when mom comes to visit

Mom and Sarah left yesterday.

{insert deep sigh and hanging shoulders here}

They were here for almost a week, and we packed in most things on our Portland to-do list while still feeling relaxed and on vacation. In addition to shopping at Marshall's, Kohl's, Nordstrom Rack, Gymboree, Mill End, and Powell's, we baked a cake, homemade hamburger buns, and salted pretzel peanut butter M&M cookies; ate Mexican food, Thai food, and crepes; watched October Sky, the first season of Downton Abbey, several episodes of Andy Griffith, and saw Austenland in theaters; ate at Salt and Straw, hit up the zoo, and even canned some peaches. We clamored around Asher and applauded every thing he did and talked and lounged and stayed in vacation mode the whole time. I had such a fun time hanging with Sarah and celebrating her fifteenth birthday all week long.

Oh how I miss them.

I know that not every daughter can say this about her mother, but for me, life is just easier with Mom around. She loves my baby, makes me feel great at everything I do, fixes zippers on my dresses, and even folds my laundry. Some days living 1,280 miles apart is just really hard. Especially when just yesterday she was right in your kitchen.

Sigh, indeed.

lullaby prose, for Ayla

{My dear cousin Julie and her baby girl, Ayla}

My lullaby tonight is for another babe, one who is soon to return to her Father in Heaven.
Her time was too short for those of us left here.
Our hearts ache, our tears flow,
Perhaps our minds question why.
Tonight I pray for your sweet mother,
Whose goodbyes are tender and broken.
Let angels sing sweet lullabies,
Let angels' presence fill your room with light.
My prayers tonight are with you, precious babe,
As you leave this world for a sweeter one.
Wait for your mother as she finishes her work,
For she will continue to sing you lullabies.

grandma

She tickled my back after dinner.
If I didn't like the dessert she'd make another one just for me (even though I'm 22).
We'd have chats at bedtime instead of stories.
She said it was okay to pray over cakes I bake.
And if those cakes didn't turn out, she said it's okay to throw them.
She owned several white blouses.
She was always "pretty good for an old person."
Even though she couldn't see for the last few years, she always said I looked beautiful.
Whenever I'd dye my hair dark brown, she called me her "Indian princess." I never understood why, really.
We talked about books.
Yabba dabba dabba dabba dabba dabba dabba said the monkey to the chimp.
I had her number memorized by the time I was five.
I'm her namesake and am honored, though inadequate, to be so.
I've always been Little Charlotte.
I wish I could always be Little Charlotte, because if I were always Little Charlotte, there would always be an Older Charlotte around.
Someday I can be Little Charlotte again.

But not today.

saying something

Yesterday was a hard day for me, and as I was sitting outside the library waiting for Josh, tears trickling down my cheeks, a total stranger came up to me and asked if I was okay. I wasn't. Even though this girl couldn't do anything to improve my current situation she approached me anyway.

Some people may accuse BYU of being a bubble and not in touch with the "real world," but when you have a campus with people on it who will offer to comfort a complete stranger, well, that says something.

a eulogy for a friend

When my hot cocoa spilled all over my desk on Monday, I thought you were safe, that the cocoa had innocently seeped underneath you, leaving your insides intact. But I was wrong. Somehow it got inside and ruined you. The last thing I listened to on you was the third HP book. That was nice. You were a loyal and dependable friend for three or so years. Sometimes you were like an extra appendage. Now you're dead. Forever. I tried charging you, but you just crackled.

Now I have to find a new one.

Rest in peace, 30GB iPod Classic.

blame it on Chase

So months back, Chase bank bought out WaMu, my bank. My banking needs are simple and straightforward, so I haven't given much thought to the change. Yesterday in the mail I received my new Chase debit card. I was a little resentful at first, because I didn't want a new debit card. Now I have to change all my online shopping info and my automatic payments. Oh well.

Anyway, last night after I activated my new card, I took out my wallet and inserted the new card into its new place. Then I forgot to put my wallet back into my purse.

Fast forward to 6:40 this morning as I see the bus peak over the horizon at Simms and 32nd Ave, heading my way. My wallet is at home. I'm at the bus stop needing to get to work downtown.

Shammit.

I beg my way onto the bus, promising I'll pay double tomorrow. I don't think he believed me, but I'll show him tomorrow morning when I insert $4 into the fare box instead of $2.

I think there's a WaMu on 16th Street Mall where I can go withdraw the $2 for the ride home.

I never would have touched my wallet if I hadn't needed a new debit card. This is all Chase's fault.

I'm looking forward to . . .

I was texting Mom tonight and was feeling a little melancholy, so she suggested we play the "I'm Looking Forward To" game. Here's what I came up with for this week:

• my plans to go to the temple on Tuesday
• Elder Holland's devotional this week
• finding out the staff organization for our class magazine in my capstone editing class
• my Tolstoy class, in which last class I didn't even think to look at the clock and was thoroughly disappointed when the bell rang
• the pages of my page-a-day Eats, Shoots & Leaves calendar

My week is looking a little better :) Thanks, Mom :)

Anything in particular you're looking forward to?

back in Provo

On Thursday, Mom, Dad, Emily, and I all made the trek out to Provo for yet another school year. We drove the truck and the beaten up Toyota (the latter of which has no A/C) and it was kind of a long drive out there . . . .

Dad putting air into the tires before we left.

My breakfast: leftover birthday cake.


Mom filling up the truck in Grand Junction.


All of the stuff at my feet--it was a very full car.


The disgusting Provo traffic that greeted us when we arrived nine hours later.

It was such a fun weekend, and I'm way excited about my new apartment and my new roommates; however, last night was not fun and was way way sad. What's different for me this year is that things aren't that different for just me, if that makes any sense. . . . I'm just going into another school year at BYU: I've said goodbye to my family before, I've lived on my own before, I know what I'm doing. I'm experiencing the least amount of change out of everyone in my family. What was so hard for me was knowing how scared and sad Emily is and how sad and lonely Mom feels, knowing that there's only so much I can do.

Last night was hard for me because I knew the significant change the rest of my family was experience, while I was basically doing the same thing I've been doing for the past two years.

It was hard. It is hard.

It's just so different feeling like nothing is really too different for me this year. That's the only way I can think of to explain it, even though it doesn't make much sense. Mom's and Emily's blogs show a better sense of what they're feeling--everyone is scared and sad because of different things, different unknowns. The only thing I can think of to do is just press forward, knowing there's a plan.

Here's to another school year, the same and different all at the same time.

a eulogy for Stella

Right before my junior year, a woman in our ward called me up and said that she was getting a new car and wondered if I wanted her old Rabbit, free of charge. Heck yes! So began the Stella Saga. I got sweet seat covers for her for my birthday and named her Stella, which I thought was an appropriate name given her awesomeness. She served me well for the rest of my high school years, and just last weekend we sold her.

Stella had her fair share of problems. She needed a new clutch when I first got her, and a man in my stake offered to find the part and install it if I would just take his son from seminary to school everyday--easy peasy, lemon squeezy!! Stella and I were meant to be. The battery would die if it was too cold outside, and sometimes I accidentally left the lights on, killing the battery: these adventures with the battery taught me many lessons, not the least of which being how to use jumper cables. I always kept jumper cables in the back of my car, and I knew how to use them.

Stella also was the car on which I learned how to drive a stick: a miserable experience, but if I can drive Stella, I can drive any car on the face of the planet.

Stella had several idiosyncrasies: the heat would never go completely off and would only come up out of the defrost vents; there was a weird whistling sound connected to the speakers, and when I'd accelerate, the whistling would get more high-pitched; no A/C; a manual convertible; you couldn't shift directly into first gear, but had to rather go into second and wiggle your way into first; the gas gauge didn't work, so everytime I went to the gas station, I had to fill up completely and rely on the odometer to know how much gas I had left; when it rained, Stella let some of the rain into the car, gracing you with a nice, sloshy puddle on the passenger's side; when the car was idle, the battery would sometimes threaten to die, so I had to rev the engine to get the battery back up, and people would think I was trying to be cool when really I was trying to keep my car alive.

I had several adventures with Stella, including running out of gas on the way from seminary at least twice, hitting a pedestrian, getting my first (and so far only) speeding ticket, getting a flat tire after running over the curb on a sharp turn, several mysteriously dead batteries, a faltering alternator, and going the completely wrong way on Colfax Avenue for several miles.

If she would have made it over the mountains, I totally would have taken her to school with me. Alas, she had to stay in our driveway when I left, and when I came back for the summer last year, she didn't work. We managed to get her up and running for about a month, and then a cocky missionary said he could fix her and he killed her. She hasn't moved since.

Last week, some guys came by wondering if Stella was for sale. She was. They took her and planned on fixing her up. Her spot in the driveway is now empty.

Today, Emily saw her on the side of the road with a "For Sale" sign in her window. Who knows what her future holds now . . .

Stella, you were good to me. You had to go, because you didn't work. I still love you. I will miss you. You will always have a special place in my heart as my first--very junky--car.

progress

So, here's an update on the homesick situation. Things are way better. The weekend was a good turning point, and I haven't cried since Thursday. One of the things I decided to do--and while it sounds dorky, it's true--was to not listen to Harry Potter all the time. It's definitely an indulgence thing, but I thought I'd had enough indulgence and so I've been mixing HP listening with upbeat, boosting music. It's been working. I've been keeping myself busy and productive, and I am so thankful for Katelyn who has been so helpful and supportive while I've been ridiculously emotionally unbalanced. So, yeah. Things are good. I'm feeling good about school and church and life. I really want to enjoy this semester, not just endure it, so that's what I decided to do. At the beginning of the week, I told myself, "Charlotte, get over it. Suck it up and enjoy your life." It didn't have immediate effect, but it's slowly been working its way through my system.

I've been listening to my Pretty Much You Rock My Socks mix, the High School Musical 2 soundtrack, and John Mayer. It's been good. So, onto another subject, school is going well this semester; I already have midterms next week, so that's no fun, but at least January is almost over. I'll have to do a celebratory post about the end of January when it comes. Well, off to write more articles and do some homework, and then par-tay away the rest of the weekend!

i don't even know how to explain this one . . .

This is my Bear wearing the hat that Sarah knitted me on a loom for Christmas. I've been sleeping with them this way for the past week. I combine them for optimal crying comfort. Ha.

hanging on

I don't know why, but going back to school this winter has been unbelievingly hard for me this year. I've been monstrously homesick ever since I got back and it has not been easy. Dad called me the other day and basically as soon as I answered, the tears started streaming and the pathetic sounding "I miss you," squeaked out into the phone. I've been just hanging by a thread since school started and I try and keep things under control, but then usually at night, I just let it all go. Yesterday I was actually doing okay--I shed a few momentary tears when I got back from work, but overall, I felt I was making progress toward emotional functionality; then I got an email from my brother, the subject line reading: 'I hope this doesn't make you cry as it is for me.' And the waterworks . . . I was way excited to get an email and so not surprised that it made me cry. Good grief. It's a weird emotion actually--I hate feeling so homesick and lonely, but at the same time, it feels good to cry sometimes. I am hoping however, that things will improve this week.

Something I was thinking about last night actually that really helped me feel better, was that I know my family is praying for me and that (thankfully) prayer works. Miles don't matter when it comes to prayer effectiveness. Even my 14-year-old brother is remembering me in his prayers (which naturally merited another wave of tears) and it's amazing to feel that strengthening power. So, here's to the beginning-ish of a new week and hopefully one that is less teary.