This is a story.
Attack of the stream-of-consciousness! Maybe I should go make a cake to celebrate this monumental event, one of those really big ones with whipped cream frosting since butter cream is heavy and sugary but as I haven't the foggiest notion of how to make a cake in the middle of Spain without an oven I suppose I can settle for a lovely empanada.

Zephania 3:17, it applies to my life in so many dimensions. "The LORD your God is with you, he is mighty to save. He will take great delight in you, he will quiet you with his love, he will rejoice over you with singing."

I'm nuts, but it runs in the family. I was driving home on the highway, windows rolled down and U2 blaring out of my cd player, feeling very free and wanting the summer to last much longer than I know it will. There's really nothing like this crazy college time, so much of the unknown, knowing enough to feel and be very alive but at the same time knowing that you don't know half as much as you'd like to know. Well. That's what the rest of life is for, I guess.

Autumn is my favorite time of the year. Something about the harvest, maybe it's because I'm a child of agriculture (technically. we -do- harvest black walnuts, remember) or that I grew up in a small town where the leaves turned vibrant colors in late September and the wind swept the splashes of brilliance over the roads and the playground and the backyard, when jumping into piles of leaves made Dad angry because he'd just finished raking them all together but it was fun anyway because they had an earthy, primitive smell that was simply delicious and irrisistible, when Mom started making stews and soups because it finally started to get chilly enough to justify making pots of them that simmered and boiled all day until supper when the whole family would gather together and eat and eat and eat.

I'm gonna go watch my brothers blow up stuff. Yay for fireworks viewed from atop the summit of the beloved Ozark Mountains.

Lakes are fun places to spend the weekend. Especially sprawled comfortable atop a straw mat on a deserted beach, French poetry and good ole Blue Eyes to keep me company.

How incredible, and I want you to be entirely honest with me, is a tall blended with whip vanilla latte? I'm revelling in the yummy sweet goodness at the moment while the wind outside reminds me that winter is somewhat unpleasant but heaters are glorious things and espresso is even better. Who were the Italians, anyway? Genius! Espresso -and- the best food in the whole universe …he said something about how cool it was when the musicians really mean what they sing, you can just feel it...ahhh, I love the rain.

should-have-been-a-summer-day:
It so often happens that I come to these pages (or the leaves of some other book) in search of a catharsis--I must vent! Poetry -will- be the overflowing of this flood of emotions! But then I open the book and stare at these hideously blank pages and find myself unable to grasp the thread of thinking I wish to convey, nor can I choose the appropriate medium of expression--I cannot begin! Alas! And since I am rendered mute by the stumbling block of the threat of beginnings I give up the fight and I -sigh- fail. But not now! No, now I will press on! My sole (yes, that means my foot) is blanketed with the warmth of sunshine--it passes over my hands, my arms, and the tip of my nose. It reminds me that summer draws ever closer and I struggle to decide whether or not to take French next semester. I will be blown away if I'm not careful; it's quite windy.

chocolate cake...mmmmmmmmm
AHHHHH, carb attack! How many carbs are in a slice of chocolate cake? And this late at night, I could get an ulcer or cancer or maybe lose an arm. Shame on me. ::mouth full of chocolate icing::I've got a title for my life, I think I'll call it, "There and Back Again: A Girl's Tale." And just in case you were worried, Tolkien stole it from me. I'm really a 100 year old woman trapped in a 20 year old body. (and that whole middle earth thing? yeah, that was my idea too) Mwahahaha. I can't wait to go to Stockton. Ah, the lake. I have a distinct memory of my brother David when he was about 3 and we were launching a boat from one of the docks, "Gandad, don't dwive into da yake. Dis is not a boatchaknow." Time to go. I need some protein to go along with all the carbs I've eaten.
Peanut butter!

ooooo, idea, let's call this a hegelian dialectical cycle and synthesize modern and post-modern to return to caveman days. c'est bon, non?