Beth and Kirstin's Epic Weekend Adventure of Awesome

Brace yourself, my friends, for a tale so epical and wondrous that it needed a title that long. For this is not just a tale of a weekend. No, it is far more. This is the story of darkened canyons, cliffs, and strawberry blonds.

Friday morning there was a magical time where I was planning on going home. I was going to bake my godfather brownies for Valentines Day and pretend that holiday wasn't going on--it just tends to depress me when I think about it too much. But I got a feeling, you know one of those feelings, that it wouldn't be safe for me to go home. So, with a sigh, I let my parents and my ride know I was going to be staying back for the long weekend. I was expecting an affair of dullness and loneliness.

I was wrong.

Beth called me and told me she had been called into work, which I had expected. But then she told me that her parents had invited me to stay down in St. George with them for the weekend. If I went, I would get to enjoy the benefits of a big screen tv, a queen sized bed, and many other glorious things that words could describe in more sentences than I am willing to dedicate. There was one little problem: I would have to drive myself. The thought of driving Gandalf the hour it would take aaaaaall the way to St. George terrified me. I was just getting to the point of passable with the truck on the backroads: going on the freeway would be suicide. Around five o'clock I decided to take Gandalf for a spin to see how good a job I was doing that day at driving him. Suffice it to say, before long I was headed south with my laptop and dufflebag as my only company on the drive.

~To Be Continued~

Gandalf the White, My Roomie, and Me

So I have had a very bad string of luck with cars. Seriously, it is getting ridiculous. Ever since Kermit (my first Bronco) died two years ago, I have not been able to get a car to like me. The Love Boat (a Crown Victoria) has done the best so far, but I sold that over the summer in hopes of getting a new Bronco. Well, I did get a new Bronco... and it broke. Then I got another Bronco... and it broke.

Throwing my hands into the air, I declared that I would have nothing more to do with cars. But then Dad convinced me I needed to drive something. Well, being a silly thing I agreed to learn to drive stick and borrow his white 1960s Ford truck. He drove it down this past weekend, gave me lessons, and wished me luck.

Well, I have managed to practice driving almost every day this week (except yesterday when we had company over). Beth refuses to ride with me anymore, but today Kinsey agreed to go with me. So, we went rampaging across the countryside in the truck, which we have lovingly dubbed "Gandalf the White." Things actually went really well, right up until the moment I stopped at a stop sign at the top of a small hill. I did everything right, but it wouldn't move. Well, somehow the truck got moving, and then I looked down. I had been in third instead of second. Yeah, that was smart of me.

Kinsey and I got feeling brave, though, and decided we were going to Walmart. For those who don't know the area, going to Walmart involves driving through at least one light and going to the other side of town. Well, we decided to brave it. Chugging along, we took the backroads towards it. Along the way we waved at Rori and Jamie and all of the other girls from JC3, and tried to look as natural as possible going through the city. We made it, I'll have you know that. We were laughing so hard, though, that an elderly lady informed us that we were simply having too much fun. Kinsey and I just laughed and told her that we had just survived a harrowing trek in a vehicle I am still figuring out how to drive.

And yes, we made it home safely, too. Figured you all would like to know I haven't managed to kill us yet.

Just music

Some songs I feel... attached to this week.



"Angel of Mine" by Amanda Somerville



"First Time Ever I Saw Your Face" by Leona Lewis



"Breathe Me" by Sia



"Air and Simple Gifts" from the inauguration