My Father's Daughter

On Thursday a friend invited me to go to Lake Powell. Completely unlike myself I took off with them on Friday and went. There were some things about the trip I really wish I could have changed, but there were some things that I couldn't get enough of. I couldn't get enough of the silence and the stars that I got to sleep under (when I found out a tent was broken and someone had to sleep under the stars, there was no getting me into a tent). I couldn't get enough of the red rocks or the cold water, or the sunsets, or the nostalgia. The whole time I was there I thought about people who I wished were with me. I missed my dad the most. He loves that lake. I could replay the times he took me, my mom and my brothers all over that lake and told me cool things about the landscape and boats and everything else.

I took a trip on a waverunner to the Glen Canyon Dam because he took us there in the boat and he thought it was so neat. As a child I wasn't impressed by much but I'm impressed now, and I love that he shared with me the things he thought were great. I wished I was camping with him and chatting under the stars in the dark with him. I thought about you all weekend. Then this morning in a sacrament meeting in Page, a little boy gave a talk and said he loved his dad because he showed him how to use the Priesthood and how to be a good man. I love that my brothers know how to be men. And until this weekend, I didn't realize what a precious commodity good men are.

I DO love Springville

too. It really is beautiful. I never thought I could live in a small town (and I've only been here for about 2 months) but this place is adorable. I love driving to and from church on Sunday because the houses and buildings are so old. And I can't help but wonder about all the things they've lived through. And every time I run here I can smell the freshly cut hay and see the sky so well. I wish I could describe it better.

I got on today to tell you that I re-realized yesterday that attitude makes a difference. This week has been colorful for me. On Tuesday night I was working on a group project in my last class at school and I got super frustrated. And I started to tear up. And I had to take a walk to calm down. This is weird because although the tears are unleashed during poignant movies and Relief Society, I don't usually cry in the Clyde building (tears on campus usually happen in the Wilk-once- and the Lib-also once) (or the walk back to the Riv-hundreds of times) My point was supposed to be that I don't cry a lot. Maybe I do, but heat exchangers and smoke stacks are rarely the catalysts. I was a little weirded out, but I pulled it together. Wednesday was worse. Some dumb stuff happened at school which would make anyone mad, but make anyone SOB? In the middle of class? With 8 other students? Yikes. I packed my things politely and walked out because I could not take sobbing with 8, 21 year old boys.

Sisters to the rescue. This time I sobbed (outside the Wilk) for an hour plus. Then couldn't go to my next class, or work, and I couldn't control the tears. It was a physical thing, and something I'm not used to. But I will deal with it, because that's what women do.

Thursday my poor niece was sick as all get out so I tried to do a little rescuing. I hope I helped. Later that night I got sick, and threw up a good 4 times throughout the night and could barely walk in the morning. So I stayed home Friday even though I was really excited about some research that needed to be talked about.

Saturday was spent in the Clyde doing that project. 11:30am- 9pm. I visited Bri and Cath afterwards (if Brian trys to tell you he had FIVE gotchas, don't believe him for a second) then went to get Becky and we were late to the see the fireworks show here in Springville. We parked at some random elementary school to watch them half-way through to the end.

As much as I hate giving travel logs there it was. On the way back from the fireworks show (and a trip to Taco Bell and Burger King to get all the items we wanted- TB doesn't have diet coke, I'll never understand) we talked about how this week and that whole day and night would have been so crappy if we were mad we were late for the fireworks. Or if I was mad I couldn't stop crying, or throwing up, or that I spent so much time on my dumb project.

If I had let Brian get to me when he pretended to have gotchas even though he thought Lauren Conrad was part of the The Refugees with Wyclef Jean (try and explain how that turned into 5 gotchas on ME) then I wouldn't have had such a fun time watching Cathy play with my phone the way Annabelle plays with my phone when I visit.