Flawed

This last weekend was the annual Fall Conference for the League of Utah Writers. I am pleased to say that things worked out well. Now my job really begins. I am really nervous, but I think I have a good start. I just need to keep up the momentum.

I was listening to the soundtrack of THE PHANTOM OF THE OPERA at work today and it reminded me of some experiences I had in school. When I was in elementary I had some music teachers that I didn't always agree with. One teacher was telling us about the different instruments. When she got to flute she told us that it was part of the brass family. I raised my hand and tried to politely explain that I thought the flute was a woodwind. She said no. I said my older sister played the flute and I was pretty sure it was a woodwind. She changed the subject.

The second experience I remembered was when I was in fifth or sixth grade. We had some guests come to talk about operas. I remember raising my hand and asking about THE PHANTOM OF THE OPERA. They told me it wasn't an opera because the person who played Christine could never sing the whole range. That whenever they played the songs the highest notes were pre-recorded. They then went on to talk about THE MAGIC FLUTE. I was miffed, but didn't say anything. Now that I am older and look back on the situation I realize their logic was more flawed than I realized. I know THE PHANTOM OF THE OPERA isn't an opera, it is a musical. But the reason they gave was stupid. If someone can sing the Queen of Night Aria from THE MAGIC FLUTE, they can sing the part of Christine.

The Queen of Night Aria

It's a Small World

Last week I got a new job. I am now working at the local elementary as an aide. I have been there a few days and I love it. There is something satisfying about being around little kids who are happy over small victories. So when I was interviewing for the position I was really nervous. I sat down at the end of a table and there were five other people in the room. They all went around and introduced themselves. One name sounded familiar but I was so nervous I was just trying not to forget my own name.

Once the interview was over the lady across from me asked if I went to Burton Elementary. I was shocked and said I had. She laughed and asked what my last name was. When I told her she excitedly told the others that I was in her first class. At that point I remembered where I had heard the familiar name. She was my third grade teacher. It was a lot of fun to catch up with her. Because of this teacher I went to a special satellite school and ended up skipping a grade and graduating from college 6 days before my 21 birthday. I can't even image what my life would have been like if I didn't have this teacher.

Working with children frightens me but at the same time, I know that this job will be more rewarding than any of the other jobs I've had before. I also know that it might be the most emotionally difficult job that I've ever done. I guess this is just another way that maybe I will be a little more prepared for having children in the home. I don't think I will ever be completely prepared, but I can hope.

Mad Sewing Skills

With the contest over, I have been working on our costumes. Last year I started the costumes the first weekend in October. I am pleased with how they turned out, but I was really stressed. I always felt like I could have done better, especially on mine. This year I started working on Moose’s costume in August. At this point the majority of his costume is made; I just have to add the trimmings. Mine isn’t as close, but I am more than 50% done, including my prop.

So this year has been a good indication that if I plan early, our costumes turn out better and I don’t pay through the nose for the fabric. Keeping that in mind, and due to the fact that we have really enjoyed planning this year, we have started a list of characters we can try. Some of them are far beyond what we are capable of, but it is nice to think that my sewing skills are improving enough that I would be able to try.

When I was in elementary, my mother signed me up for sewing lessons. I enjoyed it for the most part. I stuck with it for four years. I made some fun and cute things but I never enjoyed making clothes. I could just never get them to fit comfortably. I have avoided making clothes for years. The occasional skirt was as far as I breached into the “fashion” side of sewing. In this costume alone, I would say that my understanding of clothes has greatly increased. And next year, I will be teaching Moose how to sew. In return he is going to teach me how to create props out of fiberglass.

Fortune Teller

I don’t think I’ve told this story before. When I was younger I had a difficult time controlling my temper. My older siblings knew this and loved to push my buttons. I was always trying to be better than they were at something. There came a point when I would go into the library and just pull books off the shelf that had interesting covers. I wanted something that they hadn’t read before. I found an interesting book and delved right in. I was almost done with it a few days later when my older sister saw me.

“I know how that one ends.”
“No you don’t.”
“Yes I do. You just didn’t see me read it. The bad guy floods the world and everyone dies.”
“Go away.”

When I finished the book later that night I approached my sister.

“I finished the book.”
“And how did it end?”
“The world was flooded.”
“You should know by now not to doubt the awesomeness of your older sister.”
“Grrr.”

This happened back when I was in Jr. High. A few years ago I went to the World Fantasy Convention. I met the author of the book. I gathered up my courage and went to talk to him. When finished explaining the situation he paused.

“You were reading X book?”

I nodded.

He laughed.

Summer Employment Part 3

My brother made the comment that I had said I was going to write about some of my summer employment jobs and only had two posts. So this is another post about my job at the amusement park.

One of the rides I ran was the child bumper cars. Unlike the adult bumper cars that have a pedal for power, the child bumper cars always move. As long as the child knows how to steer the car then they can cruise around the floor. The problem came when the kid didn't understand how the steering wheel worked. As the ride operator we had to keep our foot on a pedal to keep the ride going. Kids would drive their cars into a corner and then not figure out how to get out of it. The PA system rarely worked so we would stand there making hand gestures and yelling "Turn the wheel. If you want to move, turn the wheel." After parents came up and complained that their child needed another turn, without waiting in line, because their child's car didn't work. There were times I just wanted to tell them their child was too young and couldn't figure out the controls. Or maybe their kid was just to dense to figure it out.

The other event that often happened at the ride dealt with the children waiting in line. The line bordered the ride on two sides with a metal fence between the two. Some of the children really wanted to see how the ride was going and so stuck their head between the posts of the fence, and subsequently got stuck. I had to call the meds over on three different occasions for kids getting stuck. One kid screamed the whole time and his parents were mad at us. I was impressed that another kid who got stuck was pretty calm and his parents, also calm, told him not to do it again. When he finally got out he wasn't nearly as traumatized and he and his family laughed it off. I hope I am a parent that can keep everything in perspective.

December Birthdays

My birthday is in December, really close to Christmas. My husband's birthday is also in December. This is the reason why we were married in July. When I was growing up I had a mixed experience. My maternal Grandmother's birthday is also in December and when she was growing up her birthday was often forgotten or passed over. My mother made a huge effort to make sure I didn't have that experience. My siblings were forced to get me a birthday present with birthday wrapping paper and a Christmas present. They couldn't just hand me one gift and say "This is for your birthday and Christmas." Sometimes my siblings had to scramble because they had forgotten about my birthday but all-in-all my family is awesome when it comes to December birthdays. My friends on the other hand, not quite so much. I rarely saw a present or got a party from them. Now that I look back on it, I probably forgot a few birthdays and presents. I try not to forget birthdays now though it is a lot more difficult since my family is continually growing.

When I reached college I figured out the secret. If I want people to celebrate my birthday, I tell them. I have also learned another cool thing. There are a lot of sales that come around Christmas time. I get birthday money. This works out in my advantage. The other advantage is the majority of the population is in a good mood this time of year. My one word of advice is you never, ever, give someone a birthday gift and tell them it is also their Christmas present. If it is ridiculous in July why should it be okay in December?

Marching Band

This weekend my husband and I went to watch my little sister's marching band competition. Though they didn't take first, they did a great job and I loved the show. It brought back a lot of memories. Both my husband and I participated in marching band in high school. We went to different schools and had different experiences. His school had some amazing shows; I watched them when I went to my older sister's competition. He made fun of our uniforms. On Saturday we sat shocked at his band's amateur performance, and admired the new uniforms of my band. What a good relationship we have.

At the competition we sat next to some parents of a first year band member. They asked us what it was about band that enticed the kids. They said they would wake their son for early morning practice and he wouldn't ever complain and it wasn't only their kid. They couldn't believe that something like marching band could be so exciting to a bunch of teenagers. I don't think there is a way to explain how marching band really is without experiencing it. It hurt like the dickens some days, but I am so glad I was able to be part of something so amazing. Though we both had some unpleasant experiences, we don't regret participating in band.

Harry Potter Memories

This month sees the last of the Harry Potter movies in theaters. (Though it wouldn't surprise me if there was something else that came along to continue the saga in some form or another.) It is hard to believe that when the first book came out I was in elementary. My grandmother gave us the first book for Christmas the year it came out. We all loved it and convinced the other grandparents to bring us the second book from England before it was even available in the states. We were hooked early and telling all of our friends they needed to read it.

When the books came out we would argue over who got to read them first. With four kids (later on it was five) and two adults it was quite a battle. I remember going with my dad one year to buy it the day it came out and never letting it out of my hands. I read (I want to say it was the fourth book) in one day because I knew if I set it down, my two older siblings would magic it away and I would have to finish it after they were done.

When the DEATHLY HOLLOWS came out I was in college and because I wasn't living at home, was at the bottom of the borrowing list. Luckily one of my roommates purchased the book and the other three finished it relatively quickly. I was then able to take my time and savor it. The month it came out, was also the month I was married. The day of my wedding my roommates planned on doing my hair, I just had to make sure I was up at 6:00 showered and dried so they could curl and style it for me. Ever since I was a child, if I had something important the next day, I would often mishear my alarm. This was no different. I woke up at 3:00 thinking it was 6:00, showered and dried my hair. By that time I really was awake enough to see my alarm clock and realize I was a couple hours to early. When the alarm went off at 6:00 I realized that I was too awake to go back to bed a second time. I decided instead to use my time wisely. I read. That morning, as my roommates beautified me, I finished reading DEATHLY HOLLOWS.

Music

Growing up I listened to a lot of classical music. My mom controlled the radio at home (still does) and in the car it wasn’t until we learned how to drive until she relinquished the stereo to our begging. My dad, on the other hand, has always favored classic rock. My brothers and I have always enjoyed the music from movies, granted we prefer the orchestral music and not the rock “inspired by.” We could get away with playing it around the house because it could be considered classical. (I love classical music. My favorite is Scheherazade by Nikolai Rimsky-Korsakov and no I can’t spell it without the help of a dictionary.)

When I was in college my friend introduced me to a site that has remixed video game music. I was hooked, even though I hadn’t even heard of 80% of the games and had only played maybe 5%. I have hours of the songs downloaded to my computer and listen to it while I’m working since it can really get my emotions going.

At the convention my husband and I went to a couple of weeks ago, we went to a discussion on the history of Japanese RPGs. The presenter did an amazing job of present the facts, making it fascinating, and pronouncing all of the foreign names. What made me laugh was the fact throughout his discussion I knew many of the games he was talking about. While I haven’t played many (my parents believed in Game Boys and computers not the big consoles), I have watched other people play them, or listened to the music.

Family Bonding

A few weeks ago someone asked me why I married my husband. I told her it was because he didn't find me weird and always made me laugh. She thought I was joking. I wasn't. I love my husband very much and I am very glad he doesn't find me odd. Both of us like anime and while it is nothing to be ashamed of, the majority of the population can't understand why we'd rather spend the evening watching Japanese animation then the most recent episode of the hottest reality show or a sports game.

While my parents and sibling never enjoyed watching it as much as I do, they never comment against my interests. (I've gotten them to watch a few shows with me they really enjoy.) My husband had a different response when he was younger with some of his family members so he learned early not to mention it to other people.

This weekend my husband and I were able to spend some time with some of my husband's cousins. I don't know one of them as well since she has wonderful opportunities out of state and country. She mentioned that while she was in working in Japan she had some neat cultural experiences. We immediately bombarded her with specific questions that took her by surprise. We had a wonderful time talking about what we knew of Japanese culture. As we left that night, my husband and I talked about how much fun it was to have similar tastes with someone in his family.

Nightmares

For as long as I can remember, I’ve had vivid dreams. Most of the ones I still remember from childhood are the nightmares. Not surprising really because they are the ones that were more emotional. Sadly, they were normally the ones that were the most coherent as well. Here are just a few examples of the nightmares I’ve had over the years.

Age 4(ish)

My little brother was born the year I turned four. I really don’t remember anything because I was so young. But something’s always stayed with me and I’m pretty sure it came from around that time.

The nightmare was a little red riding hood story. Instead of the wolf trying to eat the little girl, it was trying to eat my baby brother. I made it through the story without him being eaten but as the dream continued the wolf would pop out of the most unexpected places (like a loaf of bread at a grocery store) and eat my brother. It kept happening, over and over.

Age 6-7(ish)

I had a dream that was like a video game. The game consisted of different levels I had to complete. If I died, I had to start back at the beginning. The levels consisted of things like a rock slide, or water to explore. One had a witch that when she looked at me, I died. It never failed that there was always a woman in the room before me that I could hear screaming. I got so good that I could more often than not, rescue the woman. The final level was a Jester who had a mask and a knife. He would put the mask on, disappear, and then stab me in the back. I would then start back at the beginning and have to do it all over again.

Age 12-14(ish)

When I was older, I had the Jester dream again. I was able to get through all of the levels. I even killed the Jester, although I don’t remember how. Once I killed the Jester, I was the one with the mask and the knife. I would see someone come in, put the mask on, appear behind them and then kill them. I had no control over my body and was forced to kill people over and over.

Last Week

I dreamed I was going to a writing conference and we would get to have the first chapter of our story looked over by a “professional” group. I was the last person to be critiqued. Before I handed out the copies of my story one person said: “This is either going to be the best thing we’ve seen or the absolute worst.” I handed out my copies with trepidation and started to read my story. The first paragraph made no sense whatsoever and it went downhill from there. When I woke up the next morning, my heart was beating so fast and I had to remind myself that it was only a dream. Amazing how nightmares change over time.

Ultra Light

My family likes to camp. I enjoy it when I actually sleep well (rare for me) and have yummy food to eat. When we camp as a family, the food is amazing. My mom is really good at planning meals and we eat great Dutch oven dinners.

When we go backpacking, it is another manner. I don’t know of anyone who is willing to carry a cast iron Dutch oven, the charcoal, or the specific food in a backpack. It just isn’t worth it.

There was a time in my dad’s life when a fifty pound backpack was acceptable, not so anymore. My dad is a great ultra light backpacker, now. He has everything down to a science and makes backpacking a pleasure, now. His meals are satisfying and tasty, now. It wasn’t always so.

I was the first test subject for his ultra light backpacking. He has since apologized and I bare no ill will, anymore. If you had asked me two days into the trip, I probably would have said something much different. I was miserable. But by golly, my backpack was just over twenty pounds, for a four day, three night trip.
I mentioned in the beginning that I rarely sleep well. This is even true in a bed, camping is even worse. In the backpacking escapade my dad decided that the extra weight of my mummy bag should be replaced with a fleece like sleeping bag. (Where we were going, this wouldn’t be a problem for most people.) I don’t really remember sleeping the first night, or the second night.

As for food, well. I never realized how picky of an eater I was. I didn’t use to like cream cheese on bagels. (That has since changed.) For breakfast we had bagels and strawberry cream cheese. I needed the protein so I munched it down. On the third day of hiking we stopped for lunch. While everyone else in our group pulled out something edible, my dad handed me the strawberry cream cheese and . . . the largest cucumber I’ve ever seen. I think it weighed in at a pound. He’d found the largest cucumber he could. My lunch consisted of only that cucumber with strawberry cream cheese. I didn’t even get halfway through the cucumber. (My dad didn’t finish it either.)

When we reached camp I was starving, and exhausted. While everyone else hiked around and looked at the beautiful scenery I slept. That night my dad was feeling bad about the awful lunch, and probably hungry himself, he pulled out the store bought backpacker’s meal. We feasted on teriyaki chicken and raspberry crumble.

The trip is long over but it is now the family joke that dad will feed people cucumber with strawberry cream cheese. His menu is the equivalent of a Dutch oven masterpiece without all the extra weight.

Break In

The summer before I started junior high we took a family trip to California. My little sister is enough younger that she was still in a car seat. The van fit our seven person family quite comfortably but with the car seat, it made it awkward at times. Someone was always stuck next to the car seat. My memory has me being the willing sacrifice to sit next to her. (But that could be completely wrong.)

On the ride home we stopped off at Hershey California. We bought some souvenirs, as was necessary when stopping at a chocolate factory. As with all our trips, we brought most our food along though we didn't normally eat in the car. When we had lunch, my little sister had a drink she kept as we continued. The drink ended up all over my lap and on the seat.

That night we camped at Yosemite. All of our food was stored in a bear box. The next morning we learned that our van was visited by a bear. It broke through the large side window, climbed into the back, opened up a plastic box, pried open a soap container, and licked the soap. (It may have also licked the seat where my sister spilled her drink. It was damp.) Luckily none of the seats had been damaged but there were paw prints and broken glass everywhere. We drove the rest of the way home with cardboard duct taped to the window. Very exciting indeed.

My older brother's theory on the broken window was Yogi Bear used the door to the van and the paparazzi broke the window trying to get a good picture.

Jumping can be Hazardous to Your Health

I’ve had stitches twice in my life (that weren’t because of a surgery). Both times could have been avoided but irresponsible jumping got the better of me.

When I was six(ish), I shared a room with my older sister. Our beds were parallel to one another. This meant the perfect opportunity to jump on and between the beds. I was told on several occasions not to jump on the bed but the enticement was too great. While my parents were distracted by numerous guests who were over for a get together one day, I decided to take the opportunity to indulge in a little bed jumping.

I was able to successfully jump between the two beds several times. It was thrilling. On one particular hearty jump, I went past the intended bed and fell against the closet door. The skinny doorknob connected nicely with the corner of my eyebrow. I don’t remember much but I do remembering seeing a lot of red and thinking it was a volcano. I stumbled to the backyard, probably trailing blood behind me, and found my parents. I was rushed to the hospital and had several stitches. My mother says there was blood between my toes from the ordeal.

When I was eleven I was playing with some friends. We were headed to the basement to play in the unfinished section. (It made for a great prison or cavern.) I headed down the stairs first. The other two chased each other and came charging down after me. Trying to be polite, I jumped the rest of the way down the stairs to get out of their way. Instead of landing on my feet, I found myself sitting at the bottom, my back resting against the stairs. I tipped my head forward, confused, and blood dripped onto my hands. My mother rushed me to the hospital while I giggled in the passenger seat. I got five stitches in the top of my head. (As my brother likes to joke, I have a bald spot. It is closer to the front and is often where my bangs start and not noticeable.)

What apparently happened was I hit the corner of the ceiling when I jumped. I actually dented it with my skull. I believe it’s fixed now but for years the family joked about putting a sign by the dent with my name on it.

The scar on my eyebrow faded for many years but is now prominent again. I’m not sure why it’s more visible but it makes me laugh. When I have children I have a good reason why people shouldn’t jump and the scars to prove it. Remember folks: Make sure to jump responsibly.

The Wave

My friends and I thought we were really smart. I was around nine and my friend had a trampoline. It was totally awesome, even though I was terrible at it. I am terrified of heights (or as Tiffany Aching says, “What she was afraid of, although she hadn't realized it up until this point, was depths.”). Jumping on a trampoline, even now, kind of scares me. However, back to the story. We played on the tramp a lot. It was our protection from the lava, it enabled us to fly, and it was our freedom.

While we played on the tramp we realized that there was something unusual when we jumped. There were times when one person would jump and someone who was standing elsewhere on the tramp would feel an ‘aftershock.’ We spent several summer days trying to figure out why. That is how we discovered, THE WAVE.

We had it all figured out. When one person jumped it sent a wave through the top, and would bounce the other person. That was why there were so many accidents dealing with trampolines. What do you think? Smart kids huh?

Calling the Bluff, Failing Miserably

My sister was often left in charge when our parents went on their dates. We got along really well as siblings go but there were times when my older siblings liked to pester one another. There was one joke that my sister liked to play on my brother. She would take swig of a liquid and then puff out her cheeks, pretending she still had the liquid in her mouth when in all actuality she had swallowed the liquid. When she had everyone’s attention she would squeeze her cheeks and let out a harmless puff of air.

Apparently my brother got tired of it so there was one evening, when the parents had left, that he decided he wasn’t going to fall for it. I think they may have been ‘arguing’ about something and my sister took a swig of milk. My brother laughed and when my sister puffed out her cheeks he smiled. With a great show, he pushed her cheeks with her fingers, and got a face full of milk. It was really quite entertaining for my younger brother and me.

Sunburns

It snowed this weekend which was nice. (If it is going to be cold I might as well have snow which looks pretty.) I have always preferred being cold rather than hot. It is much easier to just pile on another blanket or have a cup of hot chocolate. When it is too hot there are only so many articles of clothing I can remove. I also don’t do very well in the sun. I am rather fair skinned so going swimming to stay cool is just inviting pain from sunburns later on.

I get sunburned a lot. I was helping one of my friends move and wasn’t thinking about the weather. The sky was overcast and it drizzled on and off the whole time. The problem was the next day my face hurt because there was just enough sun to give me a sunburn. During the summer I normally put on sunscreen since I walk part of the way to work. I have a more difficult time remembering to put it on during the other seasons because I normally associate sunburns with warmth.

I wasn’t a very smart child. I knew I got sunburned and I would have to apply the sunscreen quite often if I wanted to even stand a chance of surviving. I finally gave up and told my mother that since sunscreen didn’t work I might as well not wear it. I remember quite a few summers of having my back burned so bad it would blister and peel. I am glad to say I have a lot more intelligence now.

Back towards the original topic of this week’s entry, I love the cold. It gives me an excuse to bundle up in long sleeves and trousers and since the sun sets so early in the winter I am basically sunburn free. Bring on the snow. (Just wait, in March I will retract that statement.)

Dumpster Diving

To all of those who have served, thank you. Happy Veterans Day.

For some reason when I was younger I always preferred playing sports with guys than playing with girls. I wasn’t good at sports but I figured it was better than sitting in the grass and talking. It also helped that I was always really tall for my age. When I was in first grade I was signed up for a city soccer league. There were two choices: play on a girl’s team or play on a co-ed team. I wanted to play with the boys as well so my parents signed me up for co-ed. I was the only girl on my team and I actually don’t remember there being any girls on any of the other teams. However, I was really young so don’t remember too well. My mom didn’t mind since we knew many of the boys on my team and we even knew the coach beforehand.

When I was in the satellite program the guys played football. I had no idea how to play but I liked it and I would just do what everyone else told me. I guess they didn’t mind having me around because, as I said earlier, I was taller than the rest of them.

In Jr. High I played basketball during lunch. There were a lot of girls who watched but I was the only one that played regularly. I think the big reason they let me play was because my friend and I were the ones who started it and we normally brought the ball. I wasn’t bad at shooting but I wasn’t very good at actually playing. I just had fun.

One day I brought my little brother’s basketball so we could play and as we played a new group of kids came. It was fine until they started playing keep away and I couldn’t get the ball. When the bell rang they threw it into the dumpster before they walked off. I knew I had to get the ball back since I had borrowed it from my brother and so when no one else would help me, I set my can of lemonade on the ground and jumped into the dumpster. Luckily everything was bagged. I quickly threw the ball out to a friend that had stayed to make sure that I was okay. As I was trying to get out something shoved me into the lip of the dumpster and I felt a liquid running down my hair. One of the guys thought it would be funny to close the lid on me and when that didn’t work they poured my lemonade on my head. I was thoroughly embarrassed, I had ripped my pants and my hair was a mess. I still don’t know why but I didn’t go home instead I went to my three other classes of the day. Odd really.

I won’t say that I am scarred in fact it is a funny story I use when I have to tell people about me.
“Yeah I went dumpster diving in Jr. High and blah, blah, blah.”

I think it is funny that two years after that someone recognized me as the girl in the dumpster. I was more famous than I thought.

Two Fast Grades

I am by no means a genius or a prodigy, I just do well in school. After I finished elementary in the satellite program, I attended Jr. High and was once again bored out of my mind. My mom felt bad that I was not challenged and so talked with several people to see what my options were. The conclusion was that I was to change grades. The only issue was I had already started seventh grade and my mom didn’t want me to be bored for the entire year. Once I finished the first semester of seventh grade I was moved into eighth grade.

In my church class I was at least six months younger than everyone else and everyone else was a grade above me which made changing grades nice. I remember the first day of class rather clearly. I went to my new English class, took a seat and watched a little worried as one of the guys from my church class came in and sat down across from me. He stared at me for a second and then came over and politely asked if I was in the right class. I told him yes and he gave a small smile and went back to his seat. I had a couple of other reactions like that but no one really seemed to care that I had changed grades.

My older brother always likes to tell people that I didn’t skip a grade I just did two really fast. Not bad to complete seventh and eighth in one year and move to ninth with everyone else the next year. I am very grateful that I was able to switch because it changed my life for the better. I know that it is somewhat cliché to say that “I wouldn’t be here now if I hadn’t done it.” The nice part is that I like where I am and I don’t have any regrets about changing.

The Yipiyuk

Since this is my blog I can tell the stories I want, the way I want. As my father always says, “If a story’s worth telling, it’s worth telling well.”

When I was growing up, going out to eat was a big treat for us. My dad received a bonus at work and decided that we should go to a nice restaurant. We had a really nice time together and when we were waiting getting ready to leave my older brother decided he wanted some ice to chew on. He grabbed the pitcher that had very little water but was half full of crushed iced. He picked it up and tipped it towards his glass.

My dad watched and said calmly. “You’re going to get all the ice.”

My brother replied. “I know.”

He tipped it further and all of the ice moved in one big mass out of the pitched and into the glass. The problem was there was too much ice. The column of ice encased the glass, filling it, and scattering across the table. He put the pitcher down quickly and we left the restaurant with the glass surrounded by ice on our table.

My older brother really liked to be spontaneous. The house we grew up in had a basement with a door at the top of the stairs that led into the kitchen. He would wait at the top of the stairs with the door almost closed looking through the crack at people’s socks. When he saw mine he would throw the door open and grab my ankles yelling, “The Yipiyuk will not let go.”

The Yipiyuk
By Shel Silverstein

In the swamplands long ago,
Where the weeds and mudglumps grow,
A Yipiyuk bit on my toe...
Exactly why I do not know.
I kicked and cried
And hollered “Oh”—
The Yipiyuk would not let go.
I whispered to him soft and low—
The Yipiyuk would not let go.
I shouted “Stop,” “Desist” and “Whoa”—
The Yipiyuk would not let go.
Yes, it was sixteen years ago,
The Yipiyuk still won’t let go.
The snow may fall,
The winds may blow—
The Yipiyuk will not let go.
The snow may melt,
The grass may grow—
The Yipiyuk will not let go.
I drag him ‘round each place I go.
This Yipiyuk that won’t let go.
And now my child at last you know
Exactly why I walk so slow.