Top of the World Without Flashlights

On the day of graduation back in May, after a rousing and hilarious game of Apples to Apples, my roommates and I and the remainder of our party guests decided to go to Top of the World* so that Abbey, Emma, and I could see it before we were "officially done" with undergraduate. So, we piled into two cars and followed Amanda up the hill to the outlook point.

Top of the World, if I'm explaining correctly, is a scenic outlook at the top of the tallest point in Manhattan. The hill can easily be identified by 'MANHATTAN' in very large letters that has been put into the side of the hill. Visitors can sit and observe the view from the letters, or take various trails that lead down the hill. The night of graduation was the first time I'd ever been there, so I was especially excited though I knew that it was probably the last time I'd get to spend time with Abbey before she left for Chicago.

Once we'd parked and realized that we'd forgotten flashlights--it was after dark--Amanda led us to the Manhattan sign, were there were two couples enjoying the view,** and we took a moment to enjoy the city at night, from Wal-Mart over to the other side of Tuttle Creek Boulevard.

"There's another place that I should show you, c'mon," Amanda said, leading us back up the path and into brush.

My phone was my only light source, and as soon as she headed what seemed in the dark as off the path, I got really nervous. Regardless, I followed Heidi and everyone else down another short path and up onto a wide expanse of concrete surrounded by trees. Here, we couldn't really see a good view of Manhattan because of all the trees, but we could see the stars. Granted, we couldn't see a lot because of the lights from the city, but there were a few that shone brightly enough for us to catch a glimpse of them.

There was a rustling in the brush bordering our viewpoint. Then there were noises. My scaredy-cat side thought we were minutes away from being attacked.

"Are you okay?" I asked Heidi, who was nearby.

"Yeah."

The others became louder. Emma and Amanda scoffed at the sounds, and Abbey was jumping around. Alisha was talking about Darren Criss. I stepped closer to Heidi.

"Seriously?!" I finally called out. It wasn't funny anymore. "This is immature. We are in college. GOD."

Amanda came over to me and placed her hands on my shoulders. "Heather, it's just those jerks we interrupted earlier. We are not going to be attacked. They got mad that we interrupted their make out session, and they're trying to get back at us."

"I KNOW," I shrieked. "But I have an overactive imagination that's going crazy right now. This is why I can't handle horror movies."

We made our way back to the outlook point by the parking lot, giggling, talking, and making jokes while trying to soak up every last delicious moment of what had been an amazing, wonderful day. It had been, truly, the best day, and as curfew came at 11pm, I was devastated that it was over. We said goodbyes to Abbey, exchanged hugs with one another and went our separate ways.

This summer, as far as I can remember, was probably the one that went by the fastest. I read a lot, worked, fine tuned my resume, applied for a few jobs. Packed. Moved into a wonderful little apartment that puts the Tiny Blue Room to shame a hundred times over. Classes have been in session for about two weeks, and it's been so incredibly strange not to be going on to campus. As I wait to hear from the jobs I applied for, I am trying to keep my head in the mindset of what I want to accomplish. Graduation day was so long ago, but it feels like it just happened. I'm thankful for the break, but I know I'll be ready to get back into the groove once graduate school gets here.

How strange time is.


*To this day, I'm not sure if it's officially called Top of the World or Manhattan Hill. For the sake of continuity in this post, I'm going to refer to it as Top of the World.

**They were making out. We were being loud. It was awkward.

The Dog In The Road

Yesterday, when my sister and I were coming back from a trip to Wal-Mart (something we do a lot when we're both home for breaks), we decided to take a back road to get home. It's a road we use a lot when we're heading to Wally World or Pizza Hut, both of which are located on the east side of town. It passes by a Berean church, a few residential areas, the Catholic cemetery, and a retirement home, and we often find ourselves cursing the frustrating but understandable 30 mph signs; it's so easy to cruise on the stretch at 45 without realizing. The stretch allows us to avoid turning onto the highway at a high traffic area. 

"So I have a song to play for you," Heidi said, scrolling through the lists of songs on her iPod. She tapped her finger on the screen and set the player on the dashboard, reaching to adjust the volume. "I don't know if you've heard this before or not."

"Oh really?" I asked, tilting my head. As soon as I heard the opening notes, I glanced over at her and back to the road in front of me. It was Gotye's "Somebody That I Used To Know", a song I'd played over and over since she had introduced it to me weeks ago. "I have heard this, actually. Remember? You posted it on my wall?" 

"Oh yeah," she said, and cracked a joke (at that point we were in a pretty silly mood). 

We passed the cemetery and turned onto the second leg of the route, a hilly stretch that passes by the church and the retirement facility. The closer we got to the church and North Street, though, we started to notice something in the roadway. 

"What is happening?" Heidi said, in her usual tone of a statement rather than a question. "What is that? Is that a dog? A person crouched over?" 

"I don't know," I said, slowing down and coming to a complete stop about ten feet away. It was a brown and white dog, and it was picking and pulling at a section of roadkill that had been sitting in our lane. "Ugh, that's so gross. What should I do?" I checked the mirrors to see if there was someone behind me, and then ahead to see if there was anyone coming from the opposite direction. There was no one. 

"Honk at it," Heidi said. 

I did. The first time, the dog didn't do anything. I waited a few seconds for it to move, and then hit the horn once more. The dog just looked up at us, a string reaching from its mouth to the half of roadkill it was picking at that was now hanging an inch from the ground.*

We yelled in disgust, shielding our eyes. Heidi laughed a little. "Oh my God! Is this really happening right now?!" she said. 

"Why did you do that?" I yelled at the windshield in direction of the dog, who had ducked his head and resumed its picking. I honked again, two sharp blasts, hoping that it would scare the dog into moving off the road. It didn't.

"Heather, you have to move around it," Heidi said. 

"No! The last time something like this happened, the raccoon got spooked at the last second and ran directly into the line of my tires. I don't want to risk hitting the dog if we try to move around it." 

"Seriously?" Heidi sounded more annoyed at the situation than at my story. She looked back at the dog. "MOVE!" she yelled. The dog looked up at us again, disinterested. 

"What do I do?!" I thought about the possibilities we had. I could reverse down the road a bit, turn into the church parking lot, and go back to the highway, turn right, and head back past Lakeview and Hardees to head home. That was a lot of work, but I did not want to hit the dog--I would never get over it. "Heidi, get out and see if you can shoo it off the road and I'll move the car and then you can get back in..."

"No. Heather, we have to move. You're going to have to move around it--"

"I don't want to!"

"It'll be fine. I don't think it's going anywhere. Just go slowly." 

I sighed and then crept forward keeping an eye on the dog and the road ahead. "Watch the dog," I said, turning the wheel to the left a little to change over into the other lane. "Keep an eye on it."

"I know. I'm watching. Just go slowly," she said. 

I watched the dog from the corner of my eye as we moved around him, scared that it would get spooked and run in front of my car. I remembered Dad telling me about the dog he'd had as a kid that got hit by a snowblower, and the kid who'd hit it coming to the door in tears to let him and my uncles know. 

But as we creeped along beside it, the dog picked up his meal in his mouth, and casually walked around the back of the car safely to the side of the road. 

"Really?" Heidi cried. "Did you seriously just do that, dog? Just walk away?" 

"Did that seriously just happen? Like, how does that even happen?" But I was relieved.

This morning when we were heading back on the same route coming back from Wal-Mart (Mom asked us to pick up some drinking water), Heidi looked over at me from the driver's seat. "Hey. Remember that one time?" 

"That we saw that dog? Yes. I do." I said. 

*I apologize for how graphic this is. It was disgusting. I felt like I was in a movie. 

Birthday

On my ninth birthday, I was sick*. I insisted on going to school, though, because I had a birthday party after school that day, and I didn't want to cancel it. (Also, I've always hated missing school.) There was also a magic show at school that day, and I got called up to help perform a magic trick that involved pulling out a classmate's underwear. When the magician asked what my name was, I more or less croaked it because I was slowly losing my voice.

Yesterday was my 24th birthday. My parents came into town on Friday night and took me out to dinner. They brought me waffles, spaghetti, and cheesecake. I spent the majority of yesterday running errands or drawing (more of the former, however--I headed out to do errands late morning). My original plan for the weekend was to go home to spend some time with my mom and dad, but since I hadn't had the chance to get some serious drawing done, I needed the weekend to work. I was pretty bummed yesterday, to be honest. I had to remind myself that as far as birthdays go, it wasn't bad at all. I just didn't want to be stressed, and I was.

But it was a good day. I had the chance to see my parents the night before (they gave me a Coca-Cola cookbook, which I'm pretty sure is one of the greatest things in the universe, along with a few other things including a book about the Harry Potter movies and the soundtrack to the broadway cast soundtrack to How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying). I bought myself the Monster Ball DVD and put it on when I was drawing. I browsed the Dusty Bookshelf and bought three books with some of the birthday money I got from my parents. My sister called me to sing me 'happy birthday'.

And I spent the evening of my 24th birthday with friends at the 6th Annual K-State Drag Show. I didn't have to think about schoolwork or anything related to it. I just lost myself in the music and each amazing performance. I knew the moment when a mother sitting near the front brought her one year old up to the edge of the stage, and the toddler held out a dollar bill to the performer, that this is what would become part of making this birthday unique. The birthday I drew and went to my first drag show.

Happy February.

The cake my roommate Alisha made for me for my birthday. She had me blow out the candles on Friday afternoon before my parents came. They were arranged in the shape of a lightning bolt. 'Twas awesome.

*I think it was my ninth birthday. I was in second grade.

The Terrible Thursdays

My sister, Heidi, has received multiple texts and phone calls from me this week as things have happened, both good and bad. So earlier today, she posted this video, "Somebody That I Used To Know (feat. Kimbra)" by Gotye, on my wall as a break from painting flowers.* 

And I was moved. It was the exact thing I needed to hear, and so beautiful. It's not just creative inspiration (for lack of a less possibly cliche way to say it), but also an example of how wonderful Heidi is. She always knows the right thing to say, the perfect advice to give, the right song to hear when your day is the worst of all. I am so very blessed to have the best sister in the world.** I don't know how I'd be able to get through each day without her. She's my best friend. 

*The subject of my rendering project for my illustration class.

The Days Before Halloween: Photo Album

My sister came to visit this weekend. Along with celebrating her birthday, we also went to see Rocky Horror at the Union.

And thus, the photo-album.

Most of the pictures I took at the pre-show turned out really blurry. No matter, however. Just being there, dancing the Time Warp and getting showered in flying toast and rice is enough. It is, after all, nothing without the audience participation. 

Our costumes for the 'Ville:

Such a great weekend. I need more weekends like it. They're good for the soul. 

Lucy in the Sky With Diamonds

My earliest memory of my sister, Heidi, involves a little orange jumpsuit with a matching bib decorated with a smiling, glowing pumpkin. She was just days old, and Mom had dressed her up as a pumpkin baby. This first memory is of Mom putting her into the car seat after church; perhaps Halloween was on a Sunday that year? I was too young. I cannot remember much beyond that; I was two and a half when she was born, and so I feel very lucky to remember that kind of a detail alone.

Heidi is a Halloween baby. She wasn't born on Halloween, though: just a few days before. Last weekend, when she and I were watching Hocus Pocus, one of her favorite movies, we talked about how this made sense with her obsession with horror movies. She's been trying to get me to watch every scary movie under the sun in the last few months especially.

But I digress.

Today is Heidi's 21st birthday. I've been very emotional the last few days thinking about it. It's not a bad thing; I've just been thinking a lot about everything that we've been through together. She's my best friend. We didn't get along too well as kids--well, we did, but we fought a lot, as siblings are prone to do--but then something clicked and we slowly became best friends. She is the most wonderful, kindhearted people I know, and I'm so proud to call her my sister.

One of Heidi's favorite songs when she was little was "Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds." There is a line within the song that goes: "Suddenly someone is there at the turnstile/The girl with kaleidoscope eyes." She latched onto this idea of a 'turnstile' despite her misunderstanding of what it actually was: she named the final turn before the highway that leads directly into our hometown on our way back from visiting family in Nebraska the 'turnstile'. I remember her getting it confused, however. She called it "the turndial."


She and Dad would mention on it almost every time. "It's the turndial! It's the turndial!" she would cry, if Dad hadn't brought it up first. 


I think she is Lucy. It may be odd to say so, it may be cliche, but I don't care, because I feel she really is, in so many ways. It was like the song is written for her, because it captures her essence so purely. Her creativity, her capacity to love, her steadfastness, and every beautiful fiber of her being. Looking on it now, I believe that whole-heartedly. The girl with kaleidoscope eyes, indeed. 


And so, Heidi, you have reached another turndial. Happy, happy 21st birthday, Hootie! I love you. <3

Home Again

My weekends at home are much too short, and I have noticed each visit seems to get shorter and shorter.

Anyway.

Fall is my favorite season. There is a small maple tree in the yard, and one of the best things about fall is watching its leaves turn from green to yellow and orange to a rich red-orange. I missed the turning this year; most of the leaves have fallen from the branches, and the red-orange on most of the remaining leaves has faded to a gorgeous burnt orange color.

I missed homecoming for the first time in years this year, and I can't decide whether I'm upset or not. At the moment, it's an ache that I can't really put my finger on. I love homecoming; it was and will forever be part of my favorite memories of growing up in my hometown.

Heidi's birthday is this coming week, so my family and I have been having a sort of mini-celebration for her. She's been home since last Monday for her fall break. After the having survived this horrible week, I wish I'd been able to have my fall break at the same time.

As is the tradition for being home, we've watched a Harry Potter movie (two this time around, both Prisoner of Azkaban and Order of the Phoenix on Heidi's request as she is the Birthday Girl). Heidi and I went to see the Footloose remake last night at the Astro 3, and despite the fact that there was a country remake of the title song during the last scene of the movie, we were both pleased and genuinely entertained. It was very good, and I'd definitely see it again.

After the movie, Heidi and I went cruising to talk and listen to music. Conversation is a beautiful thing, and those I have with Heidi are some of my most treasured.

I'm not looking forward to having to return to the Little Apple tomorrow; not that I hate it, because I don't. I just need more time here. I haven't been home much since the beginning of the year. In the last 24 hours alone, I've felt more calm, laughed more genuinely, and had more of a focus on life than I've had in ages. Thanksgiving break cannot come soon enough.

More Star Wars Goodness

Heidi sent me a link to this amazing thing that happened in conjunction with the release of Star Wars on Blu-ray. Severe geeking out ensued (and not just because it took place in London, which in itself is enough to make me all warm and fuzzy inside). Be sure to keep an eye out for Boba Fett and R2. Because, you know, they're awesome. 

There is a very special place in my heart that is reserved for Star Wars. It's one of the first things I fell passionately in love with. 

How My Weekend Went*

On Saturday I woke up at 4:45am with an excruciating pain on my right side. At first I thought it would pass (like a brief, random stomach pain), and so I took some Motrin and tried going to the bathroom. Two hours and many attempts to go to the bathroom later, I was still in pain, and it felt like it was spreading.

My first thought (and dreaded fear) was that it was appendicitis. I looked it up on the internet--I can never remember what side the appendix is on--and my fear intensified as I read each symptom. I kept thinking of that episode of Sister, Sister where Tia and Tamera both wake up in the middle of the night with intense pains and thus are carted off to the hospital, where they both have their appendixes removed and fight the temptation to look up their birth parents.

I finally went down to wake Emma up at 6:30, when I was convinced I was going to die if I didn't get looked at. I had to knock twice before she came to the door, bleary-eyed and clearly not completely awake.

"Can you take me the E.R.?" I asked. Pippin, Emma's cat, slipped past her feet and ran into the nearby bathroom. He jumped up on the seat and started drinking out of the toilet. "I have a huge pain in my side and I don't know if it's appendicitis and I'd rather go in and find out for sure rather than wait and possibly have it get worse."

"Where is the pain?" Emma asked as she rubbed her eyes, her brow furrowed.

I told her that it had started somewhere in the back right, and had moved around the side of my torso and was making its way down. "I'm so sorry to wake you, but I am really worried, and in pain, and I'm sorry to ask you to do this, but..."

Emma didn't say anything, and I started to worry that she was going to say no. I stood there for a few minutes, unsure what to say, and then ran back upstairs. I pulled on some semblance of clothes, grabbed my purse and all necessary accoutrements and tried going to the bathroom once more to no avail. When I came out, Emma was waiting in the threshold dividing the kitchen and the dining room, her purse over her shoulder and still bleary-eyed.

"I'll be in the waiting room," Emma told me once we had arrived at the hospital and I was giving them my information. I told the man behind the desk about my situation, and he gave me an armband and directed me to talk to a nurse in a room just off the main entryway.

Finally, I ended up in an examination room. They took the samples they needed for tests. The woman who took a blood sample was really nice. She had beautiful dark hair that had been braided and curled, and she asked me about my New Moon shirt. We talked briefly about the Twilight movies, and I told her that the shirt was my pajama top and that I was deathly afraid of needles and that I was sorry if I reacted immaturely. Another nurse hooked me up to an IV, informing me that the medicine might make me a little nauseous and drowsy, and to be aware. The doctor came in to talk with me; she said my symptoms fit that of a kidney stone. I had a CAT scan, and was brought back to the examination room.

As I waited, I sang "Teenage Dream" under my breath to distract myself from the needle that was in my arm and the strange feeling in response to the medicine.

The doctor came in about ten minutes later to let me know that the tests had confirmed that I had a kidney stone. Needless to say, I was relieved. As long as it wasn't appendicitis I was happy. She gave me a prescription, and I was released shortly after 8:45.

Emma had fallen asleep in a little ball--she's a hobbit--on two waiting room chairs that she had pushed together. I poked her to wake her up and we left to pick up my meds on the way home. I called my parents as I was waiting for the prescription to be filled to let them know what happened. I started the conversation with "Don't freak out, but I was in the E.R."--which will always cause some sort of freak-out, regardless of the reason for which you were in the E.R.

I can't swallow pills. It's a psychological thing and I know it's immature, but I can't help it; if I know the pill is in my mouth I can't force myself to swallow it for fear that I am going to choke. The pills I was told to take could be crushed and put into food. I bought a pill-crusher and it has been a bit of a hassle to crush them up and take them with applesauce, but at least I'm taking them. As of today, I have been able to successfully swallow the pill in two pieces. Crushing it to a powder makes it taste awful; the least amount of powder left over, the more the applesauce remains tasting like applesauce.

I spent the majority of Saturday sleeping. I threw up twice, as it's imperative to take the pills with food, which didn't register then in my medicated mind. I ate soup and crackers on Sunday, hoping that I wouldn't throw up again.

Since Sunday, I've been feeling progressively more like my normal self. Today has been the best, I think; I haven't felt dizzy and though I'm still tired, I feel much better. I passed the kidney stone on Sunday, and have been working through the rest of my medication. I was behind on homework from not being able to do any on Saturday, and stayed up late on Sunday night to try to catch up.

Monday was probably the worst day post-stone. I was tired from the limited amount of sleep the night before, and with the combined side-effect of fatigue from the medication and two work shifts, I felt miserable. I sent a text to my sister.

Me: My meds make me drowsy...
Heidi: That sucks. Is it for your kidney stone? Also can I name your kidney stone?
Me: HAHAHAHAHA Yes. And yes, you may.
Heidi (later): Your kidney stone should be named Iago. Either that or it should be named Bartholomue (sp?)
Me: I like Bartholemew. (sp?)
Heidi: Hee hee. Bartholomew(sp?) it is. :)

This conversation sent me into a fit of giggles for the rest of the day. It isn't the first time we've named our ailments, and I don't think it'll be the last. Oh the cleverness of us.

*I'm sorry if it's borderline TMI; I tried to keep the details as limited as possible.

Little Bits of Happiness

This week flew by much too quickly, leaving me thinking that today was Saturday and not Friday. My last year of undergrad starts in about two days, and with everything that I've been thinking about--so much thinking--in addition to everything that has happened in the last few months, I'm starting to feel a pressure building within my chest. I have this crazy feeling that I'm forgetting something important; my dreams have started reflecting this and other various school-related insecurities. This is how it usually starts.

And so, to quell the stress that is sure to set in, I'm making an extended pick-me-up list. I am determined to avoid what happened last year when I nearly lost my mind with everything that happened in and out of school. It's one attempt to keep my sanity, assuming things will be just as crazy. Below is the beginning of this list. I'll add to it as the year wears on.


1. Reading. Lots and lots of it, especially considering I've only had the chance to read a book and a half this summer.

2. "Uncharted" by Sara Bareilles. When I was pouring my heart out to my sister one night over the phone a few months ago, she suggested I listen to this song in hopes that I would find some sort of creative inspiration/comfort from everything that was going on. Since then it's been my go-to song for when things seem beyond overwhelming.

3. The Literary Snob. Indescribable beauty in so many respects. LOVE.

4. Drawing. Always.

5. Kurt doing "Single Ladies" in the "Preggers" episode of Glee. I will never, ever tire of it. (Sidenote: As good as the Glee 3D movie was, I was severely disappointed that "Single Ladies" didn't make the cut. Alas.)

6. The "Laryngitis" episode of Glee. It is my favorite episode from Season 1. Few words can accurately explain my adoration for this episode. It is incredible.

7. Any news concerning The Perks of Being a Wallflower, Struck By Lightning, and The Hunger Games. All three are pretty much guaranteed to be amazing.

8. Waiting patiently for The Woman In Black. I'm not much for scary movies, but I will definitely be there to see this one.

9. Pottermore. I'm still waiting for my Welcome email. It will be worth the wait.

10. Harry Potter. As one last hurrah of summer before Monday, I'm going to see Deathly Hallows Part 2 again tomorrow night. A perfect end to an imperfect summer vacation.

11. Earl Grey tea. I am fairly sure we were made for one another.

Anecdote #1

Long ago, my parents owned two station wagons, one a pale gold, one a grayish-silver. They replaced the gold one with a red Ford Topaz when I was two or three years old--rumor has it that I picked out the Topaz and proceeded to call it "Strawberry Fields Forever"--but they kept the gray station wagon for a little longer before replacing it as well.

The back of the station wagon had an extra set of seats that folded out; when the door that hid them was closed, it was a flat space for loading whatever needed to be transported. 

I remember asking my parents if Heidi and I could ride back there, and most of the time, they let us. The seats faced out the back window so as we were driving around, Heidi and I were able to see everything behind us. 

My memories of riding in that car are very few as we were really young when my parents finally replaced it with a newer model. I do remember pretending that we were "driving" from the back, being silly. I remember other little things like eating Hershey's chocolate bars with Heidi, eating Twizzlers with Stephanie, my best friend in second grade. 

I had forgotten about the car until the other day when I was at work. In the grand scheme of things, it may not be that important, but I knew I needed to write it down, somewhere, so I would not forget it. 

Once again, the genius of Louise Rennison

Another site I love, Bookshelves of Doom, has posted a link to the first chapter of Withering Tights on the Harper Teen website. EXCITEMENT.

One of these days I should tell you all about my devotion to the Georgia Nicholson series (and how my sister and I are some of the biggest fans in the Midwest, probably). And how excited I am that Louise Rennison is continuing to publish.

I haven't yet read this chapter, but rest assured that by the end of the week, I will have. Most definitely. It's going to be awesome.

School Supplies and "You've Got Mail"

Quotage:

Don't you love New York in the fall? Makes me want to buy school supplies. I would send you a bouquet of newly-sharpened pencils if I knew your name and address. (from the beginning of You've Got Mail)

For my 21st birthday, I received precisely two gifts from my sister (or, at least, I think it was just two; I could be forgetting one). One was a fantasy-themed trashy romance novel (of which I have not gotten past page two to this day, and my 21st was a considerable time ago), in response to an ongoing inside joke we have. The other was a beautiful bouquet of newly-sharpened pencils. And it was one of the best gifts I've ever been given.

I adore You've Got Mail. It was released when I was in elementary school, and Mom fell in love with it, and like dominoes, my sister and I fell for it too. I remember standing in line for lunch one day, talking to Jeremy, a classmate, who had started talking about something related to The Godfather. After he was done talking, I looked at him and said, without a trace of silliness, "What is it with men and 'The Godfather'?" That's what the movie meant to me.

As the years have gone on, I've grown to appreciate it for more and very different reasons. It's not just that I can understand and fully appreciate the 'adultishness' of it now, but what understanding of it I had transcended itself naturally as I grew. The movie was put out at a time when the internet was just beginning to take hold. There's Frank, with his three typewriters, who is yet distrustful of computers and what they have to offer. The common form of social networking was strictly chat rooms and email. The depiction of New York City is lovely; whenever I get to visit NYC, I hope it to be as magical and bustling as what I've watched over and over on screen. And I have to visit it in the fall. That is a must--at least for the first time, anyway.

The moments of beauty that one might miss, like Kathleen talking about twirling, the butterfly on the subway, the emotion and the honesty of each of the exchanged emails, the arrangement of Joe's family, Joe's time spent in a broken elevator, the shot of Kathleen preparing to go to the mattresses, the caviar garnish, twinkle-lights, the music...it almost comes to a point where there are so many things with which I'm overcome with adoration that I lose my words.

And then there's the bookishness of it all. References to Betsy and Tacy, Ballet Shoes, and Pride and Prejudice...and don't even get me started on The Shop Around the Corner.

My personal bouquet of newly-sharpened pencils currently sits on my desk under my bulletin board. As pictured above, it's framed by two illustrations Heidi gave me from her sketchbook and the Macbeth finger puppets I bought in Stratford-Upon-Avon. The gift itself may seem strange to some people, and I get that: who are you to just sharpen pencils and never use them? That's such a waste.

It's something deeper than that, though. It's the magic of Kathleen's and Joe's relationship, the way it's constructed, the purity of it, the fact that words themselves are the energy driving their lives, both literally and figuratively. The simple things, the beauty of the idea. The creation from something so everyday. Little things that tie people together, whether it be a story of a butterfly on the subway, or the daily endeavors of one Brinkley.

But also, and most importantly, the gift surpasses the meaning the movie has for me. I look at it daily and think of my sister: our shared love for the movie, our mutual adoration for the idea of a bouquet made entirely of school supplies. Our childhood and the memories which we share and differ. Sisterly love and understanding. A bond. In a way, she gave me a piece of us, as cliche as that sounds. That bouquet will always represent that for me. And it will always be just in sight, the first thing I see in the morning, the last thing I see before I sleep.

"Simon's Cat"

Heidi and I are both cat freaks. We grew up with cats in the house, and as soon as I have the power to, I will have a cat living with me. It's very important to both of us.

Soon after discovering the Sunday Funnies, both of us fell in love with the Garfield comic strip because it was one of the funniest things we'd ever seen and it featured a snarky cat who did as he pleased (and whose favorite food was lasagna). So when Heidi showed this to me, years later, I went kind of nuts. Simple, but highly effective. My favorite part is when the cat points at the fly and meows.

The best part? This is exactly what Naomi, my cat back home, does. Hilarious. Thank you, guy who makes "Simon's Cat". I needed this in my life.