More dreams

I don't know if it's the pain meds I'm on- or just that I'm always at the edge of dream sleep lately... but I've had a couple of real whoppers lately.

I remember them in much more detail than I'll explain here, simply because I don't know how to describe things- and some things will just get lost in translation.

I was in France. I don't know why I was in France, but there I was.  I was walking through the streets of a very crowded city. Things were all abuzz because it was a festival of some kind. There were shops and vendors of every description crammed into the streets.

I saw through the crowd a guy I have known since kindergarten and went all the way through high school with. I don't think I have ever in real life had a conversation with him. Ever. But we grew up knowing each other. Anyway, he was there and he was surrounded by the French police. I wondered why and kind of lingered about. I gathered from the people talking about him that he had committed some crime (which to my standards was not a heinous act- more one of poor judgement) and was being tried as a French citizen. They would not allow the American Consulate to intercede with his "trial,"

[Let me make note here that I do NOT know anything, anything I tell you, about the French justice system. Where my imagination came up with all of this stuff is beyond me- and as far as I know, I LOVE France- so I harbor no ill will]

It was decided he would be executed. Because it was festival, they decided to make a public showing of it. He was marched through the streets. He was behind a line of soldiers, marching alone, then followed by one single soldier carrying a sword. That soldier was again followed by the rest of the platoon. I tried to walk near him- or at least let him see me, maybe he'd recognize me and know that he was not unknown and forgotten in this foreign place. Maybe it would offer him some comfort. I was also desperately trying to find someone who spoke English who would explain to me what was going on!

Yes, I realize these are British officers and not French- but this is what they looked like in my dream. I know, they should have been wearing blue.

When they reached the center of the festivities, the lone officer approached the condemned and whispered to him instructions on what was going to happen next. They both crouched down into an "attack" position, someone shouted out a command in French. The condemned stood tall as the soldier approached and impaled him through the stomach and out his back. He looked down in unbelief. I stared wide-eyed. Feeling the same way he did. I didn't think they'd actually do it.

Through the stomach. A slow, lingering death.  Suddenly, there was a commotion off to the side of the ranks. Two more officers approached the lone officer, swords in hand. Apparently the executing officer is supposed to kill the condemned in one fell swoop. He failed to do so and was therefore to be immediately punished. One officer slashed his sword across the man's chest from shoulder to hip. I looked away in horror only for a second, and when I looked back, the other officer was holding up the lone soldier's severed head.

I was mortified! What was I seeing? What was going on??? As my childhood friend stood there, still dumbfounded at the wound in his stomach, they explained to him that a life had been taken, justice was served, he was free to seek medical assistance and the thing he was to learn from all this was to leave the country and never return.

I left that scene, looking for someone, anyone who could explain what was going on.  I wandered to the outskirts of the city, where on the side of the mountain there was a collection of these:

This is only one. Imagine a mountain side filled with these, all as tall as cathedrals and every bit as beautiful. There were green vines hanging down around the rooftops and it seemed almost a magical place. The land was peppered with ponds and flowers. It was the kind of place a fairy would live, I imagine. I knew my friend, Kelly was teaching a class here so I entered the nearest structure. Kelly was teaching in French because for half of her life she grew up in France, and the other half she lived in Germany (Kelly, have you even been to France or Germany???). Anyway, I didn't want to interrupt her class so I just stood aside and observed.

After her class I asked her my query about the French justice system and she explained that she didn't know- but we could sail to Spain and research it for the answers. As we walked from the building, this was the view (or pretty darn close)

and I was very excited to sail to Spain.

As we walked down the hill, I saw a friend of mine from my mission standing outside one of the houses. I ran to him, "Thomas! How are you!?" I went in for a hug and he kind of shied back. "We can hug now, remember? We're not missionaries anymore!" So I gave him a big hug and said, "Wow, you look great!"

Assuming he should probably return the compliment, he took a few seconds to think and finally said, "You look well too... for a woman your age."

And that's when I woke up- and I've been mad at him all day. :)

My Most Embarrassing Moment

I think the theme for this weeks posts is "stolen idea posts"

Thanks for the idea, Cindy. :) I have two embarrassing moments. Only one does the general public get to hear. That is this one. The other one NO ONE knows. Maybe 3 people on this planet- and I am one of them. I never ever EVER tell that one.  So this is the one you get.

By the way, it's a long story so buckle up.

When I was between Sophomore and Junior years in high school, we had a stake service project. They gathered all of us together then broke us up into crews and took us to various parts of the city to just clean up. I think my crew went up Johnny Creek. Anyway- that is neither here nor there.

After the service project, they gathered us back at the stake center for lunch and to teach us how to dance. They had Style (the dance group from Rick's College [now BYUI] ) come and give us a few pointers. Once they had given us as much instruction as our awkward teenage minds could handle, they sent us home to clean up and dressed for the occasion of a nice dance. Oooooooooooooo-oooooooo...

I wore my red low waist dress (it was homemade, but I liked it) with a sailor neckline bordered in white lace. I wasn't as tall then as I am now, but I still towered over most of the girls and several of the boys. 

I'll just get it out now. I hate dances. I hate loathe despise and abominate dances. I don't know *how* to dance, I don't like how I *look* when I dance... the list goes on. Anyway, this night was different. The Style dancers took turns dancing with us. There was one... B.C. (that's all you get- yes, I still remember his name) who asked me to dance. Now... I realize I was his assignment. He was not there to hit on teeny boppers.  Anyway, so he asked me to dance, and was dancing quite properly, left hands held high, right hand on my upper back to guide the movements... I felt very self conscious, afraid I'd trod on his feet. He was shorter than me, and I was afraid I'd break him.

We dance to Garth Brook's "The River" and as we danced he sang the words.

And I will sail my vessel,

till the river runs dry.

Like a bird upon the wind,

these waters are my sky.

I'll never reach my destination

If I never try,

So I will sail my vessel,

till the river runs dry!

Not particularly romantic lyrics, but the more he sang, the more I loved him. He had a lovely voice, and he *sang* to me while we *danced*!!!  It was more than my 15 year old heart could take. I remember my journal entry from that night. Seriously- it's been nearly 20 years and I don't have to look at my journal to remember what I wrote that night. I was flying on air as I wrote the lyrics to "I could have danced all night" from My Fair Lady.

See, you thought the embarrassing moment was going to come at the dance didn't you? DIDN'T you?

At that time, my sister Valeri was also attending Ricks. I told her about this super cute guy that I'd met and danced with who had waltzed away with my heart. Valeri is not a shy person. She looked him up and went to his apartment to find him and she introduced herself.

That was also not the embarrassing part.

Fast forward now about two and a half years or so...

I'm a Senior. I rule the school! Well, ok, I was still a loser, but still, seniors are way better than Sophs right? anyway... I was with some friends hanging out in the seminary building when we walked past a room with a substitute teacher. I about wet my pants when I saw who the substitute teacher was. It was none other than B.C. The very same B.C. who had danced and sang with me all those years ago. He was a seminary teacher!? Of course, by now he was married and had a kid or two (Mormon's work fast when it comes to stuff like that).

I told my friends about the dance and that it was him- thinking it would be just between us and no big deal. It was forever ago. I was over it and I was sure he never thought anything of it anyway. But my friend, Christine said, "Well I'm going to go tell him." So she did. She walked right into his classroom and told him my tale. I don't know how he reacted because I was too busy running from the building.

A month or so later my seminary teacher was gone and we had a *gulp* substitute (you see where this is going, don't you?). Because we were seated alphabetically, I was sitting Front and Center to the teacher's podium (blast my Bakeish last name! blast it a million times to hades!!!) As our dear substitute, Brother C called the role, he asked us each to tell him something about ourselves. So up and down the rows he goes. Then he gets to me and reads my name, pauses a moment. Looks at the name again, then looks at me and says,

"Oh Bakeshow?!?! I know her. Bakeshow needs no introduction. I remember you from a few years ago [eyebrow waggle] we had a... fling [eyebrow waggle]."

Oh dear merciful heavens. I could not shrink down far enough to hide under my seat. The eyes that were burning into my head. The crimson color of my face... I'm surprised I didn't die right then and there.

To this day I have a love/hate relationship with seminary teachers. I love them because they're usually super awesome... but I hate them because they remind me of that day when all I wanted to do was cause the brick building to fall in on my head.

Letters

Stealing a post idea from a friend... thanks Jess...

Dear Job,
I hate you this week. Let's break up for a few days.

Dear Fireman who said I was your favorite,
Awwwwwwww...... :)

Dear Case Worker who said nice things to me,
I don't believe half of what you said, but it was nice to hear anyway. Thank you.

Dear Pinterest,
Why don't you ever have any new humor pins? I already have most of the funny, non profane pins on my board.

Dear Disneyland,
I miss you. And your corndog too.

Dear Utah,
We're just not getting along like I thought we would. We might have to go our separate ways.

Dear Nook,
How have I lived two weeks without you? I can't remember how to read paper books! I'm afraid I'll get a paper cut.

Dear blogosphere friends,
Why don't you update your blogs as often as you used to?

Dear Death,
I don't like you or looking into your eyes. Stay out of my ER.

Dear Weather,
Damn, you're hot!

Dear guy who invented the air conditioner,
Bless you. Bless you my friend.

Dear Volleyball,
I love you. Thank you for getting me out of the house a few hours each week.

More Disney stuff. Because I like it.

It's been over a month since I've been home from the Happiest Place on Earth, and I've been a super slacker in posting pictures and stuff. So at this rate- I probably won't post them all- but here are some of my faves.

This picture was just as we parked the car at the hotel and were walking toward the Disneyland Hotel and Downtown Disney to go to Goofy's Kitchen. I'm not sure which is my favorite part- the upside down sunglasses or the hand holding. :)

This was DJ's first mashed penny!

Where is it??? 

This has got to be one of the cutest pictures of JaNeil and DJ.

And a pretty cute one of him with Aunt Bakeshow (that's not what he calls me- but that name is sacred and I don't just let *anyone* call me by that name).

This is us on Pirate of the Caribbean. Thank you, stranger in the front row for taking our picture.

Cutest tiny boy in the whole. wide. world.

You can't deny it.

After the Baloo debacle at Goofy's Kitchen, DJ was happy to find a bear his size.

Two happy brothers just waiting for the parade to start! 

DJ and Daddy (Travie) on the Golden Zephyr (why they call it that I'll never know. It's silver).

Gettin' ready for a wild spin on Francis' Ladybug Boogie.

Goin' on a chew chew train! Does anyone else smell cookies? No? It's just me then.

I was with DJ at the Tower of Terror gift shop waiting for Trav & JaNeil. He was being so cute and flirting with the cast member there that she gave him this sticker.

He played with that thing till it died. It was everywhere.

Trav and I were running to get fast passes when we ran in to a storm. Trooper, that is. I promised him if he'd pose for a pic that I wouldn't tell Vader.... and here I'm blogging about it. Some promise keeper I am (how arrogant am *I* that I think Darth Vader reads my blog???)

There was one day the little family was struggling to get out of bed and moving- so I went to the park without them. I made a new friend. 

I think this may be one of the cutest pictures ever. Seriously.

Wait... maybe this one is.

 Every time DJ got through a ride he's say, "I did it!" I wish I could write the cute way he said it. It was so sweet. No matter what the ride was- a scary one or a cute one- he'd end it by saying, "ah diddi! ah diddi!" Seriously, so freaking cute.

Every kid needs to get mouse ears on his first trip to Disneyland. So being the awesome aunt that I am- I got them for my boys. I wish I'd thought to take a picture of the back of them with their names. Oh well. This one is so stinkin cute of DJ.

But this is more the real him. He looks like he's choking to death on the string. What a goof!