to go OUTSIDE. If I go out there, I could DIE. But it’s so strange, so compelling. It has this weird scaly fur. I MUST see what if feels like. Mom’s in the kitchen making carrot cookies. If I was ever to go outside, this would be the time to do it!
I opened the blinds all the way. My eyes hurt so bad. The sun is nasty evil. I slowly opened the window. It was really loud and creaky. I don’t think it’s ever been opened before. Air rushed in! I’m already poisoned by the bacteria and pollen! I have no choice, but to proceed. Jumping out the window quietly was easier than I thought. The green fur felt so cool. Spiky, and it smelled like something I never smelled before. It smelled like...like…God. The creature's mouth is still gaping. I wonder if it’s DYING.
I slowly approach it, because I don’t want to scare it off. It doesn’t even twitch. Standing right next to it, I see that it’s already dead. There was nothing I could do to save it. Must’ve been that nasty bacteria that done killed it. I poke at its skin. My finger gets stuck inside, letting out a soft popping noise when I withdraw it. I see my reflection in the drool. Soon my face gets bigger and bigger and bigger… and I am in the creature, the creature is in me! Soft cool wet fur surrounds me and I it. I start having a hard time breathing. Almost as if I’m hyperventilating. But it feels so good! If this is what dying from bacteria and germs is like, then it isn’t so bad. Why am I having breathing problems? And why do they feel so darn good?
“Fanny! You get out of that mud this instant! You’re going to get sick and die! And we don’t want that, do we? And why are you laughing so hard?” My mom is really red. Maybe if I get some of this creature fur on her, she’ll hyperventilate too. I sling a mudball at her. Splat! It hits her right in the face. And I keep hyperventilating with loud “ha ha ha ha ha’s.”

Red Bike

So I've been looking around for a couple of weeks on ksl.com classifieds, trying to figure out what a good deal would be for a bike that I want to ride around campus, just a simple commuter bike. Being inexperienced and unsure, I asked Dad what he thought, and he found one after maybe 10 minutes of looking around! We drove up to Layton, looked at it, kicked the tires, and deemed it a good deal. So now I have a lovely red bike to ride around on campus! I'm very excited!!!

...Until I realize I get a week of having fun on it. Then I get my shoulder surgery on the 17th, then I can't really get on it for a few weeks. DANG.

My yellow bike with red writing is named "George." (Because it reminded us of the "Curious George" book covers) This bike is red. With dark blue writing. I'm trying to think up a name for it. Any suggestions?