Swimming

Another of my pastimes that has been, sadly, left to the past.
  

When we lived in California, there were community pools everywhere.  Mom would take us nearly everyday in the summer, and we would play all day in the pool.  Our favorite one was, well, we called it "Cripple Creek." (which I now realize is completely wrong and utterly rude, but, come on, I was a kid)  It was a pool with adjustments for the handicapped.  For example, they had a ramp going into the pool, along with stairs.  We loved playing on the ramp.  I forget the real name of it, something with a 'W' or maybe a 'P'?  I think it was sort of a long name.  That pool was deep, too.

Also, we lived next to the ocean.  Mind you, not right on the ocean, we had to drive a bit.  So on rarer occasions, (too rare, I think.  It really wasn't that far) we would drive down to the ocean for a swim.  Now that I think of it, I can't really remember going to the beach any time other than for the corn roast.  

Oh the corn roast.  The corn roast was a church event, usually held a short few days after Independence Day.  Let me describe it to you.  Our family would pack into the car, with all our swimming gear and all that, we would pick up some KFC, always KFC, and drive to the beach.  I remember, there was always a skywriting plane writing some couples initials in a heart or something.  Always.  And there were always huge fluffy cotton-ball clouds that would spur discussions between us kids about how much we wanted to flop onto them.  

When we got to the corn roast, we would spread our towels out and start eating our KFC.  Then, we would go play in the ocean until the corn was ready.  We would find our friends from church and play around with them.  Once, my brother got stung by a jellyfish during this time.  Later, we would grab some of the corn and feast.  It was delicious.  Later still, we would gather around one of the big fire pits and roast marshmallows.  There were so many kids there that you could really only roast one marshmallow, and, since you had to fight and fight hard for a good roasting spot, it usually wasn't that well-roasted.  When night fell, we would head home, and wait for next year's corn roast.

As you can see, I grew up swimming.  (And I even forgot to mention Lake Powell and Lake Havasu.)  Now, onto the sad part.  This summer, I put on my bathing suit a grand total of 6 times.  Six!  Let me tell you why that number is so small.  First of all, all of June was cloudy and rainy.  Second of all, when your lake freezes over in the winter, you have to wait until it warms up to a reasonable temperature, and it usually doesn't ever warm up to a reasonably warm temperature.  So the only thing the lake is good for is a) tubing and boating, b) cooling off after laying out.  My dad took the boat in the divorce, so there goes option a, and I absolutely hate laying out.  Phlewww, whoops that was the sound of option b dying.  Please read the following dialogue.

Sister: Hey come to the beach with us.

Me: No, the beach is boring.

Sister's friend: Please come! it will be so much fun!

Me: No, all you do is lay out, and that's boring.

Sister's friend: I love swimming, I'm gonna swim a lot!

(the conversation continues in this fashion until I either relent or they get bored and leave.  In this demonstration I will relent.)

at the beach

*the group spreads out towels, lays down*

*I read book, get excruciatingly bored and hot*

Me: Let's go swimming.

Them: In a bit.

*time passes*

*the group jumps in the water, plays around for 5 minutes, gets back out*

*scene repeats until we finally leave*

That's why I try to avoid going to the beach.  Excuse me, the lake shore.  It is torture.

I think I realized the exact reason why I don't swim so much any more.  Other than the aforementioned ones.  See, my mom would lay out all the time.  And I was always the last one to leave the pool, so that means that as a kid, I had no trouble entertaining only myself.  Now, it would look odd if I were playing the same games as when I was younger.  So there's nothing for me to do except float around and stuff.  Which is kinda boring.  Mystery solved.

Reading

I don't do enough of it.  Reading, that is.  Want proof?  When I was trying to think of a post title, I wanted something clever or profound or thought-provoking, but instead all I got was "Reading."  If I read more, I would have had at least four different titles in my head to choose from.  

When I was a wee child, I read constantly.  I don't really remember when I started reading so avidly, but I know when I stopped.  I remember, in middle school, every morning before school started, I would be in the library, lingering in book shelves I'd already been through, leafing through books I'd already examined.  I would check out one or two books before the bell rang and head to class.  In the middle of the morning, there was a period devoted to reading only.  You couldn't talk in that period; you couldn't even study or do other homework.  Purely reading time.  And during that time I would get started on a book I'd checked out.  Also sometimes during class, when the opportunity presented itself, like if I had finished my homework early, or if we had a few minutes before the bell rang, I would crack open a book.  Then I would read on the bus ride all the way home.  When I got home, I would head straight up to my room, curl into my armchair, and read until dinnertime.  Even if I had homework, that would wait until after dinner.  Once homework was finished, it was usually bedtime, so I would hop into bed, my mom would tuck me in, and I would take out my little old cellphone for a light and read until the late hours of the night.  Usually I would finish the book, return it in the morning, and resume browsing in the stacks.  I stopped reading during the summer between eight grade year and freshman year.

Another sign that my reading skills are rusty: my vocabulary has... see, I'm trying to think of a specific word and I can't.  My vocabulary reservoir has been greatly depleted.  "Greatly."  In the olden days, I would have said something like, "Significantly" or something.  

My spelling and grammar are also a little worse for wear.  I was the girl who could have won the District spelling bee if I had wanted.  But I didn't want to, so I misspelled "superintendent."  On purpose.  Now I want to spell things right, but I make little letter switches, and I can't see the word clearly in my head, like I used to.

 I'm stuck reading the same few books: Catch-22, Life of Pi, and the first few chapters of Gone with the Wind.  Obviously this needs to stop.  I need to reinvigorate myself with a love of reading.  I just don't know how.  I've already read all the books from the downstairs book closet that I want to, and the Fiction section at the local library scares me.  There, every time you turn your head there's another cheap romance novel.  Who wants to read those?  So I confine myself to the Non-fiction section and wander past the biographies, gardening, carpentry, and art books.  I really don't mind them all, I've actually learned a lot from the Non-fiction shelves, but it's hard to throw yourself into a book like that, where everything is real and boring.  

I think if I just find some good books, I'll be set, and I'll start reading again.  I want to know that a good book is waiting for me at home, that someone else's life and problems are lying in my chair, ready for me to pick up at anytime, and that I can shut anytime I want.  I love reading, but I just can't!

Fur Collage

Hello.  So, ever since last post, I've been even more obsessed with furs and animal pelts and such.  I've been combing through websites thick with fur pictures, from ones of women draped in vintage furs, to galleries of furs used in modern designs.  And today, I am going to send a barrage of those photos your way.  Here we go.

I think my future husband and I should dress in matching fur coats.

This is a classic picture.  With the happy smirk, the brush of hair falling in her face, the hand clutching her coat closed, the sun streaming through the trees.  Classic.

I love the strategic shearing with these coats. (Yes, I almost made the "shear perfection" joke)

Look at that hood.  I feel like you could disappear into that hood.  It'd be like a little retreat for your face during an ethereal ramble in the woods through the snow-laden trees.

This one looks like its another traipse in the crisp air.  But not a forest, this one's a frost-covered field in November.

This one is just incredibly sexy.  It needs no words.

I think this is the one my dad is getting for me!  Isn't she cute?

This is beyond words.  How absolutely, excruciatingly awesome.  Girls, don't tell me you're not irresistibly attracted to this man.  Guys, you know you want one of these yourself so you can be as BA as this guy.

Well, this is the end of my fur photos.  Hope you had fun.  Did you enjoy that last one?  I wish that guy was my uncle.  Holy moses, I just noticed the fur bikinis his women are wearing.  I want one of those hats.

Productive Day. Haha, NOT.

So, pretty much all I've done today is sit around on the computer.  Although I did leave the house today.  But I have a good reason for any non-male, intimate friend who asks.  It's impolite to discuss such matters in mixed company or in such open conversations. 
Anyway, so guess what I've mainly been doing.  Listening to The Doors and looking at nightgowns and fox stoles on Etsy.  Wanna know why?  I was looking at nightgowns, because I have a resolution (not a New Year's Resolution, just a plain old one) to start wearing nicer, lacier, floatier, smoother, sexier, sheer-er things to bed.  I want to throw out my old ratty oversized T-shirts and replace them with chemises and step-ins and nightgowns.  I think that would make sleeping so much more enjoyable.  Think about it: to step out of your day clothes and put them away at the closet, then to reach up to the top shelf and pull down the fabric treasure.  Out slithers a feathery garment, which you gently slip over your curl-adorned head.  The breezy fabric bunches a little, then falls down your body and settles in its natural position. You turn out the light and dash over to your freshly-made bed, your nightdress floating out behind your body.  You leap on the bed and slip between the crisp white sheets. Your pillow clouds around your sleepy head, and you drift off into golden slumbers.

This is the only one that closely resembles picture I have in my mind of what I'm looking for. So far.

I was looking at fox stoles, because I added a new Daisy to my list: "Own a real fox stole, or any animal fur clothing."  Now, I know that everyone thinks they're bad and all, and I'm totally against animal cruelty and all that, but I can't help but like them!  Its something about their hopeful glass eyes and downcast faces that captures my heart and imagination.  These poor creatures have been doused with red paint and scorned and denounced as barbaric and have been abandoned in antique stores and the attics of old women.  I just want to adopt all of them!  I think they're sweet.  After all, it would be a wasteful death for those sweet animals if all they're doing is sitting in some grandmother's trunk.  They should be loved.

Look how cute he is!  I'm super tempted to to email my dad to buy him for me.  

Well, anyway, I should probably get back to... doing nothing.  Maybe I'll get to bed early tonight. HAHA. That's funny.  Well, Bye!

OH!  Did you notice that I remodeled my blog?  It took me a good few hours.  Hope you like it.

People

Ok, first: It was divorce, more on that in a later post, I just want to write about this while I still have this feeling. So recently (about 2 minutes ago actually) I read this article: http://news.yahoo.com/s/afp/20110201/sc_afp/brazilperunativerights_20110201110827 about this "uncontacted" tribe of people. First emotion: I feel that it's strange that these people have been living like this without any knowledge of the outside, modern world, and that we haven't known about them until these photographs. I feel that it's curious how these humans, creatures of the same species, can be living alone without the rest of the species' knowledge. That doesn't happen with smaller numbers of creatures. I kind of like it though, in a way. It's like they have their own secret existence, with their own rules. I like the idea of this remnant of the past. Which brings me to my second impression: That these people are a link to another forgotten world. Or perhaps not a link, but more like they were accidentally left here when the rest of the world moved on. Or maybe that they started late and haven't caught up to the rest of us. I guess I could think of it as a real life version of those historical sites where they have people dressed like and talking like the people who used to live there. Anyway, I think it's strange that these people have just been living like they always have, and that they haven't gone through their own Enlightenment, or Revolution, or anything like that. Well, not "strange," it makes sense, but maybe "interesting" would be more appropriate. It's amazing that they have just been left to themselves for all this time, as wars and innumerable changes are going on in the big world. This is refreshing. And also a bit mysterious. These tribes are like secret pockets of the past.

I Don't Know What's Going On!

I don't know what's going on but I'm completely worried. I've been analyzing the evening and finding probably nonexistant problems. My mom sent us kids out to eat and we went to Mongolian Barbecue. Right before we left my sister came downstairs and mouthed, "Dad's home." and then we took off. I didn't realize anything was going on, but then on our way home my dad called my sister on the phone and their conversation had something to do with something someone had told my two siblings, and how the someone hadn't told me. I think the "someone" is my mom. I'm not sure what the "something" is but I'm worried it might be divorce. See, last spring my dad threatened to file a divorce and that was the first I knew of any marital problems, but I'm probably not that intuitive, so I might not have picked up on anything. Ever since then my mom has been explaining and complaining about their marriage. I'm really worried and my parents aren't home and I don't know what to do. Ok, I'm done. Oh I'm so worried!

No, I didn't drop off the face of the earth.

Ok, so. hmm... What to write about... Oh I know! School's starting in a few days :( Um, I'm finally taking Driver's Ed, and, if I do say so myself, I'm a pretty good driver considering I've only driven three times.

I've pretty much found my calling in life: to endlessly read fashion blogs, wear beautiful clothes, and live in luxury and jewelry for the rest of my life. Oh, and stay young forever. Ahh, if I were in charge of the world...

Ok, so part of the reason I haven't been on in a few months is that my tyrannical father turned off the internet for the summer. I've been forced to frequent visits to the library, which isn't easy if you don't have a car and everyone who does has other plans. I've also been going to my dad's shop when his employees are all gone, since he still has internet. Oh, did I mention he got a new, completely superfluous computer also? Hypocrite.

OH SHOOT!! I just remembered I had to be at my friend's house an hour ago! Ok Bye!