Friday, October 24, 2008


I'm fully convinced that my family does it on purpose. there's just no other way there could be so many objects, so cleverly and strategically placed around the house and yard in just a certain way so I inevitably trip or stumble. it's a dark conspiracy, plotted against and me (and my big sister, too. she suffers just as much, if not more, than I do). then again, it might just be my natural clumsiness.

I trip over everything. I trip over nothing. if it's on the floor, I'll trip on it. if it's hanging from the ceiling, I'll bang my head on it. if it's protruding from the wall (trust me, it happens) I'll likely puncture my spleen on it.

One night, it was dark (imagine that) and I was about to go to bed, and had to go brush my teeth, so I go out of my bedroom into the dark hallway on my way to the bathroom, and seriously, there was this chair sitting right in the middle of the hallway! so I trip over it, of course. horribly. I did like a cartwheel over the thing. then I sheepishly go brush my teeth and on my way back to my room, I guess I'd forgotten about the chair cause...yeah...another cartwheel. embarrassing didn't even begin to describe my humiliation. I almost dumped the chair over the railing, but then I heard that little voice of Wisdom saying reproachfully, "Ah ah ah. hurling a chair down a flight of stairs at three in the morning while everybody's asleep is counter-productive." and so I grudgingly shuffled back to bed, with one last glare at the chair, swearing vengeance at a later date.

I've also found out that Foosball (not to be confused with football) is a very dangerous game. not only do I have to be on my guard against those poky sticks jabbing violently at my internal organs, but I also have to constantly be watching for the ball to spontaneously rocket at my face going a bazillion miles per hour at any given time WHILE trying valiantly to win the game. it's certainly an adventure, no doubt about it. a big, scary, life-threatening adventure.

I imagine it kinda like that book...Nightmare Academy, by Frank Peretti. where those people had that kid in game...or vortex or something...and he was totally confused all the time and stumbled over stuff and was generally miserable...and the ground was on the ceiling or something...come to think of it, I never really understood that book at all. his second one, the one about the spiders, was better. if you ever have a choice, read that one. the first one really makes no sense, and yet vaguely pertains to my current topic of choice.

Anyways, back to the topic! short of actually wrapping myself in bubble wrap when I get out of bed in the morning, there's really not a whole lot I can to do remedy the problem. because...I trip over things that aren't there. so just being more careful isn't going to do a whole lot for me. actually, bubble wrap doesn't sound too horrible. in fact, might be kinda fun. but knowing me, I'd pop all the bubbly things for fun, and when I needed them, they'd all be popped, and I'd end up breaking my neck stepping over a leaf or something. Oh well. BUBBLE WRAP!

"Walk The Line" Johnny Cash. I don't understand why nobody else in my fambly likes this guy! he's amazing!!

Sunday, October 12, 2008

Hey, Remember That Time...

Memories are strange things. it is a rare moment when I allow myself the luxury to simply remember. I love to remember. I think that's why I'm such a packrat. if something brings back a memory--happy or sad--I'll keep whatever it is, no matter if it's a broken balloon, a shredded ribbon or a bottle of sand. those are just three of the many things that I actually keep to this day tucked away somewhere (for a reason!!). the memories are precious, and the memories are mine, and if I have to keep the piece of wadded up tinfoil to make me remember, so be it. that's a real example, too. my dad came into my room one day and randomly molded a piece of tinfoil into a DNA sculpture (Yeah, I know, I was confused, too) and I laughed really hard, so I kept the piece of tinfoil. I got so horribly teased for keeping it, but I don't regret it at all. so there.

So just the other day, I was sitting here thinking about this old book my parents used to read to me called "The Sailor Dog". I remembered that I had the book in my hope chest, so I went to get it so I could read the book. random, I know. so I sit down on the floor and open the chest. it had been a long, long time since I had opened it and I had quite forgotten what was in there. and so began my journey down Memory Lane.

The first thing that I saw was my Red Blankie. Ah, Red. he and I were good friends back in the day. he's--you guessed it--red, with patches with kittens on them. just the right size for anything. anything at all. a cape, a raft, a table, Red was any and everything I wanted him to be.

Next, I saw the Scottish flag. I brought it back from Scotland for one of my little sisters, but once when I found it laying around I snatched it up and kept it, for memory's sake. ah, Scotland. I remember it well. the children, the green hills dotted with sheep, the accents, the haggis, the work, the fun. I remember it all.

The small yellow pillow comes next. hand-stitched by my great-grandmother, it's a soft yellow with a Precious Moments girl on it, and it has my name "Johanna Christine" neatly stitched on the front. for as long as I can remember, this pillow has adorned my bed.

Next, I came to the toy that probably holds the most memories of anything I own: my stuffed teddy bear, Mup. his name is a really long, boring story, so I won't tell it. I'll just say that Mup is in, like, every childhood memory I have until about my tenth birthday. from tea parties to sleepless nights to doctor visits, Mup remains Johanna's most faithful childhood companion.

I smile when I see the small water bottle shaped like Paul Bunyan laying in the bottom of the chest. I remember that fateful day. not well, mind you, but I remember it nevertheless. the day we went to the zoo. I was probably about three years old. Nikki, Jim and I had been given water bottles. Nikki's and mine were shaped like Paul Bunyan, and Jim's was shaped like a train. we were looking down into the seal pool, and Jim drops his train--plop!--into the water. I remember standing on my tiptoes looking with fascination as Jim's train bobs up and down on the water. I remember it caused quite a stir, both with the people on land and with the seals. and if you're wondering, in the end Jim did get his train back.

Books. books I'd forgotten I'd kept. mostly old books from when I was a kid. books that I want to read to my own kids. "Fritz and the beautiful horses", "Mister Dog", "My Christmas wish" (starring Johanna Trexel, yes, it's true), "When bunny grows up" and "Chester". (and Sailor Dog, of course. that's the reason I'm in the chest, remember?). Ah, the memories of being cuddled up to Dad in his large rocking chair, listening to him read about the dog "who belonged to himself" or the "very dependable pony". Dad would always read to us to get us to take our nap, but inevitably it would be Dad who fell asleep, and we would spend the rest of the afternoon trying to sneak out of his lap without waking him up. kinda like that "Don't Wake Daddy" game only...with very real consequences. :)

Next I come to a small white bunny puppet dressed like a pilot. it's old, yet still extremely soft, despite the years of play. I don't really remember how I came to own this one. all I really know about him is that he, like Red, was a part of my childhood from the moment I was old enough to have memories.

Heidi, my stuffed horse falls next in line. Heidi takes my memories south to San Angelo, Texas, where I spent a few golden years of childhood. Heidi was given to me as a birthday present, handmade by one of my friend's parents. I was never allowed to play with her too much, because my parents were afraid I'd wear her down to tatters. so while Heidi herself doesn't appear in too many memories, she reminds me much of Texas, were I think I spent the best years of my life, so I will treasure her always.

There were so many more things in there that I could go on about: the T-shirt that I got at summer camp that I couldn't bear to throw away, the china plate given to me by one of my friends from Scotland, a few newspapers with famous stories on the front page, a pink flyswatter (with some very interesting memories attached) and so much more.

Oh, and if you were wondering, the broken balloon was salvaged from my father's 40th birthday party. it was black and Nikki had drawn funny pictures on it. the shredded ribbon was kept as a remembrance to pray for one of my friends who was sick. the bottle of sand is sand Nikki and I collected from the Great Sand Dunes.

Yay for memories!! :D

"Come Sail Away" --Styx. this song is so pretty. I love it! and it's, I dare say, relevant to this blog (but then, we all know I did that on purpose). and I TOTALLY saw them sing this in concert, yes I did.