Hello from Olivia and her tattooed-on Belle nightgown:
I made a critical discovery today:There are, in existence, a few pictures of me from my early childhood that are not "cropped" into just my face.
YES!!! Saved for posterity!!! That's right, great-great grandchildren, I'm thinking of you. Grandma did exist, and she was not just a floating head.
You see, when we moved -- in the greatest perceived atrocity of our time -- I was twelve. And my marvelous parents, in an effort to save their pre-teen from certain implosion, came up with many new ways to catch my interest and boost my self-esteem. One of these was to get my hair cut like Rachel on 'Friends,' but that is a tragedy for another day. Let's see . . . there were the contacts. And then of course the scrap-booking class that I got to take with my Mom clear in St. George, which I completely loved. There I learned the marvel of cropping photos. And it was there that I chopped my head out of every single picture ever taken of me and pasted hundreds of tiny floating heads on the page.
I very clearly remember the instructor looking at my work and saying "Wow, the thing about younger people is they really are bold in their choices." I totally didn't know what she meant by that.
So from there up until this very day, I thought that all the photographic evidence left of Baby, Toddler, and Child Marie was of Mutant Girl. The Floating Head. Scientific Wonder. But today -- in what I think is a big day for all of us -- I have learned there are at least THREE pictures that state otherwise. Phew!
A big day for all of us, I would say.
We leave for Girls Camp on Wednesday. I am very excited. But let me make one thing perfectly clear: I hated Girls Camp when I myself was a young woman. I'm not quite sure that my mother, who was my young women's president for most of my youth, is appreciative of my new gung-ho attitude. But you have to understand: it was like the Donner-Reed party every single year! Snow! More Snow! Snowed in! Forced into a night sitting up in a truck with my Dad and four other girls because every single item in camp was soaked through and it was still snowing! I remember that night so clearly: my muscles spasming because I was so tired and cramped and freezing cold, and telling the other girls, in all seriousness "You can eat me if you need to."
I may have had a flare for the dramatic.
I may still have a flare for the dramatic, but I'd rather not say for sure.
As a leader, though, Girls Camp is the bomb.com. I really do love my girls so much. I wonder how many times I can say that. Let's try it again: I really do love my girls so much.
I don't plan on any Donner-Reed like experiences, but I'll let you know when I get back and report.
Until then, here are the things on my mind: Katelyn gets into everything. And why is she crying right now? K.J.'s upcoming baptism and what to feed everyone. The summer lunch program. What I need to buy at the store. How much I don't want to go to the store. How much I don't want to clean my house. Why is my house dirty when I didn't make the mess and it was clean yesterday morning? This story about Katherine Hepburn from her book 'Me,' which is very interesting, by the way. And how last night I dreamed I was doing leaps and twirls all over a stage like I've never been able to do in real life. My leg extension was very impressive. The end.