Youth Conference

If you've never been on a pioneer trek before, you will not understand my pain. My stake left Monday night at 7 pm on one of those huge tour buses with the big windows and a bathroom in the back. And yes, I know all too well about that bathroom, because I, unfortunately, had to sit right next to it. We watched movies for a while, but the DVD player was crappy so everything would skip whenever we hit a bump in the road. Eventually, I just pulled out a book and read. It was actually kind of cool, I mean, the bus had reclining leather seats and nice armrests. Although, when it's three in the morning and you're trying to sleep and one of the leaders from another ward steps on your feet while trying to get into the bathroom, it isn't exactly fun. Ah, well.

So we arrived at Martin's Cove/Devil's Gate at around 8 in the morning and there's a freezing wind blowing at us, but whenever anyone complained a leader would yell, "The pioneers had worse wind! And snow!" It was kind of entertaining to watch people get chewed out. We ate breakfast, but unfortunately, I forgot to eat my banana and yogurt, causing my apron to be sticky and smell like rotten banana for the rest of the day. (Not fun when you also have Tootsie Rolls in there and they absorb the flavor.) Pulling the handcart was pretty sweet, though, even though I had to wear a skirt. (Definitely not fun.) We stood on the banks of the Sweetwater where the Sixth Crossing/Rescue of the Martin company took place, then walked into Martin's Cove. It has this really cool, but also really odd feeling in the cove. You can actually feel that something tragic happened there.

So, after that five mile hike, we got on the bus again and headed to our campsite where pretty much everyone crashed--or went to the pioneer dance thing, which I didn't go to since I was one of the people who crashed. (But can you blame me after not getting any sleep the night before?) The next day, we went on an eight mile hike with even heavier handcarts. And mosquitoes. Lots of mosquitoes. (Fortunately, I didn't get bitten like I had the night before. I swear, when I wear bug spray, it attracts the little buggers and when I don't, they avoid me like the plague.) I wish the guy with the video camera had been taping right before we got to the bridge, because I tripped over a rock and was dragged on my stomach by the handcart for about thirty feet before my "ma" took pity on me and suggested that I just let go. (Something I lacked the common sense to figure out on my own.) It was pretty funny, my "sister" told me after I assured everyone that I wasn't hurt. Then, we got to this pretty large--though not very steep--hill and they kicked all the men out and made them walk to the top. So it was just me, "ma" and my two "sisters" to pull the cart to the top. It was pretty easy, but one girl in another ward had an asthma attack that scared pretty much everyone. We got to the bottom of that hill and then we all sort of panicked. Because there was a hill just as tall as the previous hill and at an 8% grade. We got about halfway up, the strong guys pulling and the three girls pushing, when suddenly, we hit a headwind. Just our luck. But we made it to the top, where we ate lunch (I don't like jelly or wheat bread, but I scarfed that sandwich down like it was a chocolate bar). We continued along the top of the hill and finally, my little "sister" and I spotted a bathroom, and, after pushing and pulling a handcart nearly eight miles, the two of us sprinted for it.

But by far, the best part was the river. On the last day--yesterday--we were doing a river-fording trail. At one point, we had to walk through mud that smelled like cow pies, but then we reached the river. It was so cold my feet went numb, but it felt so good when we got back out and my skirt was soaked. We crossed it another time, then ended up at a wide, slow-moving section of the river where we all tried to dunk each other. (I only got dunked twice, once by the stake young women's president and another time while I was dunking my friend and fell over to pull her in.) Then, I stood and watched as everyone who wasn't wet enough for the wet people in my ward's taste got thrown into the river. It was pretty awesome.

Later that night, we drove to Rock Creek Hollow, which is where the rescue wagons were waiting for the Willie Company. I'm not an emotional person, as you all know, and there are only three things that have made me cry in the past year: Les Mis, A Tale of Two Cities and the common grave of the thirteen people who died from the journey up Rocky Ridge. It was just...tragic, for lack of a better word.

Although, I would've rather pulled a handcart the rest of the way home than ridden in the bus on the way home; it was absoultely miserable and by the time we reached Salt Lake, I was hallucinating and reading to commit murder for a nice, cold glass of lemonade. It was one of the most amazing experiences of my life.

Happy Independence Day

For as long as I can remember, this has been one of my favorite holidays. There's just something special about eating hot dogs and hamburgers and watching fireworks.

Probably the best Independence Day of my life was two years ago, when I spent it at my aunt's house in Fort Collins. We had a barbecue dinner at their neighbors' house, then sat in my aunt's backyard and watched the fireworks at the country club (maybe a quarter mile away). It was a ton of fun and there was just some sort of feeling to that day that I've never felt before. (Maybe it was because I had just finished school a month ago and one of my classes was American History?) Another favorite activity of mine apart from barbecue and fireworks is watching the movie Independence Day (the one with Will Smith and the aliens). Not exactly the most patriotic show, but still a great movie for the day.

This year, I decided to go all-American, and what better way to do that than go to a baseball game with the family? So we went to the local team's game last night. (Unfortunately, they beat us, 18-13. It was an incredible game, though.) And then, there was a sweet firework show, set to the tunes of Michael Jackson. I admit, there was a part of me that wanted to stand up and dance Thriller, but I resisted it.

So today, I'm wearing red, white and blue and planning on reading up a bit on American trivia. For instance, I learned today why the flag is red, white and blue. The answer is that there is no official meaning given, which is a lot better than what my brain was trying to tell me last night. (The reason why the French flag is blue, white and red.)

So have a happy Independence Day, everyone!

Sports

I have finally discovered the connection between my favorite sports--apart from swimming and basketball. (And chess, if that counts.)

Last night, I was at a baseball game, and it hit me. (Pun not intended.) In tennis and baseball, you hit the ball; in badminton you hit the birdie; and in lacrosse, you hit other people and their sticks. Therefore, my conclusion is that I just like hitting things with sticks and/or rackets.

Sparknotes, Cliff Notes and my Computer Mic

Today, I shall rant about three things I completely and utterly despise.

My computer mic is a piece of crap. I can sing a song perfectly, and it will turn my belted high notes into static and my non-belted high notes into a five-year-old kid's voice. On a video camera or my cell phone? Perfect. To anyone who happens to be in the room? Perfect. I hate this stupid mic! In other words, no Randomness Idol for me.

And Spark/Cliff notes are pretty much the worst things ever. I want to be an English teacher and I swear that if any student of mine ever uses them and gets caught, I will fail them. Teachers have you read those books for a reason and that reason is so that you can actually learn something from them. Just because they were written over a hundred years ago doesn't mean they're bad books. In fact, they're better than modern books, but--heaven forbid--they make you actually think while you're reading them. Now, I'm not the world's biggest fan of The Scarlet Letter or Wuthering Heights, but I'd pick them over the trash teens are reading today. I've lost count of the times where I'll be reading a favorite book and someone comes up to me and the following conversation or a similar one ensues:

Them: "What class are you reading that book for?"
Me: "I'm reading it for fun."
Them: "Fun? That has to be the dullest book ever!"
Me: "Have you read it?"
Them: "No. I couldn't get past the first sentence."
Me: "I see...Then how do you know whether or not the book is dull?"
Them: "Because it's old."
Me: "What does that have to do with anything."
Them: "Old books are dumb. They don't have anything to do with real life."
At this point, I have one of two different responses:
If they're holding a sci-fi/fantasy book, I burst into uncontrollable laughter.
Otherwise, I say, "Yes, it does. Now go away, I'm trying to read."

I've read modern books before, and apart from a very select few of them, they're utter drivel. There really isn't a point to them other than to tell a story--and in most cases, not even an entertaining one. So next time you're trying to recommend a book for me, do us both a favor and don't. Unless you happen to be an English teacher.