A Letter to Future Me

A few weeks ago I was asked if I would write a letter to future me, what I would write. So I did, and this is what came out of it.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dear Future Me,

Hey. Hi? What’s it like over there? How is it going? Wait, don’t tell me. I’d rather figure it out as I go along. 

I hope you’re doing great. That nothing’s gone terribly wrong. 

I hope you’re still all the parts of myself that are really important. Not that maybe you’ve gotten eye surgery so you don’t have to worry about glasses anymore, or that maybe your legs have stopped being allergic to EVERYTHING (although that would be nice), but the really important parts. 

I hope you’re still sweet and kind and gentle. It’s not a bad thing, and you know it isn’t a bad thing to be so, but for some reason, (you remember) I spent a long time thinking that it was bad to be that, and that I had to be fierce and mean and sometimes justly cruel. And it hurt. I hope you haven’t gone back to thinking like that. You don’t have to be fierce and mean and rip everyone’s throats out when they don’t agree with you. You got a lot further with becoming friends with people when you were sweet and kind than when you wanted to just tease them and torture them. 

Not to say that being fierce and mean is bad. It’s sometimes good, especially when you’re standing up for the important things. Family. Friends. People. 

You can’t defend your ideals and be mean, Carina. You can only defend people like that, and only against physical threats. 

I hope you still love people. Even the ones that you want to hate. You and I have forgiven people of the most horrendous acts, and it’s okay. Nobody deserves your hate and anger. Not even you. Just let it go, and I promise it’ll get better. It’ll take time, but if you work hard enough, it’ll happen. 

Loving others makes you a lot happier than anger. No matter how righteous and justified, and yes, you can choose whether or not to stay angry. Don’t be offended by something that wasn’t meant to offend. No. You can’t do that. Don’t stay offended by something that wasn’t meant to offend. Deal with it and move on. 

Anger and hatred are poison. You can’t help people with that. You have to love them. 

And you’re gonna mess up. It’s only natural to get angry and mad and offended when people do something that just clashes with you, especially if they’re a close friend and it really is just something wrong. 

It’s okay. It’s okay to be angry, it’s okay to feel things. You’re- we’re- human. If all you feel is happiness and rainbows and sunshine, you need to check up on that. 

This is getting really long. I may be young and naive, and full of hopeful ideals, but I hope you proved me right and managed to live up to at least most of those ideals. I hope you still do. I hope you work hard, play fun, and create things with all your might and soul.

I love you. In as hopefully normal a way as it is a past shade of a person can love the future hope. We’ll be good. It’ll be great.

Love,

Me 

Beauty Blogging for Tropical Climates

I happened to be on Facebook today and I saw this request that one of my friends had posted on her status update. It seemed very reasonable, after all, living in Hawaii brings with it a lot of humidity and weather that doesn't really lend itself to having long luxurious sleek hair or makeup that won't melt off.
(Case in point: I left my air-conditioned work this morning to step outside and immediately my glasses fogged up and my phone in my hand became so wet because of condensation I feared for its life.)

Now, Stephanie, I am not a beauty blog. Far from it. In fact, this blog has been awfully, terribly dead recently. But in the spirit that gets me writing sometimes, I shall attempt to do this for you, at least what I can from my limited perspective and experience.

Let's look at your questions here. You want to know how you can look good

• without having makeup melt off your face
• without being restricted to one hairstyle because of heat and convenience
• with stylish yet comfortable clothes designed for both wrestling with a baby and looking totally fab

Disclaimer: everything I'm about to give you is just what I do, so take that as you will.

Beauty Protip 1: Wake up. Or don't wake up, if you happened to not get any sleep last night. But once you wake up, I want you to stretch. Yeah, like that. Just straighten your back, lengthen your arms, yawn a little. Then, I want you to remember that you want to look beautiful in this terrible, terrible heat. Go to your mirror. Look at your face. It's beautiful, isn't it. Look at that nose, those eyelashes. No one else has eyelashes quite like you have eyelashes. They're gorgeous, just like you are. 

Now, I want you to look at your beautiful, beautiful face, and say, out loud, "I am a cutie patootie." Because not only are you a cutie patootie, but you are adorable as heckie. 

But, that is not your goal here today. You want to be able to wear makeup that won't melt off your face. So, bearing in mind that you are the most wonderfully beautiful person on the face of the planet, look at your face. Now, in my very not-intensive research, I have discovered that most, if not all, makeup easily melts off your face in extreme heat, so your options are either to work and live in constant air conditioning or not wear makeup. 

"Carina," you will say, "that's not what I'm looking for." 

I want you to go back and look at your cute face and tell me you need makeup to cover it up. (Sometimes, yes, you do. I do too. Makeup is wonderful and fabulous.) But some days you don't. And on days when you know that, don't wear makeup! Or, if you still want to look even more fab than you already are, just wear minimal makeup. Perhaps just put on a dazzling display in the eye department and wow everyone with those gorgeously done windows to the soul. Or wear bright red lipstick and nothing else (actually, please wear clothes as well, I would not like to see you get arrested for indecent exposure). That way, you can look fab, with minimal results in the melting-your-face-off-this-is-not-an-Indiana-Jones-movie department.

So, wear whatever you feel like, be it all-out makeup or nothing but bare skin and beautiful flaws and blemishes or a compromise between melting and dazzling.

Beauty Protip 2: After you've decided what to do with that perfect face of yours, it's time to turn to spend some much-needed time with your flowing locks. As you contemplate the beauty in the light reflecting off a few strands and the colors that change and exist (try it, hold a lock of your hair up to the light and look at it, it's stunning) you have to do something with it. By all means, leaving it down and flying freely is totally an option, but here, as it is so hot, and also very windy, with the trade winds (I've never been fond of hair blowing in my face) leaving it down may not be the most attractive option.

But, because of the wonderful versatility of hair, you are not limited at all to just a bun to get that hair out of your face. Here's a short list of hairstyles that may or may not be just as labor intensive as a bun but will also look major cute on your amazing head.

• Braids (French, Dutch, pigtails, milkmaid, a really long rope down your back). There are so many different kind of braids, and most if not all of them serve the dual purpose of getting hair off your neck and out of your face and looking really cute. Also, braids don't get snarled easily and stay clean, so if you sleep right, you could wear the same braided hairstyle for more than one day if you so chose. 
• Classic high-top ponytail. Just pull your hair up as far as you can without it actually being on top of your head, put it in the elastic, and let your hair waterfall down gloriously. If you are not blessed with curly hair already, feel free to curl it if you wish (and have time) for a gorgeous mass of waterfalling ringlets. Always classy. 
• Clips (of varying size and compostition and design). You can do amazing things with clips, whether its getting all your hair very messily and easily off your neck and just holding it back to just holding part of your hair up if you want to leave some down. Clips are some of my favorite things. 
• Cutting all your hair off. Obviously this is an extreme new hairstyle, but getting a bob or pixie cut or even just slicing off a few inches will help you feel better and your hair be healthier and lighter. It depends on your hairdresser and what you feel like you would look good with. 

I'm sure this is not all the things you could possibly do with your hair, but, as I said, it's a short list. Vary it from day to day, and don't feel bad if you do happen to wear a bun three days in a row. They're cute. Just like you.

Beauty Protip 3: I actually really don't have a very good idea on what to do with clothes and heat, given as if I could get away with it, I would wear minimal clothing, if clothing at all. (It's really hot here when the trades die, okay? Also, less laundry. Who wouldn't want that?)
What I do know is that material like cotton is very cool and you would want to go for that, and it's also very comfortable and soft for babies. In my experience and memory which I'm really hoping is correct, synthetic materials tend to gather heat and get sticky and not fun. So if you can, if you remember, try keeping an eye out on that when you buy clothing.
Also, I like wearing skirts. It's not a thing everyone can get away with (I'm looking at people of the male gender who for some reason think pants are better) but when you can, they're both cool and comforting and cute and adorable and an instant dress-up sensation. I prefer long, flowy, almost gypsy-esque skirts, but that's what looks good on me and what I find comfortable. (Warning: with long skirts and elastic waistbands you do face the possibility of a baby pulling your skirt off, which may or may not be fine with you.)
Shorts are also nice, but again, it's clothes. To each their own, with their own unique styles, their own budget, and their own time. Wear what's comfortable, and if anybody decides to give you grief for it, eat them.*



Finally, decide that you are pretty. Look in the mirror at the beginning of the day, and tell yourself that you are pretty. Because no matter how you do your hair, how much or little makeup you wear, or what clothes you deck yourself out in, if you have not made the decision that you are pretty, it will be harder to convince yourself of that fact. Once you have decided you are pretty, no one can take that from you. And if you think you're the only one that thinks you're pretty, you are wrong. Because I think you are not only pretty, you are a crown jewel in beauty and your smile could bring world peace. Even if you don't think you're pretty yet, I think you're pretty, and you can come and read this every day and it will still be true. So go out, brave the heat, and enjoy your life.














~
*Don't actually eat them. I will not be held responsible for your actions if you decide to take my words into your own hands. Cannibalism is never recommended, even if the person you are about to turn into a three-course meal is being very rude. You are not Hannibal. Your name does not rhyme with cannibal (I hope) and even if it does you still should not eat people. People are not food. 

A Walk at the Beach

Sorry for the long absence guys. Have some descriptive prose to make up for it. 

The waves splashed over my bare feet, a feeling of blessed coolness accompanying the salt water. My feet sank a little in the warm sand, individual grains finding their way between my toes. I pinched the bridge of my nose, squinting into the bright afternoon sun, reflecting off the pale sand and sparkling in the playful waves. The wind caressed me, finding ways to touch every inch of my exposed skin, running its silky touch along my salt-tinged body. But with that soft touch comes a taste of fire, as that same wind whips my loose hair around and catches it in my chapped lips, forcing me to temporarily eat the gritty strands. I frown, pulling hair out of my face, my deft fingers desperately trying to get it into some semblance of order. My hair, defiant and unruly, refuses to comply, something my fingers, after all their years of experiences, cannot fix. Another wave crashed over my feet, and I am startled. 

#poweroutagesaga

So, earlier this week I, and most other people, got an ominous email from my school saying there is this thing they have to do every year (or every other year, I forget) that involves taking all the power over all of campus and shutting it down so they can do some stuff. Oh, and also that it hadn't been done in the past 35 years.

However, with wanting their new buildings to get safety approval, this must be done. So they set the date for midnight Sunday morning still around 5 pm, no one would have power, except for those places that would have generators for protecting food and such.

This is the saga of what happened today. My morning started out just fine, getting ready to go to church with just sunlight to guide me.

Okay, maybe not so fine. It was first thing in the morning, I think I can forgive myself for not realizing that it takes electricity to toast bread. At least I knew better than to use the stove. My morning continued. 

Me, noting on things it would be nice to have. Little did I know...

For whatever reason, the school hadn't actually turned off their wifi, although I should point out that the school's wifi to my house sucks and it didn't really mean I could do anything, so I remained on my phone most of the time. 

I continued getting ready for church, feeling confident enough in myself to invest in a selfie:

I got complimented on that outfit. Elegant. Made my day. Anyway, after that, I went to church and then there was a worldwide training meeting that I attended with my father and brother, which had it's own drama: 

So we missed a good ten minutes of that while they struggled to get the communication back online. 

Then I came home, ready for some rest, a nap, and hopefully not long waiting until the power came back on. The novelty was slowly beginning to wear off. 

So confident was I that the power would arrive soonish around the time that they advertised, that I invested my meager laptop battery power to our entertainment. Little did I know. 

Still I had no fear. After enjoying the movie and wishing for maybe the millionth time that Starfleet actually existed, we ate dinner. Cleaned up (washing dishes in cold water isn't fun) (or very hygenic feeling) and went outside, where I jammed on my guitar for a bit before we all headed up for a walk. The power still wasn't back, and it was well past 5 pm. I was starting to fear that the power wouldn't come back on before night hit. 

I was very irritated. The power was gone, I had a headache from the fumes from the generators parked just outside, my batteries were all dying, and I couldn't charge them like I had planned BECAUSE THERE WAS NO POWER, and I couldn't really sit down and try reading to relax because the light was quickly going. I even asked for a candle for my room, so I could have light, but then I was bitterly reminded of the fact that open flames aren't allowed. Oops. 

So I sat in my room, sulking, trying to finish my book before the light completely went, when I heard whooping from the other houses. And it was... joyful, something I hadn't felt in the past few hours since I finished watching Star Trek. Hope surged through my veins, as I turned to look out my open window. Indeed, my neighbors' lights were on, and I quickly went and turned on my own. Glorious light filled the room, and I screamed and shrieked, joining the cacophony with my neighbors, all my tension released with electricity returned to my life. 

1 year of this

Wow, guys. It's been one year. One year of blogging and posting things and going for some stretches without posting anything, but it's been a year. Lucky for me, this Father's Day last year, I was bored and wanted something to do, something that was still writing but wasn't stories or anything super long.

And I have throughly enjoyed all this time. I've enjoyed the reactions from you guys, I've enjoyed having the ability to put my thoughts out here, I've enjoyed getting to tell my story. So thank you all for sticking with me and my horrible titles (I really have always had a hard time coming up with titles forever) and some terrible blog posts and some really good ones. Thank you all so much.

Peaches.

Glee is eating peaches with my little sister, our faces inches from each other while we both bite into our half of the peach at the same time, foreheads knocking. Her face smiles while she chews, and I laugh at her expression, her adorable face scrunched up, framed by bright red braids that still attempt to curl into ringlets. We go in for another bite.

It's been a long time since I've eaten fresh peaches, several months at the least. I don't remember. It's been even longer since I've eaten peaches that weren't a horrible disappointment to me.

I love peaches. Call it the fact that I grew up in the Peach State, or the fact that peaches are honestly the best fruit on the face of the planet, I love peaches, and they will always hold a special place in my heart.

It wasn't baby's first peach. It won't be her last. But what was important, for that little moment we shared, was that it was our peach.

finals and endings

I feel like I broke something, like the fact that I didn't write a post during finals week about how stressed I was over finals or something similar broke a pattern that I sort of started for the past two semesters.

But, you know, things have to happen at least three times to no longer be a coincidence.

And for some reason this finals week managed to be the finals week I was so busy I didn't even have time to complain about how busy I was, just a barely coherent blog post last Tuesday written in the dead of night because reasons.

Which seemed odd, because I only took two classes this block, which compared to the regular five or so classes I take during a normal semester that's not awkwardly split in half, should have been a lot easier.

But more than likely due to my fabulous procrastinating skills, I ended having a super intense finals week, which wasn't horrible... it just was slightly overwhelming and I never want to do it again. (Because I'll never ever do it again hahahahahha nope)

But my last day of classes/finals was yesterday. Just a quick little test for my crisis management class and a quick little presentation on my costume for my costuming class. And while that was going on, I was thinking about how anticlimactic semester/block endings really are.

You spend your whole semester just waiting for the moment when you no longer have to go to class and then several weeks later you're done and you hand your teacher your final but you finished early before most of the people in your class and the silence is thick and deafening and you just kind of look at each other and then you awkwardly grab your stuff and leave and that's the end.

No goodbyes. No "thanks for being such an awesome teacher this semester i really liked this class". No witty reparteé (sp?) with classmates and maybe also your professor. No emotional hugs. Just... leaving.

And I get that most of this is because it's college and it's not high school and there's a good chance that you will either see that teacher again (or even have them again if they teach enough major classes) (you know who you are) and then you guys can talk and hang out and all the jazz, and the same goes for most of the students, it's not high school and this is not the only place where you're required to see each other.

But still. It feels kinda empty. Sometimes you won't have a teacher again. Sometimes your class partner is flying out to Utah right after the semester and you find out you didn't have a chance to say goodbye.

And the reason that these endings, I think, feel so wrong and awkward is because there is no chance to say goodbye, even if we know that goodbye is only going to be for a week or so or however long it is until the next semester starts. There is no chance to actually come to terms with the fact that what has become habitual for the past couple months is now ended. There's no formal transition. It just is.

And it feels really weird.

Sewing and Love

I still remember the way he looked at me, like I was an actual human being with feelings and aspirations and dreams and humanness. Not like I was a piece of meat to be selected, used, then hung out to dry. Or a brain to be flattered and picked and complimented, because that is totally the way you will get me to give you the answers for the study guide that you want.

I say that I remember it, but in all reality I actually just imagined that, because I don't actually think a boy has ever looked at me like that. Not to put down men and say they're all terrible and misogynist, but that's just been my personal experience. You think strange things late at night, with silence as your companion and a waistband to attach to your skirt before you can go to bed.

I'm more at home with a needle and thread in hand than I am in front of a sewing machine with my foot on the pedal. The machine goes faster than I'm comfortable with sometimes and there's no love. Not the same kind of love you get hand sewing something, watching the material slowly come together as you dip the silver needle in and out of the fabric, pulling the thread through carefully, but quickly. I'm confident in my skills as a hand sewer. I can do that. I can make tiny even stitches, insofar as my patience will stretch.

Sewing is a beautiful thing. There are lots of beautiful things in this world, but perhaps one of the most beautiful, and dare I even say sexy, things I know of is freely given consent. Perhaps that's why I think about guys who would like at me like I'm a human being. The ones I imagine would be good at getting a girl's consent before doing anything. It's awkward and shy and scary and I can't imagine putting yourself out there and asking a girl if it's okay to hold her hand and kiss her before you do it but I can actually and it is beautiful.

But not just my consent. He has to give it to because that's what's really important, is that consent is given on both sides. I can't make a proper skirt if both my halves don't match up. My seams won't match. You need two sides of consent before anyone makes a move. To ask consent is to put yourself out there and say, "I'm cool with doing this thing. Do you want to too?"

That has got to be as wonderful and lovely as putting something together all by yourself and seeing how beautiful it is.

A Child's Thoughts on a Playground

Eenie meenie miney moe

Catch a tiger by his toe

If he hollers, let him go

Eenie meenie miney moe

My mother told me 

To pick the very best one

And you are

Wait. No. Not him. I can't choose him. I like him. If I pick him, he'll never want to talk to me or play with me again, and how are we supposed to get married and have seven children if we never speak again? 

Not

Wait. I can't pick her, either. She's fun and cool and popular, and if we stay friends maybe I'll get more friends too. Look at her, smiling at me. I can't do that to her. 

NOT

Wait. I can't pick her. She's my best friend. We've played this game every day since kindergarten. But there isn't anyone else I can pick. I can't knock myself out. 

It. 

"You're out!"

"But it's not fair, she cheated! He's supposed to be out!"

"But it landed on you, you have to go leave."

"It's not fair! I want a rematch!"

"The rules say no."

"Fine!"

Don't cry. I'm sorry. But... I couldn't knock them out. You understand, right? 

"Come on. She's just being a whiny brat. She'll get over it. You're better off without her. Let's go play!"

"Um... okay."

Videos and Birthdays

In all reality, I actually made this video almost two months ago, for my friend Daryl's birthday. It seemed fitting at the time.

I mean, after all, she was the one who got me to actually listen to One Direction. She did that by sitting me down and making me watch the Kiss You music video. I watched it and I really enjoyed it, so I decided to give the rest of it a try and the rest is pretty much history. This video was my way of saying thank you and also sharing a part of what I could give her, which isn't much.

I don't usually get my friends things for their birthday. If they're lucky, or Facebook reminds me, I'll acknowledge their birthday and say nice things and give them extra hugs. But not usually. I just don't feel like I have a lot to give, and if I'm going to give something, I want it to be super nice and something they'll actually enjoy.

I'm not very good at many things. I'm not even particularly good at making music videos (as I'm sure you can see) but it is something that I can do and I can do with some small measure of skill. It's something I can create that I can share easily and that came easily as her birthday was approaching. So I decided to do that for her, and it was a bumpy road to get there.

First we had a time crunch for filming, because I wanted the filming to be done with a week left to edit before her birthday, so I would be sure to have time to get it done with finals and two papers I was also writing for my classes.

Then I had to round up our friends and convince them that they really wanted to do this for Daryl. And for me. As our friend Matt put it, "If you had told us beforehand that we were doing a One Direction music video, we wouldn't have come out here to do it. But it was very skilled, waiting till we were already here to tell us what kind of birthday video we were making for Daryl." (In all actuality, I thought I had disclosed everything beforehand, and had forgotten to mention that this great video project I wanted to do for Daryl's birthday and before everyone left the island was also a One Direction music video. But hey, it worked out).

Then I had camera issues, what with trying to check one out, and then discovering I had no way to make that camera actually work, to ending up working with my crappy camera that I had wanted to avoid working with in the first place because that was the last thing we had that would make a good video.

But, it all worked out, in what still feels like divine intervention. I also got the editing done quickly, taking just a Sunday afternoon when I thought it would take at least two days.

Perhaps the waiting was the most painful for me, having not planned on having to wait before uploading the video, and with four days left to spare. So I ended up uploading it a day early, and we all enjoyed it.

So here is my video, and do enjoy it.

Or not. I totally won't blame you.

One Way or Another

Sometimes I hear stories about couples that get together while at various college campuses.

Sometimes I'm reminded just how thin and fragile the line between creepy and romantic is. Literally, that line is determined by your predisposition to the person making the creepy/romantic overtures is.

Sometimes I'm walking down the street, and this song comes on, and I'm struck by how much the catchiness and key change distract me from how, if this were the wrong guy, I would be so creeped out.

Okay, lets be real, there are some parts that are just creepy no matter who is singing this to me.

One way or another, I'm gonna find ya, I'm gonna getcha getcha getcha getcha, 
One way or another, I'm gonna win ya, I'm gonna getcha getcha getcha getcha,
One way or another, I'm gonna see ya, I'm gonna meet ya, meet ya, meet ya, meet ya,
One day, maybe next week, I'm gonna meet ya, I'm gonna meet ya...

I will drive past your house
And if the lights are all out
I'll see who's around...

Let's go!

One way or another, I'm gonna find ya, I'm gonna getcha getcha getcha getcha
One way or another, I'm gonna win ya, I'll getcha, I'll getcha,
One way or another, I'm gonna see ya, I'm gonna meet ya, meet ya, meet ya, meet ya,
One day, maybe next week, I'm gonna meet ya, I'll meet ya

And if the lights are all out 
I'll follow your bus downtown
See who's hanging out...

One, two, three, four

(obligatory na na na na na's) (because really can we have a song without them?) (haha nope)

I wanna hold you, wanna hold you tight
I wanna hold you, wanna hold you tight
I wanna hold you, wanna hold you tight
Yeah, teenage kicks right through the night

I wanna hold you, wanna hold you tight
I wanna hold you, wanna hold you tight
I wanna hold you, wanna hold you tight
Yeah, teenage kicks all through the night

One way or another, I'm gonna see ya, I'm gonna meet ya, meet ya, meet ya, meet ya
One way or another, I'm gonna win ya, I'm gonna getcha getcha getcha getcha...

One way or another

Okay guys, like, seriously. Casual reminder that this song is really old and really creepy and catchy with a cool beat and a key change but yeah. Such a thin line.

"I hope your harp isn't jealous"

So I was in my costuming class, casually sewing a bonnet for the upcoming Huck Finn play, when I got a message from a friend of mine.

"How's your harp doing?"

This being the same wonderful friend that helped me build my harp, I was sort of confused and suspicious and wondering what she had going on in asking me this.

Mostly did she imply that I might be possibly ignoring my harp because I got a guitar as an early birthday present?

Which she was, when I replied that it was fine, and she replied that she hoped my harp wasn't getting jealous.

And I do see her point. At this point in my life, I sing, I play the piano, I play the harp, and now I play the guitar (I should add that I'm still not really good at those last two, so don't expect something fabulous, unlike with the piano and singing, which I have been doing for longer).

And I have been loving my guitar to death lately.

Which might be causing some undue jealousy in my harp. Actually, not completely undue jealously.

Confession: I have been ignoring my harp a little bit recently.

After it was finished, I would usually make an effort to play it a couple times a week, and if I didn't manage that, I would at least make sure it was tuned.

But then one Sunday (prime harp playing time) I was busy and I really didn't want to bother tuning it, because that is time consuming (not really but it feels like it) and I was tired. So I didn't, and then I kept not doing it for a couple weeks because it was finals time and I was busy and tired.

Then I went to Utah and got my guitar. I got very excited and immediately started playing it and learning it and shredding the tips of my fingers and such.

So then I get home, with an old, beat-up guitar, and my harp is sitting in my closet, radiating waves of disapproval. I kid you not.

"You haven't had the time to even tune me recently and then you go off for a week and come back with him???"

And yes, my guitar is a he. My harp is a she. They are both my babies, and apparently very jealous of each other, hence why I keep them in opposite corners of my room.

And after a few days I did get around to tuning and playing my harp again. I try to make sure I do give some both time (not necessarily equal time, but both of them do get time).

And the piano?

She always gets my time. She probably honestly gets more time then both of them combined because it's not like playing the piano gives me callouses or hurts or anything so I can pretty much keep going as long as I have songs to play. And I almost always have songs to play.

So if any of my children are going to get jealous of another, it should be my baby boy and girl getting jealous of their older sister.

Storytime! The Toe-Licking Lamb

Gather around, and let me tell you a story from ages past, one that has been passed down my family for generations and is cherished beyond all others.

And by ages past I mean it happened last year, by passed down in my family I mean I think my dad made a Facebook post about it when it happened, and by cherished beyond all others I mean it never fails to either make people laugh or weird them out when they hear it.

So let's go.

It was about a year and one month ago when I left the island of Oahu for the first time since moving here, and it was a grand occasion. My We The People team had made it past states and we were off to DC to compete in the Nationals.

But we would not only be debating and discussing constitutional topics in front of judges, we would also get to be tourists. Part of our touristy experience (other than feeling cold because we were from Hawaii, and as people kept putting it, it was "unseasonably chilly") was a trip to Mount Vernon where we could marvel at George Washington's house and lands and the beautiful river whose name I don't remember, but it was really pretty.

Also, there were lambs living there, as part of the farm. Cute and adorable, sitting behind a fence with their sheep parents, the lambs didn't fail to inspire "aw's" and little other noises of girly happiness when faced with a cute creature.

Then one of the little lambs decided it would exercise its right to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness and jumped the fence. Once over the fence, it didn't run away, it merely stood there, as if it were to seek entertainment from us. My dear friend Josi and I were smitten, and went to go look and maybe even play with it without a fence in our way.

The lamb allowed us to get close, and received our affection in what I suppose is the normal fashion for lambs. As in not really doing much.

But then, a little later, as we had wandered down the fence line, leaving the lamb to the mercy of some little children who were also smitten with the adorable little beast, I was startled to feel something. It felt strange, like nothing I had ever felt before in my life, and I won't seek to describe it here, partly because I don't really remember, and also because what I do remember is really weird and I don't have the words to describe it. It was weird.

I looked down to figure out what the heck was going on with my toes (for some reason I had the thought that maybe they had just gone completely numb from the "unseasonably chilly" weather - it was really cold) and I discovered that the little lamb was LICKING my TOES.

That's right. Standing in Mount Vernon, celebrating the life of George Washington, and a lamb decides it would be great to lick my toes.

I did what any sane human being would do and shrieked, moving away from the lamb while my father and Josi and her father laughed. I moved a little further away, blushing furiously (looking back, it's a lot more funny now that I'm not actually being laughed at, but with) and tried to stay away from the lamb.

But the lamb wouldn't have it, and moved to lick my toes again, determined to taste me? I don't really know what that lamb wanted, but it really liked my toes. This went on for a good five minutes until the lamb got bored and hopped back inside the fence.

We finished looking around Mount Vernon, and slowly made our way back to the bus, telling our story to people, and getting a general good laugh out of it, although we were also faced with a good deal of confusion, none of which has been cleared up in the year and a month since this incident. 

I don't think I will ever fully understand what was happening that day. All I know is that a little lamb hopped a fence and decided to lick my toes, and then decided to hop back behind the fence. And it wasn't a bad thing, and it wasn't a good thing, but it just happened, and life went on.

Whatever that means. There was a lamb licking my toes.

Women's conference.

So, I've been spending the past week trying to recover and become a functioning human being after going on a whirlwind trip to Utah with my mother and seeing Brittany and my aunts and grandmother and going to Women's Conference.

So you can all have some pictures now.

Me and mom about to fly out of Honolulu.

 A picture I took from the plane while flying over California, just as the sun was starting to rise. (Yeah, we did fly all night. Guess who didn't get sleep)

 Me and Brittany finally meeting up after two years of not seeing each other. 

Then we found a statue of a pig.

The pig is apparently named Petunia.

So then we had to pose beside the pig.

Yep.

My mom while we ate some delicious Belgian waffles and fries.

Then we went to my aunt's house, where I got a guitar for an early birthday present. Also yeah, me and Brit take wonderful pictures together.

The next day was Women's Conference. The Marriot Center is huge. HUGE. 

Name tag!

A panorama view of beautiful Utah.

For lunch, me and Brittany absolutely had to try Irish tacos. And they were glorious.

Then we went to the BYU bookstore, where we died because of all the books and then a llama puppet. (What bookstore has a llama puppet?)

So, naturally, more posing.

Don't mind me. I just have a llama puppet in my hand.

I don't know what the llama thought he was doing there. He looks like he wants to lick me. Wouldn't be the first time a farm animal has licked me.

Then there was a donkey puppet. To quote Brittany: "Oh, look, they're frien- Oh, wow, that's more than friends." I still can't get over her face. Apparently we also scared the family that was behind me while I took the picture. 

BYU Creamery mint chocolate chip ice cream. Yum. 

At a Hobby Lobby. Mustaches, crowns, and giant keys.

Then we found a carousel? So, of course, we had to go for a ride on that.

Mom joined us.

"Look, ma, no hands!"

I don't know what's going on there.

Or there. What were we doing?

Bunny ears???

Then this face.

 The next day we went to look around the library on campus. It's big. And we didn't even see all of it. 

That night we also went to see Hello Dolly.

We can take some good pictures together, right?

Still all right. 

Wait, no, Carina, don't try to be funny and make Brittany smile.

Where did that hand come from?

Brittany, what is your face?

WHAT IS MY FACE?

Does your facial expression change at all? 

Wow, I look really blonde.

Oh, wait. I am really blonde. Also probably shouldn't talk while taking pictures.

Is it too much to ask both of us to take a good picture?

Apparently so. 

This is Brittany, the last day at the airport, refusing to show her face. Like I don't own her soul already. 

So that was pretty much Women's Conference! We did do some other things, like go to classes and stuff, and it was a lot of fun and I'm glad I got to see lots of people and enjoy a little vacation.