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Fun Fridays

One of the best things about my new job is Fun Fridays. Every week, we have a fun activity for two hours or so. Last week, Scott, who volunteers at Hogle Zoo, persuaded a docent to come and bring some animals to show us.

This is a cast of the skull of the Ghost of the Bayou.

Here's a reptile, but I don't remember what kind.

We got to feel the snake. It was actually quite soft.

This lion skin reminded me of the last book in the Narnia Chronicles, The Last Battle.

But my favorite was the owl. No wonder they have the reputation of being so wise. It just sat there serenely staring. It's just like how I used to always have crushes on the silent boys in high school. I imagined they were thinking all sorts of deep things. Imagine my disappointment when I finally got up enough nerve to talk to them.

Look at those talons!

There was also a tiny little armadillo that curled up into a ball.

But when you set it down, it runs so quickly that I could barely get a picture.

And then when you pick it back up, it curls up so tightly. It was adorable.

Pioneer Day Fireworks

Even fireworks done on your driveway are awesome.

Summer Trip to NYC: Part 5

Emily and I started our Saturday morning with brunch followed by a subway ride down to South Seaport to check out the options at the TKTS. Even though it was pretty early on Saturday morning, I still saw several people reading Harry Potter and the Deathly Hollows. And a lot of other people waiting for the train to the Yankees game.

We picked up tickets for The Fantasticks (so excited!) and then walked to the pier for a view of the Brooklyn Bridge.

Then we did a little shopping in SoHo. There was a random street fair happening with all sorts of delicious smells. We got smoothies.

Afterwards, we rode uptown to the Met (about which I've already posted) followed by a quick stroll in Central Park, where we revisited Bethesda Fountain.

We couldn't stay long because we had to make it to the Snapple Theater for the show.

My dad introduced me to the Fantasticks. He had their record, and I remember playing it on Saturdays when we would clean the house. I loved it. It's a 60s play. Jerry Orbach (of Law & Order fame) starred in the original production. It's all about a boy (Matt, 20) and a girl (Louisa, 16) who live next door. Their parents pretend to feud by building a wall between the two houses. The children fall in love. The parents need a way to end the feud, so they hire El Gallo (and some actors) to pretend to abduct Louisa so Matt can fight him off and give them an excuse to be friends again. All seems well. But, as the narrator reminds us, things look different in the sunlight. The boy wants to see the world. The girl wants the romance she's read about in books. So they go their separate ways and find that life can be cruel. But they have to discover that in order to know the beauty of it. Because, as we find in the last song, "without the hurt, the heart is hollow." I love this play so much that I'm going to post some songs. I'll warn you, my mom finds them annoying. But she pretty much thinks everything I listen to is annoying.

Try to Remember

Much More

I Can See It

There Is a Curious Paradox

They Were You

Try to Remember (Reprise)

And since we couldn't take pictures during the performance (don't think I didn't consider sneaking some), I will just steal a few from the Internet.

I know, I know... you already want to see the play so badly that you're ready to hop on the next plane to New York. If not, I've got just the thing to make you book your tickets. Guess who played Matt in my production. I'll give you a hint:

Recognize him? It's none other than Mr. Anthony Federov, one of the former contestants of American Idol. I didn't realize it until intermission. I'll admit that it took the sheen off the second half just a bit.

We walked around some more after the play in search of dinner. I love that in New York, you can go in search of dinner at 11 pm and it's perfectly normal.

When we got home, I soaked my feet. After wearing flip flops in the city for a couple days, my feet were black as tar. It was disgusting. I left a gray film on Emily's poor bathtub. (Don't worry, I cleaned it.)

I had to leave by noon on Sunday to get to the airport, so Emily and I only had time for bagels and cupcakes and one last stroll.

I had pre-ordered a copy of Harry Potter weeks ago, of course, but I decided to pick one up at the airport since I had 10 hours of traveling ahead of me. I got the last copy at the airport Borders, and it was well worth it.

Summer Trip to NYC: Part 4

This is a little out of order because really we didn't visit the Metropolitan Museum of Art until Saturday afternoon, but it will need an entry all its own, so I figured I would just get started with it. Once again, a lot more pictures of art (with bursts of erudite commentary).

We started off our visit to the Met with lunch at the rooftop grill. Mmm... ham and brie sandwich washed down with a cold Diet Coke. But the view was the best part.

We had to go through the Greek Hall to get to the elevators that took us to the roof. The Met is a maze.

And then a quick breeze through the Egyptian wing (since it was on the way to the American wing).

Ok, some John Singer Sargent. Apparently, Edith Wharton wasn't fond of JSS, according to a book Emily had recently read. I can't speak for JSS as a person, but I really like his art.

I like his portraits, of course, but really his streetscapes (like the ones of Venice) and other smaller ones (like this next one) are my favorite.

I also love Mary Cassatt. In this painting, the little girl is my favorite. There's just something about her expression.

I hadn't realized that Samuel Morse, inventor of Morse code, was an artist, too. But it would seem, according to the placard, that he wasn't the most successful one. Still, I liked these paintings of his. (At least, I think the second one is his, but I don't quite remember.)

I can't remember if this one was American or not. I can't figure out this expression, though. Just what is it? Disgust? The placard seemed to think it was sweet and charming, but I disagree. There's a petulance there that I like.

I can't remember who did this painting either, but I liked it.

I couldn't help but feel the placement of the American paintings - stuck in the back corner behind the Egyptian art and crowded into galleries with half walls or stacked from floor to ceiling, such as in the painting below - really marginalized the value of American art. I dunno, though. Maybe that's just my American inferiority complex talking. Still, it certainly wasn't in prime position. There were, however, an awful lot of paintings of George Washington. I'm glad. We need our myths.

Here is something we don't need more of though.

I don't care how elderly you are, sheer shirts require a camisole. period.

Ok, moving on to some sculptures.

Ugolino and His Sons is truly horrifying.

And yet, this son has the most peaceful expression.

There were two sculptures representing Leda and the Swan. Both of them show Leda as affectionately gazing at the swan. See:

They were an interesting contrast to my Yeats' inspired view of the legend.

Leda and the Swan

A sudden blow: the great wings beating still
Above the staggering girl, her thighs caressed
By the dark webs, her nape caught in his bill,
He holds her helpless breast upon his breast.

How can those terrified vague fingers push
The feathered glory from her loosening thighs?
And how can body, laid in that white rush,
But feel the strange heart beating where it lies?

A shudder in the loins engenders there
The broken wall, the burning roof and tower
And Agamemnon dead.
Being so caught up,
So mastered by the brute blood of the air,
Did she put on his knowledge with his power
Before the indifferent beak could let her drop?

Let's move on to Nineteenth Century European Art. (This was my favorite class at Smith, by the way. I wish I could take it again.)

Goya. The men in the background are menacing.

I love Berthe Morisot. First of all, the name Berthe is awesome (because remember Girbaud). But also, she was a married woman who still painted. That didn't seem to happen too often. But why are the expressions of her women so blank all the time?

I have mixed feelings about Renoir. Sometimes his paintings seem too sweet. But I really like this one.

And this one, solely because of the expression of the woman facing us I don't know what it is about it.

I used to not like Degas for pretty much the same reason I have mixed feelings about Renoir. I thought he was all ballerinas, but it's paintings like this that make me love Degas.

This is a detail from a painting showing the expulsion of Adam and Eve from the Garden. I love Eve's expression. (This reminds me of a great blog entry I read not too long ago.)

Hey, remember when BYU wouldn't let Rodin's The Kiss be exhibited? That was sad. Here's a different version.

More sculpture:

This artist is actually really little. It's almost pocket-sized.

And what collection of Nineteenth Century art would be complete without some Van Gogh. Again, just some details from larger paintings.

Before we could leave the Met, though, we had to stop by Vermeer's Young Woman with a Water Jug because it was the first painting I ever really loved. But on the way, we saw a lot of other great pieces. I never really appreciated El Greco before, but this piece... this piece made me want to look at more.

I know I've mentioned it before, but I really, really want to live in a Rococo painting like one of these.

And in total contrast, the stark solemnity of Zuberon.

Ah, here it is. Vermeer.

Next time I go to the Met, I want to spend more time in the European Paintings section. I felt like I hardly got to see anything.

Summer Trip to NYC: Part 3

After the MoMA, I took the subway down towards Washington Square Park and NYU. Emily had these nifty little cards that have short walking tours of NYC. Not only was there interesting information on the back, but it helped me find my way after getting turned around on the Subway.

I love New York row houses with stoops.

The tour took me on a little cobblestone street called Washington Mews. For a minute, I thought I was in Williamsburg or Georgetown.

And then there he was, George Washington. 6'20" - with a wig for his wig and a brain for his heart. He's coming, he's coming...

I was a little disappointed that I didn't see any chess or Scrabble players in the park. I was hoping to look over their shoulders. Instead, I just sat by the fountain for a while and nursed my poor feet. I had to buy bandaids. Here's a tip: flip flops are not the best shoes for walking around NYC. I love parks. I love how people just lounge around reading. One girl was reading this big anthology and I figured she was a student at NYU and then I thought about what life would've been like if I had gone to NYU. Sigh.

The wind picked up and I could feel the spray of the fountain on my arms and legs, a welcome respite from the summer heat. And there was a nice rainbow.

Once again, I'm stuck at a tourist destination with no one to take my photo. Had to take one myself, and you can't even tell where I'm at.

The plan was to then head over to the Staten Island Ferry so I could see the Statue of Liberty. But I couldn't for the life of me fine a downtown subway. So I just kept walking, thinking one was sure to come up. I spend a lot of wasted time getting lost and walking around in New York City. Luckily, that's also part of the fun. I finally found the right train and made it to the ferry station. Unfortunately, I was too late to get the ferry. Emily and I had dinner reservations. But I did snap a quick shot of the Statue of Liberty in the distance from the balcony.

I used to hate modern buildings made of glass. I tend towards the traditional, but then one time, I realized the point of the glass - to reflect the world around it. I liked how this building fragmented and reflected the sky.

And then the subway (oh sweet, air-conditioned subway!) back to Midtown to meet up with Emily for our dinner reservations at Payard Patisserie & Bistro. The best part of dinner, though, was dessert. We got to choose out of all of these:

From the restaurant, it was a quick walk over to Central Park where Neko Case was performing for the SummerStage Concert Series. We got there a little late, though. It was impossible to see from our spot.

So after about four songs, we decided to explore the park a little more. I had somehow completely missed Bethesda Fountain and the famous steps in previous trips, so I wanted to see them this time. I was not disappointed. Except for the fact that, once again, my camera is not the best at night. It just can't capture the perfection of a summer night with the fireflies sparking and a group of people dancing under the stairs. But I tried.

Afterwards, Em tried to convert me to the joy of Starbuck's Passion Tea, but I wasn't impressed. Luckily, the conversation made up for the disappointing refreshment.

Summer Trip to NYC: Part 2

I don't know why I feel compelled to take so many photos at museums and why I always want to post them on my blog. But just so you know, this post is all about my visit to the MoMA and most of the photos are of paintings.

Let's just start off with Van Gogh's Starry Night. It is there. And there are crowds of people that want to see it.

I found my way to the front and spent some time with the painting. I have always loved it. During my junior year of high school, Cybill and I recreated it in pastels on a big sheet of paper in the Euphony room at Alta. Here are a few detail photos:

At this point, a man came up to me and tapped me on the shoulder. I turned around and he asked me to please move so that they (and he gestured toward a large crowd of people) could take a picture with the painting. I obliged, but resented it. Now I take my fair share of photos of paintings, but that's not the point of going to a museum. I always see people having their picture taken in front of a particularly famous painting and that's fine, but are they really looking at the painting? Is it art or a tourist attraction? Is it something to just claim that you've seen and bring home a picture like a souvenir? And am I any better? Probably not. But at least I was looking closely.

Moving on. Another familiar piece (and another crowd).

I got lost in the black hole at the center of this piece.

I have always loved the Bird in Space sculptures by Constantin Brancusi. The lines are so simple and beautiful and I love the texture. But seeing it in person, I also loved the shadow it cast and the space it occupied.

I love rounding corners in a gallery and coming across something you've only seen in books. Like Marcel Duchamp's Bicycle Wheel.

I guess I was obsessed with shadows and how the pieces fit within the museum because I also found the shadows cast by the bicycle wheel to be the best part.

While we're on Duchamp... Mostly I love the title of this piece: To Be Looked At (from the Other Side of the Glass) with One Eye, Close to, for Almost an Hour.

And while we're talking about shadows... I also liked the shadows on the canvas cast by the tools in this piece.

Elvis can be startling.

The representative piece of futurism.

A detail from a Jackson Pollock:

Kirchner's condemnation of the city.

(I really liked the neon orange hat, so garish.)

Klimt's Hope II.

You could stand in front of this forever and continue to find new details.

Some Matisse.

I like how these pieces by Mondrian are bigger than their canvas. There's something more that we aren't seeing.

Sometimes it was nice to take a break from the paintings and look outside.

I also like it when museums are their own work of art.

Back to the art. I love this period of Picasso. The figures are so monumental. There's a sense of stability and peace in them, but also a sadness.

You may remember when I started to change my mind about Gauguin. It was at the Minneapolis Institute of Art and it was a cat in a chair. He's winning me over even more with these puppies!

I can never get over how still Seurat's pointilist paintings are. There are thousands of tiny brushstrokes, which you would think would make the painting dynamic and energetic, but they always seem so silent.

Since I didn't have anyone to take my picture in front of famous paintings, I had to take my own. I just like to know that I was there.

Summer Trip to NYC: Part 1

This past weekend I went to New York City to visit my friend, Emily, who's a summer associate at a big law firm. If you'd like to know what Emily does, check out this article in the New York Observer. Here begins my first installment of photos and narrative about the trip.

Originally, the plan was to go to DC. That changed, but I still had to fly to DC. I mourned a little my trip to DC that wasn't when I saw the Washington Monument and Jefferson Memorial from the airplane.

Apparently, there was bad weather on the East Coast only detectable by Doppler Radar. It seemed perfectly fine to me, but my 7:30 flight was delayed to 8:30. I sat down, pulled out my book (Franny and Zooey), and nibbled on a granola bar. A man came and sat next to me. He wore a three-piece suit and a hat, which he rested on the extended handle of his briefcase. He started talking to me in a low voice. Sometimes I couldn't hear what he said, and I adopted the smile and nod that I would use on my students when I couldn't understand them either. It worked just as well then. He shared some of his banana with me, and I watched his stuff while he went to talk to the people at the desk. While he was away, they announced that at that moment, they had a plane with 60 people on it and they could fit 60 more. Therefore, they would take the first 60 people who got in line. I abandoned my post and my Diet Pepsi, which I sadly left by the side of my chair. I felt bad for a minute about leaving Mr. Hat's stuff, but I really wanted to get to New York. It all worked out, though, because when I got on the plane, he had somehow also slipped on board. He wished me luck. It was sweet, really, as we sat talking. He warned me to get a cab rather than take public transportation until I told him what part of town Emily lived in. He figured it would be safe enough.

I ended up making it to New York at my scheduled time. Emily had suggested taking the shuttle that would drop me off at Grand Central. I had figured I would take the bus and the subway like I had before. But when I walked out of the terminal, the shuttle was right there already, so I hopped on. Unfortunately, due to the steam pipe explosion the day before, the bus wasn't stopping at Grand Central. Instead, I was let off in the heart of Times Square. I love how you never feel awkward walking around Times Square with a suitcase, no matter what time it is. I took the subway. The train was already there when I got down the stairs. I hurried in without really checking the directions, so I asked an older lady sitting by the door if it was headed toward Grand Central. She nodded, looked at the tag on my suitcase and asked if I were Katie. I nodded (and turned the tag inward so my information wasn't showing anymore). She got excited and said that she was Katie, too! She didn't have any teeth, and I couldn't really understand her. But apparently, our same names bonded us. She kept reassuring me where to get off. I looked out the window at the second stop, and she tapped my knee and said, "Next one." I guess I look really naive.

I finally made it to Em's and explained to her doorman who I was. You would think that we'd call it a night. I mean, it was almost 11 and I had been traveling all day, but I was also starving! So we started walking to find a place to eat and ended up at the Empire State Building. I have always wanted to go to the observatory of the Empire State Building. The desire came more from the classic musical, On the Town and King Kong than Sleepless in Seattle or An Affair to Remember. When I went to NYC for the day as a student at Smith, my goal (after the Met) was to make it to the Empire State Building. I went the wrong direction and was too scared to look at a map. I also tried to get my friend Julie to stop when we somehow ended up right in front of it on our roadtrip to DC for Thanksgiving in 1998. She didn't. So I was glad to finally get to the top of the Empire State Building.

I think we went at a pretty good time, too. Look at the length of this roped off pathway and imagine it full of people!

It was still pretty crowded, but not as bad as it could have been. We joined the throngs of people lining the fence to get a look at the city lights.

I really need to get a camera that works better at night. Or at least learn how to use mine better. It was really hard to get pictures of us at the Empire State Building.

(And it was really windy, so my hair was not behaving.)

The Empire State Building has style, though. Like these lights:

And even the bathroom was cool. But they never want you to forget that you're in the Empire State Building. They have little symbols in the elevator.

And of course, there's this big hint in the front lobby.

I made Emily walk home with me through Times Square. As a resident New Yorker (at least for 2.5 months), she hates Times Square, but I love it. I can't get enough of all those lights and people.

We didn't crawl into bed until 3 am that night, and while I was incredibly tired from not sleeping much the night before, I also felt a sense of satisfaction of being in the city and going to bed at 3 am while thousands of people were still up and about. I wasn't feeling so satisfied, however, the next morning when I had a whole city at my hands and all I wanted to do was sleep in.

Sunday in the Park

One of my new favorite things is spending an hour or so at Liberty Park on Sunday afternoon. I take my journal and my iPod and just write for a while and watch people. It makes me feel like I'm part of a community, a good way to be both alone and part of something.

(Note the awesome Zumreed headphones. I found out about them on Oh Happy Day and had to get some. I kind of wish I had gotten them in red, though.)

I won't be posting for a while. I'm headed to New York City to visit my friend Emily for the weekend. And before I can blog about the trip, I have to read Harry Potter. I'll be a couple days behind the rest of the world, and I don't want to accidentally overhear anything.

Working for the Weekend

I now know what this means. And the best part is sleeping in. I'm still debating about whether or not working full time is better than being a student. As a student, I pretty much set my own schedule. If I had a whim to run to Target during the afternoon, why not? Or I could just take off and go on a little road trip pretty much whenever I wanted. BUT in the back of my mind, I always knew there was something I should be doing, some book I should be reading. Working full time, though, means that I HAVE to wake up early every morning, fix a lunch, go to work at the same place, doing the same thing for 8 hours every day. The other day I remembered I needed to get an oil change, and I realized that now I had to wait for the weekend, along with everyone else. BUT I could go to the park on Monday night with friends, shopping with Kris on Wednesday, and swimming with Kylie on Thursday with a clear conscience. There was nothing else that I needed to do. Oh yeah, and as of next Friday, I will even have my first paycheck so I can actually afford to do all these things.

Maybe in a year I will really miss school and be ready to go back, but for right now, I'll just work for the weekend. That sounds good.

Something I'm Learning, Slowly

Last summer I took a film class, mainly to keep my stipend coming through those long summer months so I didn't have to get a job. It was a lazy summer. I read a lot (for fun, not class), watched two episodes of "What I Like About You" every afternoon, and twice a week I would attend this class for three hours, most of which would be spent watching the movie in class and then our professor would ask questions. I knew all I had to say was that it reminded me of Foucault, without having to explain what I meant because merely mentioning Foucault (and maybe something about the panopticon) was enough. Sometimes I think I cheated myself out of my education, but it was heavenly to go to my air-conditioned classroom and just watch good movies every Tuesday and Thursday.

I ended up writing my final paper on Fellini's 8 1/2, which meant that I watched it a lot. I never got tired of it. I was thinking about it tonight while driving on the freeway to Kris's house. Actually, I was thinking about something else that I'm learning lately, and Guido's struggle came to mind. I have this tendency towards exclusion. A kind of all or nothing attitude. I remember last Christmas going for a walk around the neighborhood. It was twilight, so a lot of homes had lights on inside but hadn't yet shut their blinds. Strolling along, I could see glimpses into these other lives and it completely overwhelmed me because I knew that I could never know these people. They had all these memories, experiences, emotions, relationships, etc. that I could never be a part of. My immediate desire was to then shut them all out. Pretend they don't exist. If I can't know everything about them, I don't want to know anything.

Guido asks Claudia toward the end of the film, "Could you walk out on everything and start life all over again? Could you choose one single thing, and stick faithfully with it? Could you make it the one thing that gives your life meaning... just because you believe in it? Could you do that?"

Claudia turns the question back on him, "Could you?"

And of course Guido, always the confessional artist, lives through his characters and so answers from the point of view of his character. "No, the character I'm thinking of couldn't. He wants to possess and devour everything. He can't pass up anything. He's afraid he'll miss something. He's dying, drained of blood. "

I should probably have said earlier a little bit about the plot of 8 1/2. Guido Anselmi, a film director, has a producer, a crew, and several actresses signed on to tell his story. However, the story is yet to be written. In fact, it is still being developed, and Guido revises aspects of the story throughout the film, adding memories as they come to him and adapting the role of characters like Claudia to reflect his changes. People ask him what his film is about, and he tells each of them a different story. Really, though, he says he has "something so simple to say," but he lacks the ability to do so. Each memory, each person in his life plays a part, and so he cannot assign them roles and give direction because they continually blend into each other; Saraghina, the dancing woman of his youth, becomes Carla, the mistress of his adulthood. The question becomes do you search for salvation in one person? Can one thing give your life meaning? Guido ultimately rejects that idea and resolves his dilemma by including everyone in his film. The final scene (gratefully found on YouTube - that place has everything!), shows all the characters together, holding hands. The clip below doesn't have subtitles, but when Carla (the mistress) comes to speak to him, she says, "You know, I understand what you are trying to say. You're trying to say that you can't do without us."

So as I was driving tonight, I was thinking about what it means when someone cares for you. And somehow I fall into my same trap of thinking all or nothing. Care for me and care for no one else. Or if I care for you, I can't care for anyone else. I want to box things up in a neatly wrapped package. But this scene at the end, with everyone holding hands and moving together reminded me of how unsatisfactory that inclination is. We all become a part of each other's lives. The roles blend at times. The characters shift, but we're all important. We're all part of the story.

Sometimes You Need a Little Christopher Walken

This video always cheers me up:

But what really makes me happy (and a little sad, which is the best kind of mix) are these letters from Adrienne found on Brandon Bird's website:

I Adore Pyrotechnics

I love the Fourth of July. You get the day off work (and this time I got paid for it!), no hassle with buying presents or anything, and a good excuse for a bbq and homemade ice cream. This year we made it even more low key by ordering pizza and buying ice cream. Then we walked down to Sugarhouse Park for fireworks. We almost made it before they began, but ended up on the lawn of a Korean Presbyterian church near Highland High. I don't know why I always try to take good pictures of fireworks. It just never captures it right. But I still kept trying.

Afterwards, we played with sparklers in the front yard.

Luckily, I get to pretty much repeat this holiday again on the 24th. I sometimes get annoyed hearing all about the pioneers. I mean, what have they done for me lately? But then I remember, another paid holiday and fireworks. That's good enough.

Montana: The Grandparents

I took a break from blogging for a bit. You know, work, friends, hanging out, fireworks, etc. But here are some final pictures from my trip to Montana. Mike and I spent both evenings (I can't believe there were only two), out on the back deck with my grandparents enjoying Montana summer nights and sunsets.

I wanted to take some pictures of grandma's beautiful roses, but a storm was brewing and it was too windy. They kept coming out blurry.

Until I turned the flash on, that is.

The sunset that night was incredible. But some houses kept getting in the way. Stupid suburban expansion.

I love Montana. It's in my blood, and I think I need to be there every so often just to feel normal again. I can't believe I was disappointed initially when I was called to serve my mission there. I couldn't have gone anywhere else.

Montana: Whitefish City Beach

Ahhh, the beach. You can really only go swimming there in July and August, but it's so worth it. Even if you don't go swimming, it's the perfect place for a stroll. Or a sit and a think. I tried skipping rocks, but it didn't go very well.

These little girls were so cute. They were acting like the ducks and kept fawning over them. Very unlike the little boys who kept trying to throw rocks at the ducks.

The colorful rocks I kept trying to skip.

We went to the beach twice, once in the morning and then again in the afternoon before heading back to grandpa's house. It's my favorite spot in Whitefish.

Montana: The Sacred (Virtual) Tour

The only tradition my family ever really kept was the Sacred Tour. I don't know what it was but we all grow too attached to past dwellings and tend to idealize them and grow nostalgic for them. So the first thing we would do when visiting Whitefish was take the Sacred Tour of all our old haunts. When I was able to visit my grandparents in Whitefish while serving on my mission, I forced poor Sister Stewart to endure the Sacred Tour. And it's not just Whitefish. Luckily, I lived in three houses in Lafayette, so when my mom and brother came to visit, they also got the Sacred Tour. And every visit to my Grandma Erickson's in Smithfield, UT also consisted of the Sacred Tour of my mother's childhood. So now, dear readers, you get a virtual Sacred Tour of the Whitefish of my youth. My family lived there from 1981 to 1985.

Also, maybe you should know how much the kids in my family loved Whitefish. It was A LOT! When we moved back to Utah, I was only seven years old, but I, along with all my siblings, was mad. We used to joke about the guards at the borders of Utah that would keep us inside so we couldn't get back to Whitefish. Also, I can't tell you how many dreams I had as a child about finding a secret door that would take me back to Whitefish. We totally romanticized it, and even as adults now, it keeps its rosy sheen.

Ok, on with the tour.

The first thing we look for when coming into Whitefish is the Mormon Church. Seems strange, I know, but it's right there on the outskirts of town and we have lots of memories of going to church there and afterwards, we would use the classroom dividers to make mazes and turn out the lights and fumble through them in the dark. I also remember picking raspberries in the church farm that no longer exists. We stopped by the church and reminisced about how dad would let us drive the car in the parking lot, but we forgot to take a picture. So the virtual tour actually begins with Safeway.

I've always had a soft spot in my heart for Safeways in other parts of the country, merely because there was one in Whitefish. Also, that was where I bought my one and only Nancy Drew book on a summer trip to Whitefish.

Next door is the bowling alley, the Pin & Cue. We went there once for Mikey's birthday. I think it might've been the same birthday when we went to see the movie Speed.

And we noticed that Dos Amigos, which used to be over by grandpa's, has moved into town. Actually, I think it moved into town years ago, but we still just always remember it being by grandpa's house.

Ok, now I have to switch things up a bit. When Mikey and I took the Sacred Tour, we didn't do it chronologically. We went to our last house first because my camera battery was threatening to run out ever since we started our journey and Mikey wanted to make sure we got pictures of the Red House, since that's the one he remembered most. But, I'm going to rearrange things so that the tour follows chronologically the time we lived in Whitefish, rather than our trip to visit it.

First up, the White House:

I know what you're thinking. It's blue. That happened about 10 years ago. They also added the porch. It's ok blue, but I wish someone would come to their senses and paint it white again. There used to be a huge apple tree in the backyard and I remember how lovely it was when it would blossom.

Here's the view of Whitefish Lake from the White House:

We could walk there and on the fourth of July, everyone in the church came and set their blankets out on our yard because we had an awesome view of the fireworks. I wish I were there today.

The Bartlett's used to live next door, but apparently their old house has been torn down to make way for the new.

Whitefish is becoming quite the tourist destination/resort town. Still, I would totally summer there. In fact, one day I hope to own a little house there.

These apartments are really close to the beach. Matt used to throw kittens off them. When I came back to visit once right after my mission, I found out the elders serving in the area lived there. I was totally jealous.

Next up, the Gray House (we were so creative with our names). The Gray House was designed by a famous architect, or so we have been told. It is made up of four cubes. I just remember locking myself in the bathroom, falling down the hard, shiny red stairs, and my mom doing shadow puppets on the wall before turning out the lights. Also, there was a huge St. Bernard dog that lived next door.

The house was really small. It only had 2 bedrooms. I guess that's why the current owners (or someone in the past) had to build this hideous add-on.

They could've at least painted it the right color. Geesh. Have a little respect for my past, please.

I always thought this round house next door was the coolest house in the world.

Just down the hill lived the Hudsons. Amy Hudson was Amanda's best friend. I had a crush on one of her older brothers and Mikey had a crush on her younger sister, Becca. We were there a lot. I got my first bee sting there. Their house used to be yellow.

And not too far away was what we called Rocket Park, but its real name is Soroptimist Park.

The merri-go-round still works. Really well. I got totally dizzy.

We took a break from visiting our old houses to stop by grandpa's old house. About three years ago, he and Grandma Barbara moved to a new house in Kalispell. I was a little bit sad because I loved visiting grandpa's house in the mountains. Each curve and stretch of the road had its own name, like Candy Cane Lane (where the red tags for cutting timber were tied on the trees), Mexican Hat Trick, Lemondrop Hill, etc. But we knew where to turn based on this restaurant, which used to be Dos Amigos.

You go up and up and up until you get to grandpa's. He had the best view from one of the three decks. We caught a glimpse of it in between other houses.

Mike and I were hoping that no one would be home so that we could maybe sneak a peek through the windows. Unfortunately, everyone was at home and they were all outside. They looked at us each time we drove by. We just sneaked a picture from up the hill instead.

We used to race each other down the gravel driveway in our Big Wheels and dance on the porch after slathering ourselves in bug spray.

At some point during all this we had lunch at Dos Amigos. Mmm... tasty.

Finally, the Red House. This is the house that Mikey and I probably remember the most since we were still pretty young in the other houses. (Mikey is 2.5 years my junior.) It changed colors, too.

I won't bore you with all my memories, but let me just point out that I used to play Barbies behind this lilac bush and used switches from the Birch tree to make bows and arrows.

Mike and I decided to go for a walk in the old neighborhood. We found the house that used to have the tire swing.

And walked on the bridge across Whitefish River.

A lady was out walking and saw us taking pictures, so she stopped and offered to take a picture of the two of us. We told her all about how we had grown up there and were just visiting our old house. She told us about how she had moved there from Somers and taught school in Columbia Falls. Then she went to take our picture and as Mike put his arm around me in typical picture-taking fashion, she said, "Act like you're in lust, er... in love." The true awkwardness was hidden by my sunglasses, but I think you can also tell in my smile.

We stopped by Muldown Elementary, too, and played on the playground for a bit.

What about the rest of the town? Here are some pictures of downtown Whitefish.

My favorite Barbie, Crystal Barbie, was bought at Crystal Winters. She had the most awesome shoes... that my little brother threw into the woods surrounding grandpa's house not even one day after I got her.

Here's the Fire Station and City Hall:

And the Bull Dog Saloon:

Mikey and I totally planned on having lunch there since we were now old enough, but as we were headed towards it, some people came out the door and it seemed way too dark and smokey inside. Thus we opted for Dos Amigos.

The train depot.

I remember being stuck in traffic as the train went by and counting the number of cars. One of the saddest things for us kids was visiting Whitefish one year and finding that they old, steel viaduct had been replaced with a boring one.

I always thought this First Presbyterian Church was pretty. According to Matt, that's where all his friends went.

And when this building with the etched glass waterfall window was built, I thought it was the height of elegance.

My education began in the basement of this old high school, currently under renovation.

We don't remember this twisty slide, but we should have. It's awesomely scary. And sharp.

After a long afternoon of exploring and reminiscing, we headed back towards Kalispell, using the backroads and coming across the Blue Moon. It used to seem out in the middle of nowhere, but now it's in a thriving junction.

This virtual tour is missing an important part of Whitefish, City Beach. I figured this entry was already too long, though, so I'm going to save the pictures from the beach for another one. However, that'll have to wait for another day because I'm going to head over to Matt and Izzy's and start my patriotic celebrating.

Montana: The Drive

Mike and I made a quick trip up to Montana last week to visit our grandparents and pick up a desk and some boxes of stuff that belonged to my Granny (who passed away when I was nine). I made Mikey take a detour through the Bitterroot Valley so I could visit the first area in my mission, lovely Corvallis. It's nestled in between Hamilton and Missoula, for those unfamiliar with this blessed part of the country. I lived there for 6 months, surviving one of the worst wildfires in its history. As we came over the pass and through Sula and Darby, the effects of the fire were still salient. I was driving, though, so no pictures. It didn't take long to take Mikey on a tour. Here's the main street.

Basically, it had a post office, a couple bars, a vet, and a quick stop gas station just around the corner. I also drove him past my trailer in the Corvallis Mobile Village. I was secretly hoping the Johnson kids would be outside, or any of the other children we used to play with, but no one was. I would've liked to linger longer and rediscover the roads my companion and I traveled and knew so well and maybe visit some people, but it has been a long time. I haven't kept in touch with anyone, and Mikey was eager to press on. I settled with taking a picture of the mountains I used to see every day.

As much as I loved Corvallis and the Bitterroot Valley, even more beautiful country lay ahead of us. Growing up, we would drive to Whitefish every summer for our family vacation to visit Grandpa, and my favorite part of the trip was north of Missoula as we neared Flathead. Granted, most of the time on the way up, it was dark and I was half-asleep. I had to wait for the drive home to really get an eyeful. But because Mikey and I are now adults and capable of leaving early in the morning, we got to see the Flathead Valley in daylight. Here's a view from along Highway 93.

We stopped at an overlook just before reaching Polson to get a couple good pictures without the blur of the road.

We made excellent time and arrived at my grandparents' new digs before 7 that night, so we had plenty of time to relax on the porch and catch up.

Rediscovery

I recently rediscovered "Wuthering Heights" by Kate Bush. I read Wuthering Heights in 8th grade. I don't think I appreciated it very much. I couldn't identify with any of the characters, and I preferred Jane Eyre or The Tenant of Wildfell Hall. I think it might be time to revisit Emily Bronte.

While I'm posting songs, here are two more that have been speaking to me the past couple weeks:

"Mad World" from Donnie Darko and "Superstar" covered by Sonic Youth.

In other news, my first day of work is tomorrow and I just returned from Montana. Pictures from the trip are forthcoming.