December 24th couldn't have come any faster.  It seemed like finals had just ended it wasn't nearly cold enough, but before we knew it, Uncle Dave's family came knocking at our door for Christmas Eve dinner.   We dined at the heirloom table with the traditional ham, funeral potatoes, homemade rolls and reunion salad.  The kids performed a Nativity skit {Wow, they are different than me, Kendall, Rachel, and Paige at that age.  While we argued over who got to be Mary and tried to put in our best abilities with singing and everything, they fought over who got to be the sheep, and then Adam wouldn't quit whining about how we wouldn't let him paraphrase Luke 2.  When he accidentily stepped on Megan's foot, we thought that she was pretending to give birth before we realized that she wasn't acting.} and we, like every year, opened up and put on brandnew PJs.
That night, Bryan and I videochatted so we could open our presents together.  I gave him tickets to see the Imagine Dragons concert, and he gave me a beautiful bracelet with my first initial and a frame with fifteen of our cutest pictures {that my mother has since been showing off to all of her lady friends to gawk over}.  Totes adorbs?  Yes!  Is this something I am definitely gonna have to keep for the future to gaze at whenever I'm feeling lonely?  M-hmmm, you betcha!  Thank you honey!
  Oh, and we can't forget how one of those clumsy reindeer accidentily kicked Sophie's window!  Haha.
  Christmas morning, my door flew open at 6 AM sharp.  I was quite disoriented, and it took my awhile to realize why the heck Olivia had was jittering at my bedside.  But we all gathered at the stairs for the traditional Christmas morning photo, gave Dad the time to set up the camcorder, and then the kids booked it to the living room to see what Santa brought.  I was very happy to get some art supplies {the fin-tip pen allows some of my new pieces to look more comicbook-ish, which is really cool!}, combat boots and flipflops {they're a few inches tall, so they'll give me some height! my mom told me excitedly}, music, a purse {the first one that isn't hand-me-down from  my mother, LOL}, a WillowTree Nativity set for my collection, and some pretty Arizona turquoise earrings.  Thank you!
        We met up at the cousins' house for a yummy breakfast, and then spent of the rest of the day watching movies and, for me, drawing.  I don't think we got out of our jammies once the whole day.
          Kendall and I realized that she officially has no more Christmases left at home, and I have only one, and then we got to chat about our boyfriends-- it's been two months since her Curt left for his mission in the Philippines.  She is seriously so adorable when she talks about how she hopes it works out between them and how, if it does, they can have a summer wedding.  She misses him like crazy, which is so sad and cute and makes me dread my BF leaving in less than a year-and-a-half.  But man, what's crazy is to realize how much time has flown.  How long ago was it that Kendall told us that she planned on going to BYU medschool and being too busy to get married until she was "at least 25?"  In four months the beautiful genius blondie who has known me since she was five-months old is graduating high school and going to Beret at ASU.  THIS GIRL IS TALKING TO ME ABOUT GETTING MARRIED IN JUST 2.5 YEARS & I CAN PICTURE MYSELF GETTING MARRIED JUST AS EASILY.  What has happened to us little girls who wore princess gowns in cardboard castles and were afraid that the cucumber masks said to "make a woman look younger" that we put on each other would make us look like toddlers again? The days have flown.
        Christmas is a beautiful season.  Even if it was so hectic with school and gift-gathering, I can never forget the real reason for the holidays. It is for the miracle birth of a person who changed the course of the heavens and earth forever.  Because of Him, this wonderfully family of mine has to put up with me forever and ever and ever.  And I am so grateful for that.

Just remind us to take a map next time, so we don't get quite as lost as we did.
I love my friends so freaking much, though.  We've hung out a lot, whether spontaneously meeting up for desert and a movie on the beloved beanbag, freaking each other out in the garage, wrestling/Nerfgun wars {I realized pitifully that I would die within the first minute of either being kidnapped or made a soldier}, listening to the boys use inside jokes as a way to start dying laughing about something apparently dirt, singing along to the Frozen soundtrack, watching movies like Mr. & Mrs. Smith,walking around the lovely temple lights, watching the ferociosity of a five-year-old {poor Bryan is never gonna live down getting nailed in the face-- literally, like, this kid scratched him and drew enough blood in this long line that the mark is still there & everyone who glances out of the corner of their eye thinks he has a bloody nose.  I tell him to make up some heroic story as a cover-up, but he's too modest.} Last Friday Bryan and I went out on a date with Lindsey and Cody biking around brightly-lit neighborhoods.  The colors were bold and holidayish and the air was crisp, freezing our knuckles and crystallizing our breath.  We stopped our bikes on the freeway overpass to watch the cars flying by, then sipped peppermint smoothies, sang as Jingle Bells as atrociously as we could on the top of our lungs since the whoosh of the traffic whisked the ugly sound away anyway, and went back to Bryan's house to huddle around the fireplace as Bryan almost lulled us to sleep with his gorgous piano skills and played a game of Life and massaged each other. 

 This month, we built a stage.  Actors Youth Theater opened up its own studio we plan on designing like the Venecian.  Even if I don't do quite as much acting as my siblings who participate in so many productions I literally {and I mean LITERALLY literally} can't keep track, the love of performance runs deep in my blood and it's been amazing seeing this all fall into place.  Adam did an eagle project the size of three-- impressing all-- by helping install seats and paint, among a million other things.  I'm proud. My mom's the president of the board too, so congrats to her.
I also can't forget the incredible experience I'm having with Fuse Performing Arts and their little Glee group Funkytown.  I'm the oldest one in the group, but I've never met a group of nicer, more welcoming and fun-loving kids.  We have a blast at every concert, and even if we're not the best group out there, it has been amazing putting together songs to sing and dance to.  I was honored to add a little candle to my cake of a Christmas season by having the choir back me up as I sang O Holy Night.

  The holiday season has begun and with the lights twinkling brightly and the spices swirling deliciously and the carols echoing beautifully... I'm happy.
  I'm happy that we have even the smallest of things.  It's so easy to take for granted the warmth of a heater, fuzzy socks, sweatshirts or hot chocolate...the peace of going to your own church to listen to tales of Christmas, of having time on the weekend to watch Hallmark movies with friends, of hearing the sound of music dancing through the frosty air.  I'm grateful that I have a house big enough to fit our lovely Christmas tree and our traditional nutcrackers and storybooks and collected set of Nativity scenes.  For the electricity to spark life in the lights. For all this delicious food that's going to make me gain weight sooner or later.  Although sometimes I whine about it, not all people are privileged enough to have a school to stress about finals in.  And maybe a winter cold isn't the most fun thing, but at least we have modern medicine to prevent the illness from becoming dangerous.
  Sometimes I get concerned about how much I have to be grateful-- why is it that I was born into a loving family with a nice home and an uplifting church and a well-ranked school and an over-abundance of food?  What did all those other people do make them have to face starvation or disabilities or discrimination or deaths of loved ones while I get to sit here, tapping away at my own person laptop computer?  If they were born into these circumstances, then it pretty much just makes life sound like a giant lottery {obviously it's not, but you get my point}that I HAPPENED to get lucky with-- and since life's not fair, I can't keep winning.  Will one day, when I'm least expecting it and completely taking advantage of everything, I lose what I've got?  Everyone has to have a trial in their life, so wouldn't it only be fair if after living so many years of blessing after blessing, I got struck down hard?
  I'm not trying to be negative or expectant of some horrible future.  But imagine if you were fighting with someone close to you and, in the heat of the moment, said some cruel thing you didn't really mean-- right before they got in a fatal wreck.  What if, I don't know, an explosion caused you to go deaf before you could memorize every song or soak up the sound of your BF/GF saying "I love you!"? Or you went blind before you could capture every sight, or lost the use of a hand, or your house foreclosed, or your government went psychotic and proclaimed tyranny?   
  We have so much.  So this holiday season-- no, forever-- I want to be grateful.        

  Sometimes my brain feels like it's about to explode.  All of a sudden all the creative juices start running at once, and then I'm off on this busy bee trek of quenching my thirst.  I start drawing and writing {among other things} till three in the morning, when it's not the time, but the fact that the next day's gonna kill me that finally forces me to halt.
  I've never felt more artistically inclined than I do now.  I've never taken really any art classes, but once that pencil is in my hand, I can't put it down.  And when I'm writing, I'll spend hours developing depth by taking personality tests for my characters and trying to come up with fancy plot events to make the story exciting.
  My latest project will be interesting to take on.  It has two narrators from two different settings, one modern times and one in a early AD Scandinavian times, switching off every chapter.  Right now I really have just come up with some character names, basic ideas, and written chapter 1 and 2 as expositions.  We'll see how this goes. 
  I know that my love of the fine arts will get me, uh, nowhere in life.  Just because I'm a singer, pianist, writer and artist in no way provides me with a way of, well, proving for myself.  So that's frustrating.  But till then I am going to search for ways to make this important in some way or another, if nothing else but to make me happy.

  It began with awakening.

  I mean that literally.  At 2:00 in the morning, an alarm went off blaring.  You must understand, I HATE the sound of alarm clocks, so I desperately/groggily searched for the source of the miserable sound till I found it, turned it off, and could collapse back in bed.  Despite the fact that I knew Bryan would be asking me any day now because 1) he's my boyfriend and 2) my mom forced us to clean the whole house... somehow it didn't occur to look right next to the alarm clock I had never seen before to find a piece of paper saying, "Sorry to alarm you, but will you go to Homecoming with me?"  Instead I asked my siblings in annoyance which one of them thought it would be funny to prank me.
  The first time we ever held hands was while watching Insidious, and since we just saw part II the day before, I figured what the heck and decided to disturb his slumber as well.  It was probably funnier in my head than it actually was, but I set the song Tiptoe Through the Tulips {a super duper creepy song from a super super creepy part of the movie} to go off under his bed at 2 AM.  His dad put it on top of a Frisbee so the sound went out to the whole room and he couldn't figure out where it was. "It would be scary if I said no."  OK, kinda stretching it, but it was yes.
    I love going to dances because of the anticipation, the creativity, the countless hours you spend on dates with friends, the hunt for dresses {marked down to $14.99 at the Dillard's Outlets!} and jewelry and shoes {despite the wonders of being 5'6" getting a glimpse into the normal world's POV, I hate heels} and makeup/hair styles. 
  At five o'clock the Friday before, the boys picked us up for bowling.  After the last time when I miserably failed and became notoriously known as the laughing stock, I was actually surprised that I didn't do too bad this time.  People still made fun of me for my own methods of throwing the ball, but I tsk-tsked them when Bryan tried my way for the heck it and got a strike, I believe.   Everyone in the group named each other and Bryan became Mr. McMockery and I became Psqueeter because that sounds like "a name for someone small."
  After a round of bowling, we headed out to get dinner at Subway where Rachel videoed people in slow motion without telling us and Bryan and I jiggled ice in each others' faces. Then, wearing white for the whiteout, we headed to the homecoming game.  The stands were so packed that we had to park in one of the neighborhoods and walk. I wish I could say the Hawks soared in glorious victory... but we lost by a touchdown.  Oh well.  Then we went to Hunter's house where we chilled by the fire with punch and candy and joked about what I'd be like drunk.  {Where that came from I have no idea, ask Chandler.} 

  On Saturday, we all flocked at Chandler's house and made crepes.  Oh how lovely it was to see the gender swap-- boys in the kitchen cooking, girls sprawled out comfortably.  Even if {or rather, especially because} Chelsea failed at comebacks, we laughed hard {I don't remember what they were talking about but Karisa said something like "Chelsea, that's a man's job." And Chelsea's like "Well, well you're a man's j--"  The look of horror as she tried to put her foot her mouth was hilarious.}  

  For the next part of the day date we headed out to the desert for some Frisbee golf.  You'd think that it would be cooler in November than it was, but I guess I forgot to think logically about how this is Arizona {for cryin' out loud} before I put on jeans.  Poor Bryan was on my team, which meant he was on the loser's team.  But if it has to do with trying to throw something with the the wind, that's just how I roll!
  After some icecream, we headed home to get ready.  Now we were gettin' down to it!  I rushed around like crazy trying to make sure I looked perfect.   Before I could even take pictures with the group, my mom dragged me to Jacki's house to snap a few, and it turns out that wasn't a bad idea.  I'm posting this many pictures of myself just because I'm so in love with the dramatic backdrops!

  Our dates picked us back up in the evening.  I'll admit Bryan looked pretty classy rolling up the driveway in black, and I couldn't stop smiling when we drove away towards his house.  His mama took the pictures {how I adore her!} and then we ate a delicious stake dinner the boys worked so hard to prepare.  
  We were happy.  Bryan ever-so-characteristically sat down at the grand piano and serenaded me, his fingers flying, the beautiful melodies melting into the warm atmosphere.  I sat down on the bench next to him and fell even harder, if that's possible.  

The time of the dance came.  Hawk Hall was decked out with marine decor for the theme Come Sail Away, and music blasted loudly, the beat pulsing in the dark hot air.  We pumped our fists and grooved and messed around, pretending to be sexy as we danced to deep-based songs, and when the DJ told us we weren't "allowed to jump," we jumped higher.  Sweat beaded and heart rates spiked and feet screamed in rebellion against the combo of heels and dancing.  But we had a blast.  And when the slow songs soothed the environment, Bryan and I danced together.  Okay, we had some fun with it, mouthing the words to the sappy songs and making dramatic facial expressions and body movements mockingly.  But that didn't mean there wasn't that beautiful gazing into each others' eyes, or a kiss.  After all, it was homecoming.
 After the dance, we headed for one last trip to Village Inn.  For some reason, dear B-Ry was under the impression that it was a little restaurant inside of an actual hotel, so he pulled into the parking lot of an Inn before we could explain otherwise.  After we got pie, unfortunately, city curfew was city curfew.  The date was over and we had to go home.
  I seriously loved homecoming this year.  I hope that next year will provide us with just as many cherished memories.

  Let's be honest.  It's the holidays.  Holiday is another synonym for "getting fat," you know, with all the pumpkin-flavored ice cream and baked goods, hot chocolate, an abundance of candy and peppermints, eggnog, advent calenders, and pretty much the most delicious meals you'll have all year.  I am definitely a foodie and I'm not gonna commit myself to getting rid of such wonderful memories and traditions... but I can't just abuse my body either.
  So for the past three days I have done a steady 6-part workout.  I know it's not an excuse to eat bad, and I have been trying to eat good meals even if I allow myself the sweet treats, but I do want to tone up and I figure this definitely can't hurt:

• a mile of cardio (alternate running/walking)
• a minute-long handstand with my stomach against the wall
• 105 ab reps (alternate sit-ups, V-ups, obliques, crunches, etc.)
• 20 frog jumps
• 25 push ups (variety types for different arm muscles)
• 3 pull-ups (my arms are tired by then)

   I'm actually planning to commit myself to this.  Even though it can hurt, I love that post-workout feeling of mixed soreness and satisfaction and already I can tell that my muscles are building. Hallelujah! I want to be healthy and to make choices now that will help me in the future.  And I guess I'm hoping that by it writing down, I can make myself even more certain that this is what I need to do.

  As the kind of person who likes to watch scary movies with friends over the weekends, I hear a lot of "ghost stories."  75% of them are from my bored Internet explorations, and I shan't lie.  They creep me out.  Even if I'm not totally sure if any of them are legit.  But whether they're real or not, usually it's just fun to look into for the heck of it.
  Except...sometimes I get to wondering about the side of these things that's more than just silly campfire aspect.  I mean, just think about the prospect of beings we can't see... there.  Around you.  If you believe in a life after this one, that leaves how many billions of departed souls wandering around the earth?  Believe what you wish, but my family has had some bizarre psychic experiences that can leave anyone up to pondering about.  And these, I know, are not made up.

• When my mom Cheri was probably ten, she lived on a farm in Texas.  She had a cow she was planning to take to the fair for competition, but her horse kept eating the cow's food so that the cow was getting skinny.  One day my mom was trying to shoo the horse away from the food, and he got upset. He kicked my mom in the heart area of her chest {a force that led to still-existing cardiac issues} and knocked her unconscious, face down in the mud.  From the house a few acres away, my grandma heard my mom screaming for help-- despite the fact that my mom was definitely passed out.  So my grandma ran to help her and immediately called 911.  As she was being loaded into the ambulance, the phone rang.  It was my great-grandma calling from California.

                          "What happened to Cheri?" she asked frantically.
                          My grandma paused, confused.  "How do you know there's something wrong?"
                          "Because the clocks are ticking backwards and Cheri's picture is upside down."
            As it turned out, my great-grandma lived in one of the oldest homes in Sacramento-- a former          carriage house, where all the deceased were taken before burial.

• When my mom was in college, she had a nightmare that she was driving with her radio up loud and wasn't paying attention when a siren-blaring ambulance came at full speed and wasn't able to stop before crashing into her car-- a horrific wreck.  The dream disturbed her, but she had forgotten about it by the next week.  She had stuff to do, and one day she was driving around the BYU Provo area.  Her radio was up loud for the heck of it.  To her luck {she thought distractedly}, all of the cars started merging to the opposite lane, so she just figured Sweet, I'll get there faster in a clear lane.  She didn't hear the ambulance wailing towards her and with shocked horror she realized this was an exact replica of the previous dream she had totally pushed aside as nothing.  How fortunate the both vehicles barely managed to swerve away on time.  
• Around my house, there have been a number of bizarre occurrences for the past nine years since my grandma passed away.  We all adored her and my mom says she was always the type of person who was crazy and trying to have fun.  I'm not saying all or even any of these things were her, but...  When she died, we kept her old printer.  I remember every night around midnight, though not at a specific time, the printer would always go off.  It would make those loud mechanical whirring sounds as if it were going to print something, then didn't.  My mom even tried to turn it off before going to bed, yet it would still go off like always.  This went on for about a year.
• We have an antique replica of a Spanish colonial ship named "Fragata Española: Año1790."  It's something my grandpa on the other side of the family found decades ago and always admired, a very pretty collection piece. Anyway, one time in the middle of the night we heard a huge crash.  We discovered that the shelf the ship was displayed on had somehow fallen completely off the wall, despite being bulky enough to support the ship and never having issues before.  Partly beneath the shelf, there was a sofa.  The shelf landed completely diagonal and scewampous over the side over the couch arm, which could only be expected after a five-and-a-half-foot fall.  That's the sad physics of gravity for yah.  But the ship?  Despite it's bearer crashing hard and wrong on the edge of the sofa, the ship managed to fall to the side, away from the shelf and the sofa, completely upright on the floor. 

•   One time in junior high, I was the last one up, still doing homework at 11:30.  My room then was over the garage, and like always when the garage opened, my floor rumbled loudly to announce it.  At first I passed it off as nothing-- my dad must've remembered to take out the trash or something and gotten up to do that.  But then I got these chills, and I decided I wasn't so sure about that theory.  Panicked, I raced across the house and tried to open my parents' door-- but it was locked.  I banged on it till they finally got out of bed and opened the door.  Both of them, there.  

                   "That wasn't you who just opened the garage."  I gasped. 
                  "The garage opened?" they said, confused.  My dad shrugged and went downstairs to check.  Sure enough, the garage was wide open.  I still to this day don't know how.

• Before getting into high school required one of those $100 T-84s, I had a pretty crappy calculator.  It was one of those old sun-powered things my dad let me use when he decided it would do him no good.  Half the time the numbers wouldn't show up, or I'd have to press buttons super hard, and sometimes the dang thing would turn on and produce numbers for no reason, though probably half the time just having been bounced around in my backpack.   But one time, after not touching it for several days in a secluded corner of my room, I discovered the calculator on with the numbers 666 across the top.

 I don't know how these things work.  People will be skeptical as they will, but I for one at least know these stories weren't fictional.  Some I believe were the influence of God trying to protect, others....  I don't know.  I'll admit we have other stories forbidden to be told. But they leave you wondering.

  Our second leg of the journey was in Oahu on the North Shore.  This time, instead of staying in another resort, we lodged in an adorable three-room beach house.   The backyard was literally the beach, which meant every morning we got to wake up to the sight of the ocean through the windows.  We decided to chill more than run around, so we'd spend a lot of time relaxing by reading, kayaking, tanning, eating dried pineapple. I found that I was able to break through a mental block and begin writing a new novel, which was really exciting for me.  At night, we flicked on flashlights and crab-hunted. 
Our parents spoil us when we vacation.  At least food-wise.  They cooked up Spam {since apparently that's a Hawaiian thing to do} and Kalua pork and hooked us up with plenty of shaved ice, friend bananas and macadamia nut ice cream.  Oh, and we found out that birds like food a lot too when this little duo would not leave us alone and even snatched a bag of Doritos.
  We were only five minutes away, so we visited both BYU campus and the temple.  Man, would I love to go to college here.  Us older people had the opportunity to do baptisms for the dead; the design is beautiful and as always the Spirit could be felt.
Snorkeling and scuba diving were most definitely amazing experiences.  Like I've said, it was magnificent catching a glimpse of some exotic sea animal, even if sea urchins crowed the rocks and we had to swim carefully.  But look!  I never thought I was a good swimmer till I swam all the way to that cove in the photo below and back, probably a distance of 1-1.5 miles altogether.  Angel fish, sea turtles, sea stars, unicorn fish, ten dozen creatures I can't name... I've definitely never experienced anything like that. 
  On the last morning, Mom and I decided to get up early and watch the sunrise.  Boy was it worth it.

  One of the days we sailed away on a catamaran.  Maybe it's just because I'm from the desert, but I didn't get over the gorgeousness of the blue seas, the refreshment of the salty breeze, the loveliness of the jungle mountains the entire time.  We snorkeled, fighting over frozen peas to feed swarms of enthusiastic and not-so-shy fish.  I've never seen so many aquatic creatures in my life, but they were all fascinating in their beautiful or just plain bizarre shapes, colors, and habits.

  Another time we took a hike.  Japanese influence embellished the lands before the trail, as did strange types of plants-- lots of gruava trees-- and streams.  Even though we accidentily left our bag of tennis shoes at the hotel and had to hike in flipflops, the air was so pure that it was much more exhilerating than difficult.  Now see, I was smart and wore a swimsuit underneath.  Sure enough we encountered water, and even though my siblings could only stick their feet in, I plunged into the gurgling stream with no regrets.
  Now I must dedicate a photo section to the flowers.  Because they were lovely.

For our first full day of the trip, we got up early, ate some Costco muffins {such a delicious vacation delicacy}, and jammed ourselves in the minivan.  Anyone vacationing to Maui knows that they can't skip out of the Road to Hana, so that's precisely what we spent the day doing.
  People are always singing about how life is "about the journey," and this was a perfect example to make that true.  Although Hana itself was small and simply, it was the drive itself-- looking out the window, listening to Selena Gomez's Star Dance album-- and taking the little stops along the road that made the experience one of the best of the entire trip.
  It started with the city melting into more wilderness.  On one side lay the sapphire sea and on the other the emerald land, which then scrunched up into densely-forested mountains.  We all took medicine beforehand to prevent carsickness {except Rachel, who refuses to swallow pills} because the road was extremely windy and pathetically-railed and often one-lane.  After an hour, hour first stop was a tiny village with a centuries-old church and black volcanic rock strewn with crabs and sea snails.
We kept driving.  On vacation you are always hungry for something exotic, so we stopped at a rustic shack for coconut-pineapple bread, Cuban bananas and dried coconut candy.   The shack filled with hundreds of pictures on every wall of tourists who had stopped by.  The lady was sweet like the treats she sold, even if her kitten jumped up and snatched Eric's bread.
  While driving through another village, all of a sudden one of the kids shouted "Look! A HORSE!" The other kids all got excited, until someone older moaned, "Are you kidding me?  That's a dog."  And as if this wasn't enough, a few hours later Adam gasped, "A bear!  Look!  A bear!"  Olivia chimed in, "Oh my goodness it's a bear!"  All the kids started shouting, despite mom trying to tell them that bears don't live on the island.  They ignored that fact.  Until one of the older people once again pointed out the flaw in their argument:  "Uhhh... That would be a cow."  We didn't let that one go the rest of trip, yelling out "Look!  A herd of bears!" every time we saw some cows.

  One stop we knew would be pretty important was the black sand beach.  One of my first memories was when I was two, picking up a handful of the strange black substance and not being able to get it off my hands {apparently I resorted to sticking it in my mouth, though I don't remember that}.  It was a lovely place-- the sand that sifted between our toes was the product of thousands of years of volcanic rock being dashed to bits by stunningly blue waves.  We hiked around and found a gorgeous view where the water tumbled into the side of the black cliff and exploded in a high spray of blue mist, where distant mountains faded into the background.  The kids couldn't get enough of the water and were delighted at the sight of crabs camouflaged in the rocks.  By chance I even found a huge cavern; though it looked like just a little hole in the side of a hill, when you ducked inside the ceiling rose and the place extended to the water out the other side.
   One of my mom's favorite stops from our last trip was the Seven Sacred Pools, so we crossed our fingers we could visit.  Crossed fingers doesn't work though-- this famous landmark was still victim of the stupid government shutdown.  Ughhhh.  The ironic thing was, despite the fact that almost no one supervises the place when it's open, there were several people being paid to make sure no one got it.  Oh well.  We stopped for a picnic at the side of a little church and also visited the grave of Charles Lindbergh, a man revolutionary in the aviary world.
  Then we saw a little path from a tiny opening in a fence and decided to be adventurous explorers.  We squeezed through and found people cliffjumping.  Jackpot!  I felt like such a wuss having to be lured into jumping, but my brother was jumping from 45 feet with this guy we found out was a trapese artist.  Crazy right?  I did jump 35 feet after a while and it turned out fun and didn't kill me by hitting rocks or something as my brain expected.  The kids did flips and yelled animal noises such as "Cockadoodle-meow!" {???}

We didn't get to the hotel till dark.  The way back seemed longer despite the fact that we didn't take any stops like the way up, but maybe that's just because we were so sad to leave.  But seriously, even though my lame descriptions must have dulled the heck out of the story, it was honestly one of the most fun days my family has ever spent together.

We didn't get a lot of sleep that night.
  First off, trying to get eight people ready for a week-and-a-half long trip kept us up late enough.  But the plane was scheduled to leave at 4:45 AM, which meant we had to get up at 3.  Not as if we minded.
  I love airports.  There is something about the suitcases, the smell of coffee {even if I don't drink it}, the vast types of people scattered through pricey gift shops and exciteable boarding lines.  Maybe it's just nostalgic for me.  Whatever it is, I could hardly contain my excitement, especially when we took our seats aboard the plane and opened up the windows.  With our luggage stored overhead and seatbelts fastened, we listened to the sound of the pilot on the intercom and braced ourselves for the takeoff.   Whoosh!  Our stomachs lurched with that beautiful feeling of leaving ground and then we were soaring.

  Several hours later, the plane touched ground.    When we stepped outside the airport... well, our jaws dropped.  The air was cool with a breeze {if slightly humid} and the world was green.  We certainly weren't in Phoenix anymore.
  Hawaii is as tropical island as any tropical island in the movies-- but better.  Even in the many urban areas, you just get that sense of exotic.  It's jungly with an abundance of thriving trees, lots of coconuts and passion fruits strewn about, and a bouquet of rainbows.  Little fruit stands are scattered along the roads and you get to eat lots of seafood and macadamia nuts.  The water is so blue that it literally looked like someone had photoshopped it, post-card perfect.    
  The resort?  Oh my freaking gosh am I ruined.  It was seriously the most beautiful little hotel in the world, a Westin in Maui to just make you feel tropical and romantic and relaxed and like you never ever want to leave.  I fear I've been too spoiled to ever be able to stay in another hotel again.
  The top two picutres are the views from different sides of the hotel.  We stayed on the tenth floor, so it was gorgeous.  The back of the resort included five pools, a slide, a waterfall, three or four restaurants, venders, a connected mall and whale museum, and not to mention the beach.  Oh, and the flamingos.
When we weren't exploring the hotel, we were enjoying the hotel proudly.  We slept in beyond-comfortable beds, read/tanned next to the pool {we were all arguing over The House of Hades}, ate Hawaiian donuts and tropical smoothies, talked to birds that said "Aloha" when you said "Hello" and "Hello" when you said "Aloha," got tossed by the waves, meandered around the lovely place barefoot.  Etc.  At night I'd sit on the tiny balcony and chat with Bryan till my phone locked.  Oh man the painful irony... We were in Hawaii at the SAME FRIGGEN time but went to Oahu on different legs of our trips!  


People ask me what my favorite vacation has been.  Here's my response to that question:  Are you stupid?  I am absolutely in love with the East Coast, with California, with Colorado, with Escalante, with Peru, with Hawaii.  To have to choose a favorite between so many amazing moments of my life is simply impossible because they were all unique.  I have a passion for travel because setting foot in some place new emerges me in new knowlege, new adventure, new soul.  Hawaii was very  breathtaking though, I will give you that.

   Some of these blossoms are full and vibrant, splashed with color and soggy with sweet perfume.  Others-- hopefully less-- are wilted, dried up by one too many tears shed.
  It's crazy to think how short life is.  It feels so long... but really, it's not.
  Just this Saturday, beloved Great Grandpa Archie passed away.  We cried, although we smiled at the fact at the fact that he gets to reunite with his lovely daughter, my Grandma Diana {bottom left}, who died exactly nine years ago of ovarian cancer.  It's still hard also to believe that Great Grandma Barbara died a year ago as well.  What happened?
  But there are still the memories, the legacy, the bloodline.  I remember going to Colorado to that squat little brick house in Fort Morgan where the picture of Archie hunting in Africa hung over the couch, where the little automated bird flew in a perfect circle from its spot where it hung on the ceiling, where Barabara kept a grand collection of vintage teddy bears.  I remember sorting through years' worth of spare change and gathering together with the other grandchildren to get the $10 each we could spend as we pleased at Walmart.  I remember going to Sonic and the big park with the Spiderman net and the geese to keep away from.  I remember every time going out for breakfast at the old restaurant for the giant pancakes and hot chocolate with the yummy whipped cream.  Archie always showed us off to the other old timers.  Even if he sometimes called Livie Hot Lips, me Cheri, and Mom Diana, it was clear that he loved us all in the way that he gave us hugs and made us beautiful metal works in his shop.  And even though I was a tiny thing when she died, I still totally remember Grandma Diana.  She took us kids to As You Wish, which was pretty much one of the top things on our bucket lists, so we could paint.  She gave us play horses and porcelein dolls and lovely books about fairies.  I remember when I tripped on the stairs and bonked my nose and cried, she cuddled me and read me a story from that book.  She also took us to Six Flags and this restaurant with fried ice cream and a waterfall with performers who jumped from it {I was six, I'll have to ask an adult for more details on this strange place I can still totally picture}.
  We don't live forever.  But I know that these people made an influence in my life in a way that I hope I can in other people's lives.  I love them.

  Hey.  Wussup?  Been a while, hasn't it.
  Yeah, life's been slightly busy.  Really, life's just been composed of school, Insideous, dancing at the country club, dates, Thursday letters, having a grand old time with the amigos.
  This week I felt honored to attend {and perform at} the annual AriZoni awards.  In competition against youth musicals across all of Arizona, AYT's Aida won 7 awards {including best music, choreography, and the highest honor of the best overall performance to name a few}.  SEVEN.

  I say it every year.  I remember.  I was not even five years old yet-- a child, confused-- but I remember so clearly the panic shooting through the air, how I just stood in front of the TV in our little yellow family room.  The screen flashed footage of these buildings burning, falling apart, and the people whose faces were filled with sheer terror.  It didn't make sense to me.  Even if I can't remember how my mom pulled to the side of the road when driving to comfort or seek comfort from friends because the tears were blurring her vision, or how scarred she and her friends were that Daddy and the other men worked for big companies in Boston at the time would be victims of this cruelty, the memory in my family room remains as frozen in my brain as I was in front of the TV.  I knew something was wrong, and it bothered me.
  A few months after 9/11, my parents took us to New York.  Although I have no other recollections of that entire vacation, I remember driving past the site, still in ruins, and the solemn tone of my parents as they told us what this desolate place was.
  It wasn't till years later that I really understood what happened.  The story clicked with the frightening memory and sent chills through me.  Yet as each year went by, people spoke and less of the attack, the event to "Never Forget."
  But my Spanish teacher today was different.  She was the only teacher to talk about it.  Her voice was grim, her face hard, as she spent almost the entire class period discussing that day-- for she had been a teacher in New York at the time and experienced the horrors firsthand as her hometown was attacked and many of the people she was close to lost family members or barely escaped death themselves.  Her stories left my head aching, my eyes stinging as I forced myself not to let the tears escape.  She also brought up the Boston Marathon bombing, which definitely renewed that feeling of gut-sickness for me.  Although this much-more-recent act of violence did not take a fraction of the amount of lives as 9/11, the pain of fellow Americans dying at the hand of the hateful was still the same.  I used to live in Boston.  I knew people who were at the Marathon and it terrified me.
  It never ceased to amaze me, though, how many miracles can happen in tragedies like this.  She told us with a surety that she believed an unseen hand was working to help some people.  As she said that, two kids raised their hands to relate stories of how their parents were supposed to be working on one of the top floors that day, but had this strange desire to get some food and be a little late, or got sick.  There are several-- I mean SEVERAL-- true stories I have heard like that.  "It's kinda freaky," my teacher admitted, and I don't think she or many others including myself would believe that it's mere "coincidence."  In Boston, some very close family friends would have attended the marathon like always if not for a school trip happening to planned at the same time.  My kindergarten teacher was actually at the marathon with her kids, but luckily waited at the halfway point.   I hear people with especially-close calls say that they do everything now to make sure their lives are fulfilled because they know it was God who preserved them.
  I don't understand why people are hateful, violent.  Nor do I understand on the complete opposite side the miracles that happen.  But I want to say that I am proud to be an American.  And I am thankful for a God who cares.  And I will Never Forget.

Happy Labor Day.  With a day off, Mom and Dad sped off to the lake and left us kids to fend for ourselves.  After making raspberry sorbet {because, when the raspberries are on sale 4 quarts for $1, Dad buys 36}, I took the kids to see The Croods since Mom had promised them that I would.  I didn't totally want to, but I drove them there anyway cause they had obediently done their chores.  At least started them.
  It was kinda bad luck all combined.  The movie was at 11:45, so I tried to leave at 11.  But, of course, I then couldn't find my license since Mom took it out of its usual spot.  Then the kids were slow to get in the car, we hit every red light, and I somehow managed to take two wrong turns.  By the time we got there, the line was probably a quarter mile long, so we waited in the AZ heat.  Finally there were only two people in front of us before we could buy our tickets.
  "Attention!  The Croods is now sold out!"
  Really people?  Really?  There were several movies I'd been dying to see, but of course the kids didn't want to see those.  So I ushed them inside the mall.
  I'm happy to announce that it ended up being a good time.  We pretty much just screwed around and used the money for the movie tickets to buy them icecream and a ride on the carousel.  The kids smiled goofily as they tromped around the playground, faked terror on the elevator, posed with the Chick-fil-A cow, devoured samples from See's Candy, and desperately averted their eyes from Victoria's Secret.  I pretty much felt like the best sister ever when Sophie took my hand and said, "You're so nice Katie."

     I am pretty for certain that junior year is going to be excellent.  We've been back in school for almost a month and not only am I digging my classes, but we have finally scraped ourselves out of most of the drama of sophomore year and have been able to just have a good time. 

     On Friday night I nearly died from happiness when it started raining.  See, in AZ, there ain't no "Rainy day go away," because the rainy day is almost always away.  Y'all are just gonna have to accept the fact that I'm the type to run out when it's pouring to spin around, jump in puddles, get soaked, and make people think I'm high.  A double rainbow even showed up.

     I met up with my amigos to to watch Highland's first Varsity football game, and I don't think the rain let up the entire time.  Despite this, the crowd was huge and blacked-out {except for Bryan, he missed the memo and wore white instead} as we all rooted for the Hawks.  I wore Bryan's soccer sweatshirt with "McOmber" written on my back.  It was kinda weird not being out in the front cheerleading like I did for so many years, but I think I'm gradually chipping away at the sadness as I get used to it. I honestly didn't mind chilling {literally} with my friends as we messed around being weird teens. At one point, when Bryan wanted to get something out of the car, he and I had to cross a giant parking lot filled with ponds and ended up getting sidetracked when the rain and solitude and flirting got to be too much for our hearts.  We started kissing between two parked cars-- until we realized two guys were walking by, saying, "We should just hang out with them!"  It got kinda awkward after that.
    After a while we left the game to go to Haley's house, cause nothing beats waffles with homemade syrup listening to Brian Reagan videos when you're all tuckered out.  Then Bryan drove me home.  Man I love that guy.

     On Saturday, we decided that Friday wasn't enough to quench our desire to hang out.  A bunch of us met up at Chandler's to make crepes, try to pop whipped cream from our wrists into our mouths, argue over whether or not country music is good, watch the beginning of Star Trek {my mom was once a self-confessed Trekky but I've never seen it}, curl up on the couch, feed each other ice cream, play fetch with Chandler's amazingly talented ball-catcher dog, and laugh when his other dog stole the pizza right out of my hand.  When the movie theater was full, we drove to the bowling alley with the windows rolled down blasting a nice mix of old Kelly Clarkson songs {that remind me of when my mom would drive me to swimming lessons with her CD} and music from Tarzan.  I think we got some weird looks from the cars next to us.   
   It was tragically humorous how awful I am at bowling.  I tried and I tried but no matter what advice of theirs I took, I was ending up with 5 points when everyone else had 55.  Finally I told them "Screw it, I'm playing by my own rules."  And I got a strike. 

   I pretty much love my friends.  And being a teen.  And life.

  I'm one of those people constantly itching for something more. 
  It's kinda bad.  Here I am with an amazing family, fun friends, a nice home, a nourishing religion, a good education etc. etc.  Oh, and pretty much a perfect relationship.  Yet for me it's beyond that, disregarding those people and things in my life as I take a magnifying glass to me, Katherine Elizabeth, and interrogate myself with questions like, "What will people think about you when you're dead?"
   It's at times when my brain's all twisted up like this that I breach out with my creativity and wonder what more I can do.  I want to be important, remembered, an interesting subject matter when {or rather, IF} people were to bring me up in the future.    
  Maybe it's me getting too awe-struck when I see people not all that much older than myself with their picture splattered on the front page.  Or too romanticist when I watch movies/read books chalk full of bravery, world-changing, and rain kisses.  Not like I want all my secrets stripped from me and tossed to the public, or to be mixed up in a life-or-death situation perfect for the cinemas.
  When considering what I can do with myself I think about how I like to sing, to write, to sketch, to make people feel good.  {Perhaps unimportantly I also enjoy traveling, photography, learning facts about the human body and mind, pondering about the world's unsolved mysteries and embracing concepts other people might think strange, kissing, rolling down the windows with my arms out the window and the base down low, and daydreaming.}  What do I do with these hobbies?  My dream since I was seven years old has been to publish novels; I would love the talent to be able to entertain people with my singing. Would these satisfy my desire?  I also wish more than anything to be someone's hero.
  This has gotten me stumped.  But mark my words-- I don't care if there are billions of others to seize up all the opportunities in the world, I am going to make this life worth something.  Even if it's only 5¢.       

  Phew!  It's Saturday. which means my third week of school just ended.  Yes, I'm an upperclassmen.  Yes, I'm freaking out, because suddenly I realized that the first two years flew by and thus only that much short time till I'm out of the nest and completely on my own.  This year I need to be super diligent about being involved, searching for scholarships, getting a job, maintaining good grades, trying to plan out one of the most important stages of my life...
  Yeah, it's scary
  But in the meantime, I'm busy with my schedule of eight classes: Dance, A.P. Psychology, A.P. English, Seminary, Dual Credit Spanish IV, Anatomy/Physiology {taught like a collage course like Spanish but I'm not gonna pay for the dual credit}, Precalc {same situation as an anatomy}, and an online American History course.  I also got a fab group of friends finally {almost} free of all the problems we had last year, totally willing to party it up.  Oh yes, amd a amazingly spectacular, attractive, sweetheart, romantacist boyfriend.
   I'm sure this is going to be a great year.

  I'm tragically notorious for finding photo-worthiness in the things many people wouldn't even register seeing.  Out in the country, my heart practically melted at the sight of luscious open land and glittering night skies and billowing clouds and scrapmetal.
  Luckily my mom too notices such details too, and  she wanted to test out different functions on the camera Uncle Tommy showed her.  Though I begged and begged, not a single one of my sisters or cousins would join me in a photoshoot, but I couldn't just let this chance at a beautiful backdrop slip through my fingers!  So just in case you though I was a narcassist.  Cause that's totally convincing, yah know, uploading ten pictures of myself, but I swear I was just having fun and letting my mom try out a thousand and one ways to be creative.

   

  The last piece of our journey was out of a little teeny tiny town in the heart of Colorado called Wiggins.  Of course, this wasn't before stopping to see my mom's good friend from college, Debbie, and later that night Aunt April-- my mom's half sister from her dad-- with Uncle Jordan, who coincidentally happened to be in Denver from D.C. for a wedding. We got ice cream from an adorable milk jug before reaching our destination.
I really had a lovely time spent with the family.  And away from society for a little bit.  And enjoying nicer weather than the raging desert heat-- though of course it poured for days in AZ and shut off the faucet as soon as I got back {it has yet to turn back on too}.
  Once we left, we were anxious to get home.  We had to fit a full-grown golden retriever in an eight-seat car filled with eight people and all their stuff, and  after three {wonderful} weeks I really missed my friends.  I was pretty sure those were some of the longest fourteen hours of my life, but I decided not to complain because technically at least we can travel a thousand miles in a bit more than half a day while sitting.
  It had been a three-thousand mile journey overall.  And one I will never forget.