Monday, January 2, 2012

Stereotypical, sure, but not racist

I had purchased tickets to the symphony recently hoping to make a date of it, since my usual guest—my sister—was out of town.  Upon asking, one boy politely declined—citing homework and project overload; it being the end of the semester.  (Yeah, I rolled my eyes, too.) 

I had begun considering other options when my mom called to remind me that my sister was flying home the same day as the symphony.  Of course, I asked her next.  She accepted with no hesitation.  (Why are not boys that easy to persuade?)

I told her the truth during intermission, telling her I had hoped the first boy I had asked would have come in her stead.  She asked me if I had considered [insert the name of boy of Indian descent].  I replied that I he might be too yellow for an event like this.

Yellow?!  He’s not Asian (well, at least not eastern Asian).  If anything, you would describe him as brown.

I quickly corrected her, telling her I was not referencing his skin color but rather the color code personality test.  It’s a totally different type of discrimination.

Tuesday, December 27, 2011

Humbling

My brother-in-law was quite excited to get a small package on Saturday.  It contained some parts for his gun.  He said that it was scheduled to be delivered on Tuesday.  I said with glee, "A Christmas Miracle!"  He got very quiet and a little awkward even as he said softly, "We should probably use our Christmas miracles for something more important."

Sunday, December 4, 2011

Winter Lasts Past Christmas

Growing up a lot of the years of my life in St. George, Utah and in the Florida panhandle, winter was the time of the year when you wore sweatshirts on occasion.  I associated snow only with Christmas since it was sung about in Christmas songs and depicted on Christmas cards and in Christmas decorations.

During my student teaching in St. George, a first grade teacher had put a snowman on her bulletin board in December.  When we returned from winter break, I was surprised to see that it was still there and remained throughout January.  I remember thinking that the season of snowmen had passed with Christmas and that the snowman should have come down by now.  Of course, I caught the error in my thinking and tried to retrain my brain into associating snowmen with the entire season of winter that lasted much later than December 25.

Even as I've lived in northern Utah these past three winters, my brain has not adjusted.

I am determined to enjoy winter this year.  I plan to go ice skating frequently (if not weekly).  I even bought snowshoes to use this winter.

But I have found myself in a panic realizing that Christmas is fast approaching, and I haven't begun to enjoy my new winter hobbies.  I try to usher out the anxiety that I am going to miss my chance to enjoy the snow this year since my schedule is pretty busy between now and my winter break from school.  I keep trying to tell myself that winter will last [long] after Christmas and that I don't need to panic.  But it is evident that my brain still cannot fathom that winter continues after Christmas.  There will be snow when I return to Salt Lake after my break.  I will have months of opportunity to participate in the good that winter has to offer.

But to calm my heart and mind, I will go ice skating this week, drink plenty of hot chocolate, and enjoy the snowy sights of the nearby mountains before heading south for the break just in case these things are no longer possible or fashionable when I return.

Friday, July 1, 2011

Tell Me That I'm Dreaming

Lately my dreams have been enough to make me think about them the rest of the day.  Read about the jealous fleeing of my dream man here.
Two night ago, I was reading blog postings in my Google reader.  I read this post over at The Lola Letters about The Bachelorette.  I don't know much about the show having never watched it.  Her post was the last I read before falling asleep.  So of course, I had my own Bachelor(ette)-style dream.  However, the setup of my show was much different.  We didn't go on all-expense paid dates in fancy clothing with all the difficult details hashed out by some tv intern.  On my show, the women were "auditioning" to be wives of these creepy, misogynistic men.  Our first task was to mop a floor.
Yes, I said "our".  I am on the show.  Don't ask me why.  I would never in sound mind and body participate in such a show or "competition".
I am no stranger to housework, but I realized I was up against women who had worked full-time as housekeepers.  I knew I was no competition for them.  I wasn't going to win this round, so I didn't waste my energy.  I mopped the floor well enough, but I didn't obsess over it.
In the mean time, I figured out my target.  There was a man on the show with a two year-old son.  I knew I could win him over by focusing my energy on my interaction with his son.

WHOA!  I feel so gross inside as I type this.  I hope this is a reflection of how I feel about the show and not what I'd really do.  That previous paragraph says that I would manipulate someone by feigning a relationship with a child.  Revolting!
I can't finish this post.
Honestly, there wasn't much more to my dream.  Fortunately.  But regardless, I'm disgusted to think that this occurs.  People do this kind of thing.  My dream self did this kind of thing.  I've done this kind of thing.  Well, not this exact thing.
One time, in real life, a boy moved to town.  This boy soon caught the attention of several ladies, not because of his dashingly handsome good looks but because he was educated and had a real job.  (This type of guy was a rarity in the area.)  I was one of the first to talk to him and to befriend him.  And then these other girls found out about him and tried to lay claim.  I got caught up in the competition and decided, somewhat consciously, that I was going to win him over.  I charmed him in numerous ways, even feigning interest in a few things since they were among his greatest passions.  But then one day I (figuratively) stepped back and realized as quality of a guy he was, we really didn't have that much in common.  I wasn't pursuing him because I was interested.  I was pursuing him because I was determined to beat out these other ladies.  Ugh!
I'm glad I realized that when I did.  I hope and pray that I never get caught up in something fake like that again.

A Dream is a Wish Your Heart Makes

I have been having all sorts of life-like dreams lately.  That's how I usually dream.  I don't dream the bizarre.  I dream things that actually could happen.  And the stars of my dreams are the people who I interact with regularly.

Last night, I dreamed I met the guy of my dreams.  He was everything I've ever wanted (and many things I never knew I wanted).  We hit it off immediately.  I was totally into him.  He was totally into me.  The evening was progressing quite well.
My friend, Jared, happened to stop by. 
Jared and I have been friends for a little over a year.  He is one of my favorite people to talk with.  We can talk for hours.  And hours.  And hours.  He and my roommate used to spend a lot of time together and so often, he'd be at my house when I'd come home at night.  One of my favorite conversations occurred one night when I came home to a pitch black house.  (Supposedly they heard me pull up and turned off the tv to scare me.  Sure, I believe it.)  I followed my usual routine of getting a drink of water, never turning on the lights.  And then my roommate said my name.  Having seen Jared's Jeep out front, I greeted them both.  Jared and I started talking right there in the dark.  I don't remember what we talked about, but I remember it being a great conversation.  For several hours.  In the dark.  Needless to say, with all this conversing, Jared and I have formed a very solid bond.  We have talked each other through some challenging life experiences and have spent many a good hour out and about enjoying life.
Back to my dream.
Sometime during the evening, Jared got really sick.  I mean really sick.  The kind of sick that he needed the care and attention of someone else to endure this sickness.  I began tending to Jared's needs and almost entirely ignoring my dream guy.
Well, a dream guy can't be perfect.  This guy possessed some jealousy issues and maybe lacked some confidence.  Upon seeing the intimacy in the way I cared for Jared (being able to anticipate his needs and communicate with him without talking much), my dream guy assumed this meant that I was secretly and madly in love with Jared.  My dream guy abruptly left before we could naturally end the evening and before I could seal my fate (you know, by securing future dates and such).
Once I realized this, I got Jared taken care of well enough that I could dash out the door.  Of course, I was barefoot and there was snow on the ground.  (Because of my real-life distaste for snow, I think snow in my dreams symbolizes when something has gone awry.)  I ran as far as I could before my feet couldn't stand it.  I ran back and grabbed some shoes.  Of course the only shoes I could find were heels.  That didn't make for a quick journey in the snow.  He was already gone.
Now, I have to somehow convince the man of my dreams (literally and figuratively) that my compassion represented true charity and not passionate romantic love for Jared.  But I'm not worried.  If anyone can convince anyone of something, it's Jared.  (Most of the conversations I had with him were essentially debates.)  Jared will just convince my dream man that these actions speak volumes of my character and the kind of love he can anticipate throughout our relationship.

Too bad it was all just a dream.

I also dreamed last night that I was hiking in Zion National Park when an earthquake struck.  The roads were destroyed or covered in rocks, so my friends and I had to hike out of the park.  And for some reason, I was wearing Converse sneakers.  Not sound hiking shoes.

I probably shouldn't have gone to bed with sore feet last night.

Monday, May 30, 2011

Maybe she can come up with better advice

I have a friend who is admittedly seeking Ms. Right. He tells me about the girls he finds and dates. Each girl seems somewhat promising, but as he sees it out she never is anywhere close to Ms. Right. When he tells me about girls after the fact, I'll ask him where he met her. He gives me a look, and I don't need for him to tell me they met in a bar. My sister gave him what I thought was very sound advice. She suggested spending time doing the things he enjoyed and talking to the girls that were doing the same thing. He doubted that tactic since he can't imagine a girl wanting to be hit on at the art museum or at a bookstore.
He may be right.
I was out riding my bike to the store. I was in no hurry since the sun was finally shining for the first time today. I passed a cyclist who was inching down the road. The next thing I know, I've got a rider to my left. The cyclist begins making small talk. He's commenting on my bike asking me about my braking system. He asked me if we'd met before. When I said I was new to the city, he introduced himself as Bjorn and asked my name. This small talk went on for 8 blocks when I finally cut quickly into a parking lot. He shouted some kind of farewell as I pedaled away.
Just because we both ride bikes doesn't mean I want to talk to you. So maybe my friend shouldn't try to strike up a conversation at the library or an event downtown.
Or maybe he should. Had this friend--young, attractive, and charming--been the one on the bike, I probably would've responded differently. For some reason, a stranger can talk to you and even give you his number without it being a big deal as long as he doesn't give you the heebie jeebies first.

Saturday, January 22, 2011

Taking Actions Instead of Offenses

One of my favorite scriptures in the Book of Mormon is Alma 62: 41.  “But behold, because of the exceedingly great length of the war between the Nephites and the Lamanites many had become hardened, because of the exceedingly great length of the war; and many were softened because of their afflictions, insomuch that they did humble themselves before God, even in the depth of humility.”  This scripture teaches me that we can’t always control what we encounter, such as the adversities we face, but we can control how we respond to these things.  Elder Dallin H. Oaks said, “Our responses inevitably shape our souls and ultimately determine our status in eternity.  Because opposition is divinely decreed for the purpose of helping us to grow, we have the assurance of God that in the long view of eternity it will not be allowed to overcome us if we persevere in faith.  We will prevail.  Like the mortal life of which they are a part, adversities are temporary.  What is permanent is what we become by the way we react to them.”
We are moral agents.  We have the power to choose.  One of the choices we can make is how we respond to feelings of insult, mistreatment, neglect, disrespect, disappointment, and an array of other feelings of hurt.  Do we erupt in anger and lash out on the person who caused or delivered the hurt or even someone else we encounter?  Do we sever a relationship, whether new or long-formed?  Do we mirror back the same action thus perpetuating the injury?  Do we slander the person who caused us harm?  Do we become paralyzed and unable to move forward?  Do we hold on to that hurt until it festers into hate and resentment?  Do we discontinue our Church involvement because of our disappointment or hurt?

Or do we confront and release the feelings, allowing the Savior to heal our hearts?


(To read the rest of my talk given in church today, go to my other blog: seekinghappinessandjoy.blogspot.com)

Sunday, January 9, 2011

One Day at a Time

I was in the depths of despair only minutes ago.  I was experiencing feelings of defeat and an attitude of utmost frustration.

And then it hit me.

I know everything I need to do to get through this, because I attended a church meeting earlier this evening.

During tonight's Church Education System Broadcast for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, Elder D. Todd Chistofferson spoke of getting through challenging times.  During the fireside, my mind raced as I thought of so many things going on in my life right now.  Decisions I needed to make.  Confrontations that are going to occur.  Opportunities for humility that I should take otherwise I'll face damage to myself if I maintain my pride.  I didn't realize I heard very much of his talk.

Until it hit me.

Many of his words were brought to my remembrance and his meaning became very clear.


I am to face these trials one day at a time.


I can do that.  I can tackle this one piece at a time.  I don't know right now how it will all turn out, but I do know that I have the strength to make it through one day at a time.


I am grateful for this tender mercy of the Lord in answering my prayer before it could even be uttered.  I am grateful to have attended this fireside.  I am grateful to be a beneficiary of the simplicity of this Apostolic advice.  As I act upon this advice, I know that I will be blessed with the comfort and the strength to be seen through these trials.  I am grateful that I could converse with my Heavenly Father and to feel His immediate comfort and peace.  He is watching over me and He provided me with just what I needed.


Watch the church meeting I referenced here http://lds.org/broadcasts/watch/ces-fireside/2011/01?pid=738917358001&pkey=AQ~~,AAAAmBrDwtE~,_58lK-P1xvJ5WTHbRnmdONkYkAiPKoal&lang=eng

Monday, December 27, 2010

How I got to this moment in time

I was sitting in church yesterday next to a cousin of mine that I hadn't previously known.  I am quite excited to know him since he's also a convert to the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints like my mother.

As I sat there, I wondered.  How did I get to this moment in time?  What string of events led me to church in Wetumpka, Alabama on Sunday, December 26, 2010?

When I was eleven years old, I lived in a small northwest Florida town and went to church across the river in Blountstown.  I was in an age-assigned Sunday School group called Merry Miss.  My Merry Miss leader wanted us to learn a song from the Primary Songbook called "I Will Follow God's Plan for Me", but we didn't have anyone available to us in that small congregation to play the piano and help us learn that song.

I had been in band at school for almost a year by this point where I had learned about written music.  Using music books I had found at our house and a keyboard my father had picked up at a yard sale, I started teaching myself to play the piano so that I could play that Primary song for my class to practice.

We moved to a slightly bigger Florida town where there were plenty of opportunities to use my developing musical talents.  I enjoyed playing the keyboard but wanted to play a real piano, so I begged my parents to buy one.  They found one advertised for sale for $300.  That was quite a sacrifice for my parents, but they purchased the piano with the promise from myself that I would continue to teach myself to play.

I continued playing the piano for the youth meetings and set a goal to play for the congregational meeting (it helped that my grandmother had promised $100 to any grandchild who played in the congregational meeting).  The first hymn I played for the entire church congregation to sing was "How Firm a Foundation".

My family moved to Southwestern Utah when I was a sophomore in high school.  I continued to play for the youth meetings there.

When I was 16, I moved to a different part of town and was now attending a different ward (church congregation).  A woman there, who later served as my youth leader, invited me to learn to play the organ.  With her short instruction, I began playing the organ for congregational meetings.

As a young woman, I would attend the Temple regularly to perform baptisms for the dead.  While I waited for my turn, I would listen to the beautiful hymns flowing quietly through the building.  I assumed that the organ music was a recording.  One day, while I sat in the Temple, I heard a wrong note played.  It was then that I realized that the organ music was being played right then by someone in the Temple.  I got really excited and wondered aloud to my friend how I could have that opportunity to play.  A volunteer at the Temple came over and explained that I could volunteer as soon as I had participated in the other Temple ordinances.  It is traditional for young people in the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints to wait until they are about to go on a mission or be married in the Temple before they participate in these other ordinances.  I was close to neither at the time, but I stored that thought in my mind for when it would be applicable.

Fast forward to April 2009.

After counseling with my Bishop (my ecclesiastical leader), I decided it was a good time for me to go to the Temple and participate in the other ordinances that were available to me.  As I was leaving the St. George Temple that time, I remembered that thought and my desire to play the organ in the Temple and filled out a volunteer card.  I hand-wrote that I was interested most in playing the organ.

I received a phone call from a volunteer coordinator asking if I'd be willing to serve as a substitute for other organ players when they couldn't make their assigned shift.  I readily took that position and prayed for an opportunity to play.  I was able to play a half dozen times between April and June when I moved to Tooele.

Living in Tooele, the closest Temple was now the Salt Lake Temple.  I began attending the Salt Lake Temple.  After my first visit to this Temple, I filled out a volunteer card with hopes of playing the organ in the Salt Lake Temple as well.

I received a phone call from a volunteer coordinator who explained that they had more organ players than they could ever use but asked if I was willing to volunteer in other capacities.  He listed a few options that were conducive to my schedule.  I was intrigued by a position available at the Family File desk; however, I was hesitant, because I had little experience with Family History research.  But as he described the position, it sounded like office work; I could do office work.  I accepted that position and began volunteering weekly.

As a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, we are charged with the responsibility to learn of our family history so that we can perform sacred ordinances in the Temple for those family members who didn't have access to these things on Earth.  Temple patrons will bring information to the Family File desk so that they can perform these ordinances for their deceased family members.

I was filled with joy every time I printed these Temple ordinance cards for these patrons.  I couldn't believe the overwhelming positive emotions when someone would tell me their connection to the names on the cards as I cut them.  If I felt this way assisting someone else, how would I feel if I was printing my own Temple cards?

At this time, I gained access to a new church website that makes getting family names ready for the Temple so much easier.  Within minutes of signing up for the website and after only one text sent to my mother, I had all the information I needed to take my maternal grandmother's name to the Temple.
I continued volunteering and began my own Family History research.  Just before Christmas, my mother asked me if I was willing to go down South to visit her father during my winter break.  I consented telling her I wanted to make it a Family History adventure.

While visiting, my grandfather took me to a cemetery where his parents, uncles, aunts, and grandparents were buried.  I had been to that cemetery when I was younger since he was the caretaker and was there to mow the lawns, but I played on the toys by the church across the street not knowing the treasured family members that lay buried in that cemetery.  I began snapping pictures of headstones and grew excited to begin processing this information.

Also on this same trip, my mother took me to Eclectic, Alabama where her mother had been born and raised.  We contacted the cousin that we finally met up with yesterday.  He and his wife were in Salt Lake serving a mission for the Church.  He gave us contact information for another cousin of ours who we didn't know existed.  Andy took us on a cemetery tour of the county and I was able to take hundreds of photos of headstones and to see the graves of my great-grandparents, great-great-grandparents, and countless other relatives.

I continued my own Family History research and continued volunteering at the Temple.  During one volunteer shift, I was helping a gentleman who handed me a stack of cards.  I read the submitter's name on the card and then asked the gentleman his name.  I immediately recognized his name and told him, I'm your cousin.  He talked with me briefly and shared that this was the first time he had ever been inside the Temple with a member of his family outside of his wife and children.

A couple months ago, I asked my mother if we were going down South again for my break.  She said no since this would be the grandbabies' first Christmas.  Fortunately in early December, my mother changed her mind.  We tossed around possible itineraries and came up with a plan a couple days before we left town.

My mother contacted Cousin John about a possible visit.  Needing to attend church, we decided to plan our trip so that we could go to church with John in Alabama.


 And that is how I got to that moment in time.

Friday, December 10, 2010

Worth reviving the blog

I got an interesting surprise yesterday.  I received a picture message on my phone of my older sister having her head shaved.

Wait!  What?!

My sister had posted on facebook earlier in the day that there was a fundraiser at the school where she teaches, but I had no idea how committed she was to this fundraiser.

A fifth grade girl, Jenecee, was recently diagnosed with cancer.  A tumor and part of her thyroid were removed, but the cancer had spread to her lungs.  She has been undergoing chemotherapy these last weeks.

Mrs. Ashmore and my sister.  Mrs. Ashmore paid $250 for my sister to shave her head.

My sister said this morning via text message that she wanted Jenecee to have someone to be bald with.  Well, my sister has three others to be bald with as well.

Quadruplets: my sister, her husband, and their twin boys

Wednesday, September 1, 2010

Welcome to the world

Dear world,
You are so lucky. You just gained two brand new citizens who are likely to make a great contribution during their lifetimes.

Meet Jasper.


Meet Russell.

They may look small an insignificant now, but they will be a force to be reckoned with in no time. They come from goodly parents and will be well taught and well cared for. You are lucky to have them in your presence, world. Be good to them.

Sincerely,
A very proud aunt

Tuesday, August 17, 2010

A few thoughts on women's lib

I was helping some friends move this summer. A couple of guy friends were helping as well. One of the boys was pulling some items out of the truck and handed me a couple small things. I acted very offended, and he then moved out of my way and let me pick out something heavier.
Later in the move, I was carrying a large piece of furniture alone. When I got to the door of the house, he said out loud that he didn't know if he should offer help. I told him that I wanted him to treat me like a capable, independent woman, but I didn't want him to refrain from being a gentleman. He admitted that was a very fine, very difficult line to work with.
Fast forward a couple months. I was at lunch with him today. This very same topic came up, and I reminded him of our previous experience.
When we got to the car, he made it very obvious and very clear that he was getting the car door for me. He offered his hand and insisted I take it to ensure my safety. He was being very silly about it.
When he got in the other car door, he expressed that he would not like to be treated like a fragile object. I pointed out to him that there was a difference between being treated like I couldn't do it and being shown that I deserved more respectful and delicate treatment. That made sense to him.

I went on an overnight canoe trip last week with my friend, Holly. We had car trouble, so her father and brother picked us up at the end of the trip. I loved watching the way that Holly's father and brother treated her and interacted with her. They insisted she help load the canoes and tie them down. It wasn't because they thought she deserved part of the workload. It was because they trusted her ability and knew they could accomplish the task easier with her help.

One of my most treasured work-related memories had to do with my supervisor, Andy. Andy and I worked together in the automotive department at Wal-Mart. There were many a time that men would come in wanting to purchase goods or services from our department. I would offer to help them and they would walk past me and often times not even acknowledge me.
On one particular instance, a gentleman (can I even call him that?) walked right past me and my offer to help because Andy was in sight. This customer asked Andy about one of our tires. Andy knew the answer, but he used this opportunity to demonstrate his confidence in me and attempt to instill this in our customer base. He said to that particular customer that I would know better than he and walked him over to me. I more than adequately answered all this customer's questions.
It wasn't that Andy was too busy to answer the question or that he didn't want to help this customer. Like me, he was tired of the assumptions. He knew my ability.
It was one of the most empowering moments of my life. Andy taught me so much in that small gesture that day.

Sunday, August 1, 2010

An idea of romance

I'll admit it. I signed up with an online dating website.

Wow. That was hard to admit. It shouldn't be. It's typical for our technology-driven society. Alas, it is strange with how social I am and how many people I know that I'm not having the dating life I desire. It is as though dating has been replaced with meaningless social events that lead to little (but physical relationships, it seems).

But the above is not the purpose of this post.

As part of the service, I am able send site generated messages back and forth with my matches to help us get to know one another. One of the boys I'm communicating with recently responded to the questions I sent him. One of my questions was "How would you spend a romantic evening with someone you've been dating for more than a year?"
His response: "Having a picnic and watching the sunset together. Maybe I will even muster up the little skill I have and make the picnic myself."

I watch the sunset a few times a week. In fact, I stopped by a friend's house tonight, and he suggested we move the conversation outside so that we could watch the sunset. This is the same friend who cooked a wonderfully delicious dinner for me and my sister while we watched the sunset, just before watching the fireworks from the accessible rooftop.

A friend. I watched the sunset with a friend.

Maybe this just means I live a very romantic life already.

Or maybe this boy lives in a part of the city where the sunset isn't easily seen, so watching the sunset is a rare occasion for him. In that case, working to enjoy that simple part of life is romantic.

Maybe this sunset viewing would involve a beautiful hike to get to the location and a hidden guitar that he "finds" and uses to play a little song for me.

Or maybe the simplicity of it all would make it so romantic.

I mean the sunset is a glorious thing every time I watch it. For example, I love catching the sunset over the Great Salt Lake on my way home from the Salt Lake Temple. On the nights when there are clouds, I like to stick around until after the sun has set. The way the dusk light reflects off the varying depths of the water make it appear almost as though there are white caps of cresting waves. It makes me feel like I'm back in Florida. I can even sometimes hear the waves crashing onto the shore.

His idea, although very simple, is romantic. But is it the kind of romance I'm looking for? Why am I left wanting for more?

Maybe I'm too consumed with looking for more than I already have. Maybe the best kind of relationship would involve spending time with someone doing the things I already do, the things I already love. I shouldn't be put off by his response. I should appreciate that we share that enjoyment of the simple things in life. Maybe I should make the search for love a little less complicated.

Saturday, July 24, 2010

It depends on the thickness of its skull

After this week's Twilight Concert Series show, Casey and I went back to our friend's house. He and his roommate just moved into a 7th story penthouse just south of downtown Salt Lake. The penthouse also has a view of the Salt Lake Bees Stadium. Knowing that the Bees were having fireworks after their games last night and tonight, Casey and I used the power of suggestion (referencing how nice it would be to watch the show from a conveniently located penthouse) to score an invite. These guys are so classy that they suggested we come early enough to watch the sunset and then doubled the offer with a dinner invitation.

Dinner was on the grill while we watched the sunset. At one point, one of the boys posed the question, What is the largest predator you think you could fight to the death using only a hammer? After rationalizing her choice for a minute or so, Casey had to stop because she was grossed out by the images of carnage she was creating for herself. Our friend suggested that if she were in the coliseum, she would no doubtedly watch the horrific scene and might possibly enjoy it. She insisted that it would not be the case.

After dinner was so elegantly served on the ping pong table, we rushed outside to catch the fireworks show. From the roof (since the balcony had a slightly obstructed view), our friend spotted a handcuffed man being escorted from the bottom floor by a few officers.

Before our photoreceptor bleaching had been resolved, we had already shifted our attention to what would be our next show. Our buddy who had been arrested was starting to get upset. Although we couldn't make out his words, we could hear his raised voice. The female officer at his side had no trouble letting her voice carry. We could clearly hear her using his full first name, probably much like his mother had done repeatedly growing up.

The detained began displaying his resistance with his body. As they walked toward the police car, he began flailing his legs. Two bike cops rushed onto the scene at this time. The mass of officers circled the young man. Shortly after, he was on the ground. He had been tased (which we had barbarically been hoping for on the balcony). He was soon calf-roped, securing his legs that he had been attempting to use as a weapon.

A police minivan (which I never knew existed) was on the scene next. A female in a simple uniform exited the vehicle and began taking pictures of the man who was now lying very still on the ground. They rolled him over to get photographs of every angle.

In the mean time, we had busted out the binoculars. We each took turns getting a close-up of the action. I was bummed when it was my turn and the officers were blocking my shot. I never got a good look.

It was then that I realized that as averse as Casey was to the idea of watching an animal get taken down, we had no trouble watching this shirtless law-breaker meet his consequences.

LinkWithin

Related Posts with Thumbnails