Found this on Sophia's blog and thought, since my last two entries have brought up a lot of old memories, it'd be a good conclusion to my little flashback. I dreamed last night about high school and The Boy; I'm ready to close the vault.

1. Who was your best friend?  Chris, although we didn't meet until the summer after my sophomore year. She went to a different high school than I, which I think made it easier.
2. What kind of car did you drive?  A 1972 Ford Torino, brown. I already mentioned the lovely AM radio; it also had black vinyl seats and the gas gage didn't work. I think I ran out of gas at least a dozen times before I could finally afford to buy a decent car. Those were, obviously, the pre-cell-phone days and I'm amazed nothing bad ever happened during those walks to a gas station to call my dad. Oh, and did I mention: it also didn't have any brake lights. Special.
3. It's Friday night. Where were you?  Dancing somewhere, usually The Ritz in SLC. Or sometimes we'd just drive around---I didn't think of it this way then, but now I think of it as hunting, stalking down something to do, preferably somewhere we'd bump into our respective Boys.
4. Were you considered a flirt?  No, I don't think so. I grew up with three sisters and a dad who was sort of a background figure; I didn't have any boy cousins I ever hung out with. So teenage boys were like alien creatures to me. I had no idea what I was doing or how to flirt. One of my started-out-as-a-good-friend-but-stabbed-me-in-the-back friends, Tara, tried to teach me how to flirt. BUT I think if I were single again, I would be a flirt now, albeit a sarcastic one.
5. Were you in the band, orchestra, or choir?  No, although I tried to play the viola for one week in seventh grade. Everyone else already knew how to read music and I was so in over my head. I transferred to an extra science class.
6. Were you a nerd? Hmmmm...a nerdy goth is hard to imagine.
7. Who was your favorite teacher? I didn't have one in high school, but my first grade teacher, Mr. Averett, and my fifth grade teacher, Mr. Strong, had impacts on me that I still feel. Mr. Averett even made sure to come to my university graduation! (Of course, he's a professor now at BYU, so he didn't really come for me, but it was still cool to see my favorite-ever teacher in that line of professors.)
8. What was your school mascot? The red devil, which prompts a huge controversy every four or five years.
9. Did you go to the Prom?  No. The only formal dance I went to was the winter dance during my sophomore year. I went with this guy who looked like Adam Sandler and I only went because The Boy was going (with someone else, obviously) and I wanted to see him all spiffed up. (Can you tell The Boy and I had ISSUES???) I wore my friend Christie's maroon velvet dress and I hated it. After the dance my mom and I drove to the gas station to get a drink, in our pajamas (the gas station had a drive-through window), and that trusty Torino? Ran out of gas, so a policeman drove us home in his cruiser.
10. Did you have a job your senior year?  I didn't actually go to my high school my senior year; I went to the local community college instead. But, I did have a job: the very famous Nifty's restaurant (waitresses on roller skates and 50s music; that was maybe one of the worst four months of my life, for many reasons but not the smallest was I was the fry cook, which is just lovely for the complexion!) during the summer and until Christmas, and then I got a job at WordPerfect doing data entry; I ended up working there for six years.
11. What year did you graduate? 1990 (although, since I went to the college instead of the high school, they wouldn't let me graduate with them, so I didn't walk; this is also why I don't get invited to the class reunions.)
12. Would you/have you go to your class reunion reunion? I'm not invited, but I don't think I'd go even if I was. There are a few people I would like to see, but not enough for all the anguish.

And with that, I'm off to organize closets. Wheeeeeee!

I am cracking up over this comment that my sister Becky left on yesterday's post: "It seems strange to remember YOU playing Def Leopard, because they never seem to fit into your musical taste." Well, of course she wouldn't remember me listening to Def Leppard, because it wasn't something I'd ever admit to. It just so happens that my friend Chris and I ended up stranded in a cabin in the mountains in January with a few other friends, and the only tape anyone thought to bring was Hysteria. I think we listened to it 89 times that night, over and over (because when you're sixteen you can't exist without music in the background, right?). I never actually owned a Def Leppard album. But if I happened to catch one of the Hysteria videos on MTV, I wouldn't reach for the remote.

Her comment is especially timely, though, because yesterday my neighbor called me. "Hey," she said, "we're going to see Richard Marx tonight, and we've got two extra tickets. Do you know who he is? Do you and Kendell want to come with us?" Geez. Speaking about music I'd never confess to listening to. No self-respecting, black-eyeliner-wearing, silver-toed-lace-up-boots-owning goth girl would ever confess to listening to Richard Marx. But the summer I was sixteen (a summer I wrote about a bit in this post) I did. I loved every single song on his first album. I bought the tape; I listened to the tape (in my old Ford Torino that only had an AM radio, so I'd bring along my enormous boom box, sitting in the front seat like an extra passenger), I still own the tape. But I bet Becky never heard those songs coming from my bedroom, either. I was embarrassed to like Richard Marx.

Isn't it nice to grow up? We definitely went to the concert. It was at the Scera Shell, which is a small concert venue in Orem; a stage and grassy amphitheater, plastic lawn chairs or bring-your-own-blanket, convenience-store nachos and enormous Cokes at the concession stand. I'd never been to a concert there; in fact I generally try to stay away from concerts, since the Adult Concert Experience is generally a let down. (It was much more fun as a teenager, when there were boys to chase and, well...etc.) Last night, the venue was filled with thirty/early-forty somethings. And the concert was amazing.

Admittedly, he played quite a few songs I didn't know. But he played all those old songs from the summer of 1988. I think my neighbors thought Kendell and I were a little strange, but we still sang along with all the lyrics we knew (especially good was "Shoulda Known Better"). He was excellent with the crowd, talking and telling stories; he seemed to genuinely appreciate the applause and cheers, and joked about the age of many of the songs ("I wrote this one in 1912" and other jibes). I kept thinking about that summer when I loved those songs; I listened to them despite the threat of goth-girl ridicule because they said things I felt but couldn't say yet. I think, too, that they somehow made the way I felt stronger, as if giving those emotions validation. I couldn't help but wonder what that version of myself would think about my current incarnation, mid-thirties and a few grey hairs, plenty of kids and a mortgage and a thousand worries I never imagined having. I think she'd be a little disappointed that I've not been more successful. But I think she'd also be glad I was there and still remember those songs---that I still remember her.

Lately I've been thinking a lot about the impact music has on your life. Maybe because of a conversation I had with Haley a few weeks ago. The radio station I listen to does "Way Back Wednesdays," when they play 80s/late 90s music all day, and she's learned to just leave the station alone on those days. "But Mom," she asked one fairly grumpy Wednesday while I was driving her to a friend's house, "all these songs are so old. Why do you still like them?" I explained to her that some songs are like bookmarks; they hold a place for you in the narrative of your memories. When, say, New Order's "Bizarre Love Triangle" comes on, for a few seconds I am instantly back at the one and only high school stag dance I ever went to; I can remember just how the night air felt, how anxiety pricked at the small of my back, the relief I felt when I finally spotted a friend. Or INXS's "Need You Tonight" takes me back to summer nights at the little reservoir in the canyon. I tried to explain how, quite often, you get tied to a memory by way of a song. It doesn't really matter how good the song is, really; it's all coincidence. She looked at me in a strange way---realizing, perhaps, for the very first time that there was a time when I wasn't her mother---and hasn't bugged me about way-back Wednesdays ever since.

Or maybe it was the conversation Kendell and I had (which is remarkably similar to Molly's "80s off" post) while he was making a mix CD for his car. He put Def Leppard's "Pour Some Sugar On Me" into his mix, and I asked him why he wasn't putting the best Def Leppard song on. Then I tried to make him guess what I think the best song is ("Love Bites," of course), but he never got there. We ended up talking for a good half hour about different "best" songs by bands. Kendell and I like the same bands, but we never found a single one we shared the same "best" song. I finally decided that the songs you like best comes down to your personality and outlook on life---a list of your favorite songs would be telling, I think. But only if everyone actually knew the songs you were talking about, of course; there aren't many people who've even heard of P.I.L., let alone who'd argue over whether "Seattle" or "Rise" is their best song.

And then there was this post on Cathy Z's blog, which made me insanely happy. Often I feel like I'm the only person who wishes that U2 still sounded like 80s U2, or that Depeche Mode could make another really good album (their last being Music for the Masses, of course; for years I thought that "Strangelove" was the only real love song in the world), or that I wouldn't sound like a complete dork blaring the Cure from open car windows. My goth/alt/punk/80s music obsession feels like something I should keep a secret. Watching her u-tube video reminded me that other people do like the same music. We all have our personal life soundtracks, I think, music that played in the background while important things happened; I like knowing that some of my songs pop up in other people's soundtracks.

I'm not sure what all these thoughts about music really add up to. It's nothing life changing. Maybe, it's more about music being something that's life definining. All those memories we each hook to songs, the way we love or hate any given tune, our live's soundtracks: everyone has some sort of musical identity. Mine's just felt like rising up a bit, lately.

Kids are in school. Kaleb is napping. I've just had lunch and am now enjoying the remnants of forbidden fruit (aka an ice-cold Pepsi...need to crawl back up on that wagon). The house is quite and nearly clean; there are a billion things I could do. Like start working on decluttering the boys' room (in preparation for the upcoming muchly-not-wanted-by-moi bedroom switcheroo), or cleaning out the kitchen drawers. Or laundry, that'd be nice. On the creative front I could: work on the essay about Bryce Canyon I really want to finish and send away (collecting rejection e-mails has become somewhat of a hobby of mine! Yay me!), edit some photos for a few layouts that are kicking around in my head, scrapbook, or finish the baby quilt for tomorrow's baby shower. Suppose I should do that. But, first, I'm going to finally get around to doing this meme that Molly had back on her blog way back in July (I had to dig through her archives to find it!). Here's how it works, in case you want to play, too:

You leave a random comment in my blog. I then reply to you with five questions that you answer on your blog, and then your blog readers can play/not play as they wish. Make sense? Here are the questions Molly had for me, along with my answers:

1.  Were you much exposed to poetry as a childhood, or did you develop the passion for it all on your own?
I love this question, and it's especially timely since I've been reading a book called First Loves, a collection of essays written by poets about the poems that first "captivated and inspired them." In her essay, Louise Gluck (one of my favorites!) says that "The poet is supposed to be the person who can't get enough of words like "incarnadine' . . . . [but] from the beginning I preferred the simplest vocabulary. What fascinated me were the possibilities of context." I like this idea not because I'm also fascinated by context---what I connect with in poems is that mysterious blend of musicality and meaning---but that she removes one of the "shoulds" of writing (and reading and/or loving) poems. I don't know that I meet many of the poetry "shoulds."

Because, unlike most of the poets in this book---and to answer Molly's question ---I wasn't exposed to much poetry as a child. At least, I don't remember reading much. For me, as a child, poetry was just another part of school. I've a very clear memory of reading and discussing Frost's "Design" ("I found a dimpled spider/fat and white...") in sixth or seventh grade. But when I really discovered poetry as a medium for my own voice (strange how you can find your voice in others' poems, but there you go) was at the beginning of my junior year of high school---a particularly bad year as bad years go, and there was my pivotal English class. They'd made me drop out of honor's English ('swhatcha get for skipping school too often to sit under the freeway overpass with your friends, drinking coffee and thinking about getting a tattoo) and attend a regular English class, and that's when it happened: Angie W., wearer of pastel Izods with the collar turned up and friend to cheerleaders (and thus my gothy self's natural enemy), when asked to share something out of her writer's notebook, stood up and read a poem she'd written. It seemed so blatantly wrong to me (still in that unfortunate "I'm the only one who's unhappy here" phase) that someone popular and blonde and wealthy should have enough anguish to write a poem that I immediately decided to one-up her. I knew my poems would be better. But after I wrote a few, and researched a few more (Miss St. Vincent Millay, for example), it stopped being about one-upping a popular girl (who wouldn't have ever heard my poems, anyway, as I never actually shared them with anyone). It became about me finding something I loved and could use in a fairly healthy way (healthier than, say, that freeway overpass) to make myself feel better.

2. How has it been teaching for Big Picture?
Lovely, wonderful, amazing, fabulous, fantastic; also a little bit terrifying. There really aren't enough adjectives. I love, love the people I work with (Stacy Julian et al) and love, love the students, too. Terrifying because I want to make sure I give the students enough for their expense for the class, but also because I want so badly to be successful at teaching people to enjoy journaling. I really do think that everyone can journal well and I want to spark that interest. I'm grateful to have the opportunity!

3. If you were to move somewhere other than Utah, where would you want to go?
I'd want to go somewhere familiar, like Colorado or Montana---anywhere with mountains, really. OR somewhere absolutely the opposite, like Hawaii. I think I would like living in a smaller town on the east coast (I don't think I'd do well in a big city). Just please, please don't make me move to the real desert. Arizona/Texas/New Mexico/southern Nevada and I would just not get along; I don't think Kendell could afford all the mental-health co-pays.

4. Do you have a sweet tooth?
Who, me? I'm not eating a Baby Ruth right now while I drink a (fully-loaded-with-sugar-because-try-as-I-might-I-can't-love-diet) Pepsi. Really. That's not chocolate on my front tooth. I just need to see the dentist, alright? Geez. Leave a girl alone, won't you?

Just kidding. I absolutely have a sweet tooth. Which might mean that if I were to die in a plane crash in the Andes, and some survivor had to eat me, they might just really enjoy all the extra lovin' that is courtesy of, as Kendell puts it, "cookies, candies, cakes, and snacks."

5. What do you see when you look out your kitchen window?
Thirty-five years ago, our neighborhood was a fruit orchard. Twenty years ago, it was a corn field. Now it's just Utah suburbia, with a few pockets of left-over corn field. But it's also dotted with the remains of that fruit orchard. When we bought our lot, there were three fruit trees on it, an apple, a pear, and a peach. The pear was right in the middle of where our kitchen would one day be; the peach was in the space that would one day become our foundation wall. I literally cried the day they pulled those trees out. But I got to keep the apple tree, which is in the corner of our lot, and it's what I see when I look out my kitchen window. That tree is a friend to most of the neighborhood kids. They climb it, us it as a fort and/or a fairy-princess castle (usually depending on gender), or pull the apples to throw at each other. We don't ever actually eat the apples, as we've never had it sprayed so there are plenty of worms to mix with the apples. But that doesn't seem to matter. Is it weird to love a tree? Not sure. But I love this apple tree. Here's a picture:

So! Now it's your turn. Leave me a comment if you want to play along!

I woke up before everyone else in my house this morning---not something that happens very often, as I usually sleep as long as Kaleb'll let me. Seven fifteen found me, though, awake and thinking about the day. Jake and Nathan's first day of school; Haley's day off since yesterday was seventh-grade day (her first day of school); Kaleb finally, finally over his week-long stomach flu (which I was starting to think was something far ickier than your regular rotovirus) and ready to run to the mall today with Haley and me. It struck me just how good this very time in my life is, despite whatever problems I've been having. My kids are each in such good stages (yes, even prickly toddlerhood has its really great moments!), each with their own challenges but also with such great positives. I love seeing how they are becoming, each of them, themselves. Plus, I knew I would get to take them to school---I will never, ever fail to appreciate being present for the first day of school (something I literally wept over missing when I was teaching).

Something I like to do every once in awhile is to write about my life right now. I've even been known to do a layout about it. Things change so quickly---I like writing down what makes life right now feel like it does. By right now I don't mean right this very second, but just this season in your life---this month, or this summer, or even this year. This time. Instead of writing it down in my journal, though, I thought I'd invent my very own meme about life right now --- feel free to steal it if you want. I'd love to read what makes your life unique, right now.

• three things in your fridge that define life right now: 1---a half-empty bowl of watermelon (this summer I learned the coolest way to dice watermelon from some daytime TV news show, will have to share it!) which probably won't last until tomorrow afternoon; 2---sun dried tomato turkey and provolone cheese (because fixing sandwiches for dinner is just a summer thing to do); 3---a frog-eye salad I made on Sunday (even though no one but me likes it)
• three recent acquisitions: 1---a new nightgown/robe combo I bought yesterday at JC Penney (I think modal is the only fabric to sleep in!), 2---new sports sandals from Lands End (in the desperate-yet-ultimately-foolish hope I might help my aching foot); these are so comfortable they've rarely left my feet since I got them; 3---a swimsuit I actually like (also from Lands End)
• three classics you reach for every day: 1---midnight pomegranate shower gel and lotion (from Bath and Body); 2---original boot-cut jeans from the Gap (the pair I bought last year for the so-good-I-still-remember-it-a-year-later bargain price of $7.50); 3--- Connexion, the fragrance I wear all summer
• your kids right now, in three words or less: Haley---fashionista with bangs. Jake---"I am rockin!" Nathan---writing song lyrics. Kaleb---recognizes color green.
• your spouse/significant other right now, in three words or less: Hip solution near???
• what's on your to-do list: Figure out the orthodontist thing (we got two opinions which contradict each other so now I'm more confused than ever); shop for and sew a baby gift; declutter three rooms before the big bedroom switcheroo; call Mattel because I've got the Sarge they recalled; pull out the rest of the raggedy sunflowers.
• something you do often that relates directly to the season right now: read outside on the back patio in my big chair while the kids play together in the evenings after dinner; the breeze from the canyon picks up and cools everything off and sometimes the summer thunderstorms stir up, too.
• what you're listening to right now: I've been caught up in this little music flashback; I've been downloading old Bauhaus and Peter Murphy songs, not to neglect the few Hoodoo Gurus songs I stumbled across. ("Come Anytime?" anyone???) But I'm also in love with the songs "Almost Lover" by A Fine Frenzy and "Vindicated" by Dashboard Confessional.
• what you're worried about right now: that my foot will never feel better; that Haley won't be able to open her locker tomorrow; that Jake and Nathan will never have legible handwriting; that Kendell's possible hip solution won't really help. I also can't help worrying about my parents and, much as I resent it, my oldest sister who seems to have fallen off the wagon yet again.
• the news stories you're paying attention to: the Crandall mine, of course, but also Utah's teacher shortage.
• what you're reading right now: I finished Eclipse over the weekend (neeeeeeed to write about it!) and now I'm reading The Geographer's Library, which I stumbled upon in the library, and The Last Girls of Pompeii, which I check out for Haley but can't put down to give to her.
• what you're looking forward to right now: going to see the Minerva Teichert display at the BYU Art Museum. (Becky! Want to come with???)
• a thought or idea you keep returning to right now: Leviticus 26:2-6. I'm the first to confess that I fail regularly at keeping the Sabbath; it is sort of a family tradition, one I'm trying to discard. I love the promised metaphorical blessings in this scripture, though, of keeping the Sabbath; I especially want peace in my land and being able to lie down without fear (metaphorically, of course).
• one small thing that makes you happy right now: my big, gorgeous, one-bloom-a-day hibiscus.

Now it's your turn!

Yesterday I took the kids to Seven Peaks, a water park near us. For the past four summers, we'd had season passes, but this year I just honestly could not stand the thought of doing the water park routine---gathering snacks, filling up the cooler, waiting for the beach towels I forgot to wash until the morning before we left to finally finish drying, hauling everything inside the park, getting everyone sunscreened, schlepping around in a wet swimsuit, then hauling everything back---once a week. Toss in a toddler and this became the Summer Without Seven Peaks. Honestly, I don't think anyone else really cared, except for Nathan, who was dying to try to the new slide and to ride all the old ones. As school starts on Monday (for Haley) and Tuesday (for Jake and Nathan), yesterday was sort of our farewell to summer.

As I was sitting in our spot while Kaleb ate a snack (what is it about swimming that makes you so hungry?), I glanced up at the mountain (the water park is up in the foothills) and saw orange! Can you spot it? (You might have to click on the photo to make it bigger.)

You know what this means, right? Autumn is on its way. There are signs everywhere, the way the air feels in the even when it cools off, the fact that I woke up to rain this morning (it's rare in Utah summers that the rain falls any other time except for late afternoons), the way the leaves look on my sycamore---still green, but with a sort of tiredness to the hue. Of course, we'll have plenty more scorching days.

But it's coming!

I'd be this book; it is, after all, one of my very favorites (although, now that I think about it, my friend Brooke took my copy with her when she moved to Arizona, so I think I need to get a new one) :

You're The Mists of Avalon!
by Marion Zimmer Bradley
You're obsessed with Camelot in all its forms, from Arthurian legend to the Kennedy administration. Your favorite movie from childhood was "The Sword in the Stone". But more than tales of wizardry and Cuban missiles, you've focused on women. You know that they truly hold all the power. You always wished you could meet Jackie Kennedy.
Take the Book Quiz at the Blue Pyramid.

Even though I was secretly hoping to see The Bell Jar pop up; far more literary than M. Z. B. And while I love all things Arthurian, I was never obsessed with the Kennedy administration. Plus, my favorite movie from childhood was Zanadu (seriously: who couldn't love Olivia Newton John in fluttering rayon, spandex tights, and roller blades?). Then again, they're partially right: I do know women hold all (well most) of the [creative] power in the world, but I never really wished to meet Jackie Kennedy. I have, though, always wished I could meet Helen Keller. So, tell me: what book are you? (Thanks to Molly for the link to this quiz!)

And with that, I'm taking my post-Pilates, quivery legs off to the shower, as the Mother of A Registering For Seventh Grade Today Girl cannot possibly wear a pony tail. (Said Mother is still trying to NOT freak out about being the Mother of a junior high student. When exactly did that happen?) But only after I drink my lovely protein-powder-and-blueberry breakfast. Happy Wednesday!

Like, the intention to not spend any money until tomorrow, an intention I stuck to for the weekend AND for Monday, but it all fell apart today as my kids begged me for something, anything to do!!! Desperate, and all good intentions left in my very messy kitchen, we headed to Joann's for some crafts---they picked out those glass things that you paint and then hang in the window, plus some glue-together fun foam animals. And I thought to myself, "self, you're out already. You've already lost it. Why not just finish up?" So we also went shopping for school supplies. Staples and Target and two hours later...I think everyone is ready for school. Except for socks, the boys still need socks.

I've also had some bloggerly intentions, but as the glass painting is calling, I will have to fulfill them later. Instead, here's a quick meme from Chris's blog:

Yourself: feeling like I need a trip to the doctor; always tired, lots of headaches, and I have managed to GAIN fifteen pounds over the summer---the summer where I've exercised more and drank far less soda than in the past two years. I feel fuzzy.
Your partner: obsessed, lately, with 4-wheeling. This is NOT my thing (hello, remember that inner flower child of mine? I like to hike and to enjoy the silence in nature, not race around, terrified of rolling the 4-wheeler, smelling gas and listening to the very noisy engine) but I am honestly THRILLED that he's finally found a hobby.
Your hair: needs a cut and color
Your mother: probably sewing
Your father: tried to call someone on the phone last week and asked my mom where she put the number four
Your favorite item: lately, nothing; books, pictures, scrapbooking, writing, gardening, all the things that make me me have just not held any appeal. See, told you I need a doctor.
Your dream last night: I dreamed about Haley's personal progress (a program for the adolescent girls in the LDS church; they accomplish a specific set of goals in various topics); she was sewing a quilt, and when I told her about it this morning she said "that's perfect! I want to sew a quilt!" Works for me!
Your favorite drink: Pepsi with lots of ice, although I am getting MUCH better at not drinking one every day!
Your dream car:  since I was 16 I have wanted a brand new Mustang, black of course, although I don't imagine that'll ever happen!
Your dream home:  Just a little bit bigger than our current home, so that no one had to share a bedroom; I also want a family room right next to the kitchen, a bigger master bath, and a bigger yard.
The room you are in now: the office
Your fear: not accomplishing all of my goals; dying young (although I'm not looking forward to getting old, I do want to experience it and I hope to live long enough to see great grandchildren!)
Where you want to be in 10 yrs: more successful with writing; my children happy
Who you hung out with last night: the kids and I did races in the backyard and then we all piled on my bed to watch the So You Think You Can Dance vote-off
You're not: as good of a person as i want to be
Wish list item: a better job for Kendell
Last thing you did: put a load of towels into the washer
What are you wearing: a purple T and jeans
Favorite weather: barely-warm autumn days
Favorite book: I hate this question. You know I can't pick a favorite.
Last thing you ate: orange chicken and rice
Your life: ready to be back in the school routine
Your mood: flat
Your best friend: Oh, friends. This is a topic for another post.
What are you thinking about right now: wondering where my creativity has gone
Your car: Toyota Sienna
What are you are doing at this moment: typing this!
Relationship status: married with children
What's on TV: Kyle XY
Last time you laughed: Last night when I downloaded "Don't Leave Me This Way," thanks to SYTYCD inspiration, and Kendell caught me! ;)

One of my favorite things to discuss with my sister Becky (who, by the way, now has a blog! Yay Becky!) is the blending and/or separation of writing from religion. Does everything you write get filtered through the glass of your religion? Is it possible to write as an LDS person without writing "Mormon Lit"? Can a person simply write a story without having to make a religious point? We have this discussion because honestly, it is difficult to think of writers who happen to be LDS but who don't wear their religion on their sleeve. (Of course, Orson Scott Card and his Ender's Game books spring to mind, but I can't think of many others---can you?) Not that there is anything wrong with religious novels, or with writing through your religious filter. But it seems there are precious few LDS writers who write mainstream novels, choosing instead to write Mormon Lit.

I think the reasons for this are myriad. (There's a good discussion of it here if you're interested.) To me, it has to do with your reading aesthetic---what you expect a book to do. A few months ago, a woman from church told me about a book she was reading and thought I'd like, The Thirteenth Tale. Then, a few days later, she called me to retract her original recommendation. She said she'd loved the story, but it was dark and, in her words, failed to make her feel uplifted. That phone call was sort of an "ah ha" moment for me, as it put into experience what I'd so far only intuited. I don't necessarily read to be uplifted. I don't need a book to give me a happy ending, or make me feel warm & sunny. What I do need from a book is to feel caught up in an art form---to be taken away to a different place and experience through the medium of the author's skill. "Experience" might be the key word there---I also read because it is a way of experiencing things I never would in my real life. And if, through that experience, I am able to also learn something I might not have in my regular life, so much the better.

The problem I have with "Mormon Lit" is that there's way too much deux ex machina involved. I think it's simply wrong to present, over and over again in novels, the idea that if you pray enough, or have enough faith, then your problems will be solved through a miracle, a timely death, or a visit from a dead relative. It sets up an expectation---that heavenly visitations are a common thing---and the probability for discouragement---"I must not be a faithful-enough person, because I don't have experiences like these." It is my belief that Heavenly Father isn't going to solve our problems through divine intervention very often. Instead, I think He does it through different, smaller means, not because He can't intervene but because He wants us to learn something through our struggles.

So, when a friend recommended the books Twilight and New Moon, adding the detail that the author is LDS to her recommendation, I thought "hmmmm...not so sure I want to read them." She knows, though, of my feelings about Mormon Lit, and she told me they're really not that kind of book. They're just novels. So in May, when we went on our family vacation, I brought them along (because a trip isn't complete without a new book or two to read, correct?). And you know---my friend was right. They're not LDS novels; they're just novels. Adolescent lit about vampires, but still. I read them and fell in love. The best thing about these books is the characterization---you really believe that those characters exist, and you want to find out what happens, you want them to be happy, you want to be sixteen and single again so that you, too, can find a gorgeous vampire of your own. (Did I go too far there?)

The premise: vegetarian vampire, who doesn't indulge in human blood, falls for a human girl. The author, Stephanie Meyers, extends this premise so we come to understand all its implications, from the drama over a paper cut to more serious issues like the ability to touch, the difference between physical and emotional love, and how much you should change for the girl/boy/vampire and/or werewolf in your life. Are the books high literature that people will be reading and discussing in, say, the year 2207? Probably not. But that's OK---it's a great story and a fun read.

Plus, the third book, Eclipse, came out yesterday. I had my coupon from Barnes and Noble all ready to go, except for they were sold out, as were Costco, Borders, and Target. So I ordered it from Amazon instead. To keep my mind off the wait (that free Amazon shipping is a great thing except for how long it takes!), I think I'll get my copy of New Moon back from my mother-in-law (my books have now been read by two of my sisters, two of my nieces, my sister-in-law and both of my in-laws!) and read it again. Having an LDS writer who simply writes as a writer is making me feel more driven to write my own novels!

This morning I got up early (thanks to Kaleb's newest habit, an exactly-6:08-get-out-of-bed time), intending to blog about my weekend, which included seeing the play Mamma Mia! and dinner with old friends. But before I started writing, I checked the blogs I always check. And I was absolutely shocked to discover that one of the blog-writers I read all the time, Alleen, had died on Friday.

Kendell thought I was strange to be upset over the death of someone I'd never met. But I read her blog every time she updated it; she and I had commented on each other's blogs every once in awhile. And I admired her---she was smart and had an intelligent sense of humor. She seemed full of love for her husband and two sons. She always had something wise to say. I admired her---even though I never met her or did much more than comment on her blog. I admired her---but I don't think she ever knew that.

So all day, I've been thinking about the nature of on-line relationships. There are some blogs I read weekly, and although I rarely comment I feel like I know them, at least little pieces of them. I have friends I communicate with only through email, friends I've never met in real life but who know things about me my next-door neighbors don't, friends whose writing style I'd recognize even if their names weren't attached to their emails. And there are people whose blogs I visit every day, who I think about and worry about and cheer over their successes. And yet, with a few exceptions I've never seen these people face-to-face. It's a strange type of relationship, one that not everyone understands, but one that I'm grateful for. My on-line friends have helped me through many tough experiences. And today, while I've continued to think about Alleen's death, I've found myself thinking of the other blogs I read, or the people I keep in email touch with, and I felt I wanted to list them all, just so there is some proof---just so they know how important they are to me. Even though we've never met. So, in no particular order, a quick list of on-line relationships I value:

My Big Picture editor, Amy Oatis. She doesn't have a blog (yet---I'm encouraging her!) for me to link to, but she has been a great blessing to me. You know when you meet people and you instantly think of Anne Shirley's "bosom friend" description? The kind of person you know just gets you? Yeah, that's how I feel about Amy. She's smart and kind and a great editor; every time I get an email from her it makes me happy.

Chris Jenkins.  She and I have the same taste in music and the same body issues! So many times when I read her blog I think "I so have felt this identical feeling." I admire her because she accomplishes so much in any given day, because she creates gorgeous scrapbook pages, and because she communicates this sense of honesty in her writing; she is authentic. Fakeness is, in my mind, a horrible quality to have, but she is the opposite of fake. Plus I'm always discovering cool new songs from her!

Sophia Corbridge. Sophia and I have been email friends since 2001. She's read emails from me about Kendell's LONG unemployment, going back to school for my teaching certificate, the tortures and dramas of being a student teacher, my years of teaching, my days and weeks and months of longing for a new baby and then my happiness at finally having Kaleb, not to mention recipes, vacations, arguments, joys, and sorrows. Sophia has taught me to always have faith and to never, ever give up. She's an example to me of a person who lives her religion every single minute. Plus, we are forever connected just by the very fact that her husband once sliced Nathan's knee open. (Not on purpose, of course; that's a story I have to share one day!)

Kelly Edgerton and I have also been email friends since 2001. She knows everything Sophia knows! Kelly's been important to me because she always has wisdom to share. She's had an empathetic shoulder for me to cry on many, many times. Plus, she'll talk books with me. I admire her strength and her successful life; she's taught me how to negotiate prickly relationships without getting pricked.

Molly Newman is my left-wing alter-ego. I've admired her writing ever since I got to know her on an old scrapbooking message board (dMarie, anyone else remember that one?) in 2000. Her writing is intelligent and just a titch acerbic, which really works for me, and her ideas make me stop to consider my own beliefs. Plus, her son Rhys and I are birthday twins!

And of course, I can't neglect the people who read my blog. It's probably silly, but every time I read a comment, it makes me happy. I read and think about and appreciate every single one---both because you took the time to share your ideas with me and because you took the time to read my words. I am grateful!