Come out, Rapunzel!

I don't know when or how the tradition started, but every time someone in our family had a birthday, all the children would hide in my parent's bedroom while Mom and Dad lighted the candles on the cake.  Then my dad would call us out one by one, not by our given names, but by our princess names.

"Come out, Cinderella!"

And Kimmi would giggle and run out. (Kim was the obvious choice for Cinderella, due to her angelic nature and awesome floor scrubbing capabilities.)

"Come out, Sleeping Beauty!"

And Alison would giggle and run out.  (Alison was a good sleeper.)

"Come out, Snow White!"

And Kelly would giggle and run out.  (Kelly was the only one with dark hair.  And she is the fairest of them all.)

"Come out, Rapunzel!"

And I would giggle and run out.  (I had the longest hair.)

"Come out, Prince Charming!"

And Robert would puff out his chest and run out. (The only boy, what can you do?)

"Come out, Thumbelina!"

And Sarah would giggle and run out.  (Sarah was and is so petite.)

"Come out, Jasmine!"

And Ria would giggle and run out. (Maria got to pick her own princess.  She's obviously Dad's favorite.)

"Come out, Aladdin!"

And Morgan would giggle and run out.  (Morgan loved vests.  She would take her shirt off and run around all day just wearing a vest.)

The order pretty much always stayed the same, except if it was your birthday, then you were saved for last.  It might sound like one of the most ridiculous traditions that has ever stuck with a family, but to us it was the only thing that ever made a birthday complete.  There was nothing in the world that matched that mischievous feeling of hiding in the bedroom in pure child-like anticipation, waiting to hear your special name called, watching your siblings leave one by one until all the sudden you were the only one left.  You could hear the whispers and see the shadows flickering off the birthday candle light and just when you thought that maybe they had forgotten to call you...

"Come out, Rapunzel!"

And you would regally walk out with your birthday-princess head held high.  Your fellow royalty would start to sing as they elbowed each other for better positioning around the cake.  You would smile humbly and graciously wait until all three verses of Happy Birthday were complete, then fulfill your royal duties of blowing out the candles and letting them eat cake.  There are rare moments in my life that make me feel as honored or as loved as those Rapunzel moments.

We haven't done this tradition in probably over ten years.  I think I know what I'm going to ask for for my birthday this year.

Hyacinths

Last week I was having a particularly sad day and my sister took me to the Botanical Gardens downtown.  The plants and flowers did much to lift my heart, not to mention all the cute families out for walks and all the newly displayed Christmas decor.  It was a beautiful day in this incredible indian summer we've had.  The thing that did my heart the most good, was turning a corner in the gardens and finding this proverb on display:

This little proverb has saved my heart on many a days.  I first heard it when I worked at the BYU travel office.  My boss, and bestie, Mary would quote it to me as we spent 8 hour days answering angry phones and taping receipts to pieces of paper.  We decided to try and find as many hyacinths for our souls as possible to make each day better.  

This proverb is what made us decide to cut snowflakes in our down time to decorate the office instead of trying to study for an upcoming test.  It's what made me spend a little bit more money to buy Care Bear checks instead of the cheap boring ones.  It is what runs through my head when I talk myself into buying a cute pair of shoes instead of leaving the money in my bank account.  And it is always always what I say to myself as I buy hundreds of dollars worth of plane tickets to visit home or good friends or to see a new place in this beautiful world God has made for us.

Sometimes when I look back on my life, I feel like I've walked through fields and fields of hyacinths.  I am so blessed.  And very very happy.

Keep It Funny

Knock, knock.

Who's there?

Back pain.

Back pain who?

Lower back pain!  Isn't that funny?!

     I have read and discussed quite a bit of lower back pain information for the passed two weeks and no matter what the advice is, it always ends with: try to laugh.  Apparently, depression is the absolute worst thing you could do for back pain.  So over the last two weeks as I've laid on my back looking at the ceiling, or stood at my desk until my feet go numb, I've tried to be more sensitive to the humor all around me.  And boy, there is a lot.

For instance: 

~I've noticed how similar my movements have become to pregnant women, especially while getting in and out of cars.  My roommates take turns taking me on long slow walks around the neighborhood to try and help ease the pain.  I like to frequently assure them not to worry, that the baby is coming any day now.  I also like to let everyone know when the baby is kicking especially hard.  These jokes never get old.

~While on a back walk today, Kelly stepped in dog poo.  This is the third time she has stepped in dog poo in my presence in the last month.  Not to mention the time last month she also stepped on a dead bird.  Sometimes during my ceiling staring times, I like to ponder how many times she's stepped in something not in my presence and has failed to mention it to me.  I like to think it's at least twice.

~It is difficult to laugh and walk at the same time, it feels like your spine is a jackhammer slamming up and down against your body.  The consequential pain makes my laugh sound like a jackhammer.  I don't know if that's funny or the fact that no one has notice how weird my laugh sounds.  Which means...that's how my laugh usually sounds....

~I found this book online, which was a small miracle.  There were so many questions I had about back pain that I was just too shy to ask - I didn't dare.

~I developed a vicious rash up and down my back last week.  That was kind of funny.

~Owen Wilson is hilarious.  And Drillbit Taylor is by far the best movie he has ever made. (Drillbit: What's wrong with you guys? Boy: Well, he's fat, he's a dork, and I'm awesome. Drillbit: And by awesome you mean scared, skinny, and lonely.)

~Two of my roommates caught the Cold of Death this week.  The three of us laid around the house doped up on painkillers and cold medicine, unable to move.  It was entertaining.

~An abnormal amount of IB Prufen does a lot of humorous things to your digestive system.  It has kept me laughing all week.

~I think I might have caught the Cold of Death.  Which is funny when you think about trying to breathe when you can't prop yourself up.  And when you try to cough without moving your back.

I think this humor thing is really working, I can already tell that my back is on the mend.

A Poem: God's World

~Edna St. Vincent Millay, 1892