"It's ficticious!"

I almost disciplined myself and actually attempted to finish my website for photography- the darn internet's too slow to download a thing anyways, Mr. Gibby. So, here I am. Attempting to write a post about something, but it's probably not going to work.

Let me just tell you that I'm having trouble talking to people with out the urge to spin in circles wildly, usually I want to make Marisa screams- those kind seem to fit the best- but, other times, goat noises seem to be acceptable as well. And, let me tell you that it's not easy to stay sitting there in class, mom. It's not easy. If you only knew how often my legs are jumpy and want to run outside; how tempted my skin is to be warmed by sun when I see that open door to the hallway, you'd give me some credit for being in class.
Sure, I'm a little bit tardy-ish. But, Chappy's cute. Some people just don't get how vital it is to talk to blonde, curly haired boys and if you're not feeling awkward for once that week, you have got to take advantage of it. You don't get it, mom, because you're all... out going and weird stuff like that.
You all know my mother. And, mom, I'm sorry if this summer Dani and I get drunk (mentally, mind you). We might sleep over in the church, yes, and Maddiey and I will most likely sneak off on walks for hours and hours and I'll paint things that dad doesn't want me to paint (like the fridge for example...or that table Hyrum traded someone for an egg- best game ever). Mommy, I'm sorry, but I will most likely get a Jedi Braid again and tie sea shells from Florida onto it and I'll most definitely end up having Dani dye a part of my hair white and another little part blue. I'll probably never take off my swim suit and count the 7 Peaks wave pool as a shower, sorry. Hannah and I will probably set up a tent on our lovely grass when you're not around to tell us no. Tyler and I will probably play sleeping bag wars on the trampoline again- actually, maybe not, you got really mad... (nah, we'll probably do it anyways). But I will take over Breton's room the day he leaves on his mission to Chihuahua Mexico and I will sneak out of Hyrum's window well if you try and ground me. Sorry, mom, but these things must be done. And no Tabasco Sauce can stop me! :)

I love you, mom. Because you'll expect all of that. I'm glad you know me. The best thing about me is that I never do the same wrong thing twice.   Unless it's really too much fun to pass up.

As close as we can get it.

What if we had a giant piece of paper- the size of this house? We could fold it into a paper airplane and travel across the valley on it. The wind will pick up and take us over the mountain to that small Heber City. We'll get ice cream at that place like when we were kids and traveled in that bumpy white Jeep listening to Colors. I loved that Granny's place where I discovered fry sauce and gummy bears in vanilla ice cream. But, they tore it down and we got a new Jeep that was red and fancy and didn't bump so much (besides, my mom told me how fry sauce was fattening and I've never forgiven it since). So, everything changed except for the point that *Colors still makes me car sick, in or out of the car.


Things change so fast and I can't remember so many things that I wish I did. I can't remember my 8 year old baptism like I was supposed to. I only remember that the Carmichael's gave me a weird plastic doll thing with pink spaghetti hair. 


The only thing I remember about Mrs. King's class in elementary school is that she made us pick up garbage and, one time, Clay Francis and I went for the same piece of crap and our hands touched. Did I ever notice him the day before? Nope, but we were going to get married, of course (until I found another boy to be secretly engaged to the next week- "So that's when it all started" quote Tyler George- yes, I'm still ridiculous). 


Every one of my memories are that bizarre and that random. Are yours? 


I write in my journal avidly now, but then... not so much as to even have the colored pages make sense to a single soul. So, my mother gave me an idea(for what else are the odd creatures for than birthing and scrap-booking?). Mother told me to maybe write down all the childhood memories I can remember so I don't lose any more than I already have. See? Their ideas are grand! So, if you can remember only a few memories, write them down in a new childhood journal... or, it'd be kinda cool to add on to the old journals too.


"Let your memories grow stronger til they're before your eyes"
Love, your barefooted blogger, Brynnie


*Manda, isn't that the band that Derek gave you a c.d. of? If so, cute! and lucky. No future husband of mine will give me a c.d. b/c nobody gives c.d.'s anymore.