after hours

maxx is my mom's cat. he's long-haired and orange, making him look like hermione's cat, "crookshanks." and while he's not my favorite cat we've ever had (that would be moke,) he is certainly the friendliest and most social. at night, he seems to enjoy exploring the house when it's quiet and everyone else has gone to bed.
so do i.

i love this house.
i like sitting by the hutch in the dining room, where just a enough light spills from it to make the room visible, but everything i still in shadows. i like looking at the kitchen and rewinding back through time in my memory, remembering how it's looked and changed over the years and the adventures that have happened therein. while i was on my mission in japan, my mom remodeled the whole kitchen and dining room to the point that, when i was sent pictures from my sister's high school graduation party, i didn't know it was our house until i recognized the dishwasher.

i love looking out the sliding door window at the soccer fields behind our house, and how the snow-covered ground sparkles like gold under the orange sodium-vapor lights of the parking lot. i feel bad for my future wife, missing these quiet moments with me.

i like that i'm no longer scared of the utility room. growing up, just being in there seemed a little creepy; if monsters were going to live in our house (or, as i became a teenager, "aliens"), this is where they would be. i'm now confident in my physical skills enough that i no longer fear the supernatural in that room and like looking around. so much of my life history is still contained on those shelves, it's almost like being in the ministry of magic's department of mysteries.

just off from that room is "the corner", a spot under the stairs where we were sent to sit if we misbehaved. i hated sitting under there.

it's late now and i need to get to bed, but i do enjoy these quiet times with just me and my house.

rumours

yeah

lots of little notes for posts jotted down, but none that i really feel the need to write right now. and i usually write when i want to.
or, more correctly, have to.
i miss that passion.
but you can't really force it, sadly.

it comes and goes in waves, as they say.

diving into the wave

i'd been thinking about my talk all week and had mulled around some ideas but still didn't have anything written down by yesterday evening. and instead of writing a talk, i went to the rec center instead.

and so when i sat down two hours before church this morning, i still wasn't able to focus much and was not really in the mood to write a talk. but i kind of had to. i couldn't even polish it during sacrament meeting like i sometimes do with my lesson because, well, that was when i would be speaking.

having taught sunday school for more or less five years straight and being up in front of people every other week (or every week last summer), i'm rarely asked to give talks. i think i've given three in that time. one i would like to forget, one was my "farewell" when i moved from utah, and i can't remember a third, i'm just guessing there's another one in there. so i really don't know how to prepare a talk. and so i showed up with several pages of notes, not sure if i would only get through a fraction of them or if i would breeze through it all in four of my ten suggested minutes.

sitting on the stand in my Christmas green bow tie, the relief society president texted me a good luck and i confessed to her that i was feeling very nervous and was having difficulty focusing on anything.

i was given the suggested to speak on "Christ in our lives," which was broad enough to allow me to speak on just about anything i wanted. and that sort of vague liberty can be a little paralyzing, not knowing which direction to go in. so, i did the best i could think of: i gave the talk that i wanted to hear.

i had numerous people come up to make and thank me for my talk afterward and throughout the day, which was encouraging.
the thing is, i mostly just quoted the charlie brown Christmas special and read a lot of psalms.
as jaime noted right before i left utah, "it's all about the psalms."

little lion man

i guess everyone needs a nemesis, and i've finally found mine. this guy:

that little pony is a total punk. and every time we go riding, i have to spent 15-20 minutes locked in mind games with him before i can get the rope around his neck and lead him to the stables so that we can take the horses in the pasture. (the rope isn't visible because i'm holding him very close to make sure he doesn't get out.)

this morning i realized that i was out late last night with a group of friends at northgate (the place--and the only place--to spend a friday night at a&m) and was out riding horses this morning. it's official: i live in texas now.

and it's not that bad.

roses

God gave us memory that we might have roses in december.

j.m. barrie