Update (on an update).

Even in the midst of these hard weeks and days there have been sweet moments, too. One was seeing some of my old Provo and Provo family, both of whom I love. I also feel closer to Spencer's family, which I'm sure he loves.

Zeke and Bing, pre-work.

Nana and Eden, post E getting a tad bit hurt.

My horse whisperer.

Myself.

Pretty. Grumpy.

Just pretty.

The one I love.

And again. (On the very day of loss.)

This field love day-of-days, the Autumnal Equinox was brought up, and someone in my family asked me how I used to celebrate it, when I used to celebrate it a lot. I explained our old rituals of jumping over flames, chanting/dancing, the one-at-a-time circle sharing of our favorite thing about the season, and/or a quote, poem, song, or drawing to go along with it. I also explained some of the more specialized rituals involving eating part of a nut and letting the other one go in the water, representing what we want to keep about our lives and what we want to change, or seeds planted with tiny letters written on them, of what we want to grow (which was actually more Spring), or folded paper boats with our secret wishes to be released into the same water (which was actually more Summer). After my telling, my family humored me in sharing their favorite part of fall. I was a tad bit surprised that they would be willing to do that for me, but they were, and it was quite touching--particularly on that holy, sad day. My favorite thing(s): family dinners with baked apple desserts, strolls through fields, feeding horses in those nearby fields, crisp, cool air, dreaming about more apple things (including fresh cider pressed from fresh fruit), and squash--all kinds of squash. (Plus reds and oranges and yellows if I lived somewhere where leaves could be those colors. And a special emphasis on temperatures below 100, wishing I lived somewhere where I could feel those temperatures.)

What are are a few of your favorite fall things?

I was a music video.

Or, more truthfully: I was in a music video. More truthfully still: I was in two music videos! Both belonging to the wonderful Drew Barlow Danburry.

The first was filmed at the old Meg Space, and shows me standing in a corner talking to Davis, and then sitting on a couch, talking to Jordan.



The second was not, and does not. Here I am mostly standing in a corner of the yard talking to Becca and Kyle, or pretending to learn how to play croquet from Kyle. (Which documented instances lead me to believe that I am often standing in corners talking.)



Drew's songs never get old. And because I am thinking about it, my favorite Drew memory is from the very week that I went on my mission. I had gone to my Oregon home for one month before coming back to Utah to enter the MTC. I was already set apart, which means that I was already expected to act like a missionary and do some missionary things. It also meant that I had to have another person with me at all times. My mom would act as that person for the few days of interim. My sister had called me sometime during our long drive across states, telling me that Drew was playing at Cafe Sol and that I should come. I wouldn't be able to go inside because missionaries don't go to concerts, but I did want to go outside and say hello to all of my friends. The question was: would my mom be willing to come with me? She was tired and we got in late, but the ultimate answer was yes. With some coaxing, yes. And I am completely grateful. So many people I loved were there. So many hugs from the girls. So many handshakes from the boys. (I remember Davis hugging my mom since he couldn't hug set-apart-me.) The one person I didn't get to see was Drew himself, because he was playing inside. My friend Kristina suggested that maybe he would play a church song so I could come in. I wasn't sure it would work, but she disappeared to test it out. Soon after, I heard my name over the microphone, calling for me to come inside. Kristina and Meg each held one of my hands as I went in. The room was full of hundreds of indie kids. Francesco (who was born this very day, some years ago) was one of the first people I recognized. In true Francesco fashion, he started clapping, and in true how-everyone-acts-around-Francesco fashion, the rest of the room followed suit. They were clapping for me, for a long time. These hundreds of kids. Some whom I knew, some whom I didn't. It felt like a dream. The best dream. Then, in the midst of this applause, I was escorted to the very front so I could shake Drew's hand. Once I got there, he played the following song, for me, on that most beautiful night.



I cannot thank him enough for that memory. This song is still sweet to me, and the times I get to hear it the most are when I'm Utah home, from miss Eden. I love her renditions too, because whenever she sings it, she prefaces it the same way: "This is a song my mom sings me to help me go to sleep at night." Way to go Eden's mom (and Eden). Way to go Drew. You are champions.

It's piggybank time!

This post is also about Eden, which may temporarily make my blog an aunty blog (not to be confused with a Mommy blog).

It is also about my sister Charity, who shares the privilege of being Eden's aunt. It is important to know that both Charity and Eden like to sing, and that they frequently sing to each other. It is also important to know that they are very good at this.* And that they make up their own songs (both the tune and the words), and that they sometimes communicate this way for half hours at a time, for whole days at a time. It is a remarkable thing to behold. During one such time, Charity was singing to Eden that she needed to eat, and Eden was singing her reply (i.e., her unwillingness to eat). Imagine if you will, a cute, catchy tune. Also keep in mind that at the time of this sing-songy conversation, Eden was 3ish.

C: It's eating time.

E: It's not time to eat, it's money time.

C: It's play time.

E: No, no, no. It's not time to play, it's money time.

(And so on. Always ending with Eden shaking her finger and singing that it was money time.)

Two years pass. Christmas passed. It is now. Charity (who loves the Oregon Ducks) got an Oregon Duck pillow pet for Christmas. Enter Eden (who has her own pillow pet).

E: I wish I could have that pillow pet.

C: You already have a pillow pet.

E: I'll switch you!

C: I don't want to switch. Santa gave it to me for my Christmas present. Don't you want me to have what Santa wanted to give me? (Thinking she would respect Santa.)

E: I'll give you money!

C: No.

E: Please, I'll give you money.

C: No. I don't want your money.

E: Please, I just really want that pillow pet.

I knew she was serious, purely by how serious she is about her money. It also inspired me to leave her the following note, with the majority of my non-European change.

Apparently she loved it. Apparently she could also read every word. But "money."

*At my granny's funeral, immediately following my aunt and cousin's lovely rendition of "I'll Fly Away," Eden whispered, "They sing beautiful just like I sing beautiful."

Love LA.

(AKA: the first of a flurry of belated blogging.)

Sometime in the summer, my lovely sister, Liahona, and her very precious daughter, Ede, drove S and I to our old home of Los Angeles. (We had driven our friend's car to Utah for her, and were semi-stuck.) Lia rescued us, in more than one way. Not only did she drive us the ten hours, she took our engagement pictures for us. The very day we got in. Pre-shower. Pre-unpacking. Pre-anything. We stopped by Spencer's house first, and walked down the street to the Disney Concert Hall, so he had the full gamut of what he could wear, but not I. How do I compete with a man in a tuxedo? :)

Thankfully for me, we took more photos the next day. Post shower. Post me seeing a pretty place in Beverly Hills, and asking if we could pull over. I am counting my lucky stars the answer was yes.

The last two are my favorite favorites. That Liahona, she is a champion.

Dear everyone,

I haven't written for awhile. I am sorry. I have been tired, and a little bit busy--attending book readings, crafting papers, preparing presentations, other general finishing of my term, playing nanny, meeting Danny Ainge, visiting New York, flying across the country, and eating pizza.

Of my fall semester the truest thing I can say is that it was hard. The second truest thing I can say is that it was good: I liked my classes, my program, and my classmates.

Now after boarding a plane, and being in far too many cities in one day, I am in Provo, and have been for a little while. I am currently sitting on a couch in my family's home, where there is a picture of me in a frame, in the entry way, and where a 3 year old girl runs down the stairs in the morning yelling my name.

Since my return, my sister Charity has called me Pocahontas, my niece Eden has called me Charity, I've read 3 1/2 books, watched 2 movies, seen a small handful of friends, failed to settle Catan, had numerous kitchen and living room dance parties with my sisters/niece, admired the lights at Temple Square (though I was cold and maybe hungry), remembered that the Broadway is my favorite movie theater in all of the US and that Ritter Sport Marzipan is my favorite candy in all of the world, watched more sports in a single night than I watched in an entire year (Go Cougs/Lakers!), passed my 3 year mark home from my mission, and delivered cookies/Christmas caroled with my family.

I can feel how good it is to be here.

Sincerely,

Rachel