Saturday, August 19, 2006

A Love Letter



Dear Provo,

It's been a while since I last saw you. It's okay if you didn't notice I was gone - you've had a lot going on these past few months. I'm sorry I missed the June blossoms, the July parades, and the August thunderstorms. I hope you know that I never want to be away from you for long.

Sometimes, you make my heart ache a little. At night, when I read books in my room in the house where I grew up, listening to the train whistle and the crickets and the wind in the trees and the silence, I think about everything we've experienced together. Remember the summer night games of hide-and-go-seek with the neighbor kids? Remember sun-warmed apricots, canyon marshmallow roasts, late-night conversations with best friends, snow on Christmas Eve, and my first kiss? (I know, I know, I should never have dated him, everyone told me he was bad news, but he was SO cute! Remember?)

One of the things I haven't thanked you for lately is your consistency. Every time I go to the grocery store, I see a friend from high school (or their mom), and get an update on their life. I get to see babies I never knew existed! I love that. Thank you.

Thank you, too, for reminding me that 80 degrees is not hot. When it's 80 degrees in California, I get cranky. I shouldn't. I know.

There are a few things I've been meaning to ask you about. For all your consistency, I've noticed you've recently made some changes, and I have to admit they take a little getting used to. I don't know how to feel about the new all-white temple. And what's up with the missionaries? Why do they all look like babies? I used to drive by the MTC and think they were cute. Now I want to protect them and give them motherly advice. And don't tell me I was that young when I went into the MTC. I so was not.

Well, this letter is getting long, and I know you don't have a lot of spare time, so I'll wrap it up. I love you, Provo. Please don't get too busy or change too much. Oh, one thing: do you think you could look into being just a little less dry? I love what you do for my hair, and I know you're a desert and everything, but I've used about a gallon of lotion today, and my skin is still itchy. If it's too much trouble, don't worry about it.

Thank you for everything!

Love,
Emmie

Monday, August 14, 2006

1,095 Days

This morning, to celebrate our three-year anniversary, Steve and I drove to Orem, and went to Village Inn. Steve had the blueberry blintzes, and the pancakes that came with my omelet. Wilson Phillips sang about holding on for one more day. The ladies in the neighboring booth talked about how Village Inn pie compares to other pie, and about that time that woman they know broke both her ankles.

A little over three years ago, Steve met my family for the first time. After the introductions, my youngest brother interviewed him, asking him every question he could think of while the rest of my family sat around and watched. Steve loved it, and they loved him. After the interview, Steve was understandably very hungry. I took him to the only place I knew was open - the destination of choice for post-play actors and late-night truckers.

At Village Inn, a little over three years ago, this is what Steve ate:

Large bowl of clam chowder
French dip sandwich
French fries
Chocolate shake
Belgian waffle
Half of my salad
Rootbeer

Afterwards, he "slept like a baby."

Earlier this week, we celebrated our anniversary in style with a lovely dinner and a fancy hotel, but I'm glad we went to Village Inn today. It wouldn't have felt right if we hadn't commemorated the actual day with sticky menus, eavesdropping, maple syrup, and Wilson Phillips.

Sunday, August 06, 2006

Television for Women

Late last night, there was a movie on Lifetime called "The People Next Door" (starring Faye Dunaway and Nicollette Sheridan).

The TV Guide description:

"The childless couple next door seem like nice people to a single mother, until they kidnap her three kids."

I guess after the kidnapping, they didn't seem so nice.