Salt Flats

The Bonneville Salt Flats are punctuation to Utah's mountainous landscape. God hit a hard return here, leaving nothing but blank space between paragraphs. It has so much nowhere and has such a vastness of empty, that the negative space itself begins to hold substance. It's justified as a destination.

We drove out there last weekend, to watch the sunset, see the stars and have what Camilla deemed "a post-apocalyptic picnic." Because the apocalypse would surely leave a landscape as desolate and otherworldly as this one. 

The longer I've lived in Utah, the more I've fallen in love with it. The diversity of landscapes never ceases to astonish me. Within a 200 mile radius of my front door there is red rock, salt flats, the dense forests and lakes of the high Uintas, there are hot springs, and sand dunes and peaks still dusted in snow.

It took us about two hours to get this place, splitting gas costs $9 each. We got to feel the strange coarse texture of salt under bare feet, and star-gazed under of one of the widest skies I've ever seen. I begin thinking back on what I allocate my time to. Two hours of netflix happens easily, two hours through the course of the day on my phone, two hours spent deciding what to wear for a date, two hours procrastinating going on a run.... Days spent in reoccurring patterns, so that tomorrow and today are so much the same that they easily become indistinguishable as yesterdays.

I took a pause there on the flats, took some space of mind. As dark settled, my friend Kyle reminded us that all the planets in the solar system lined up radius to radius still wouldn't bridge the gap from the Earth to the Moon. I'm humbled by that, and humbled at how inconsequential the size of this  plain of salt is in comparison to that distance. I'm humbled by how lengthy a single day can seem, and at the same time humbled by the brevity of a life.

First Snow

Em had never seen snow before, and so as we exited our Anthropology into a morning that was thick with the stuff, her eyes grew wide with a child-like amazement. I couldn't stop laughing. Raised in the Midwest, it's difficult for me to remember that harsh winters are not entirely part of the common human experience. I was reminded of the student who'd moved from Brazil in sixth grade and how he stood up in the middle of class and walked over to the window at first snow. He'd had that same look of awe on his face.

'You've never seen snow before?'

'Nope. Southern California isn't really the place for it' she replied, voice dripping in sarcasm.

'So, you've never gone sledding before?'

'Nope.'

'Or had a snowball fight?'

She shook her head

'And never built a snowman....' Now I was the one in shock...

The amazement in Em's eyes had been replaced with an expression that strongly communicated duh. But I was too caught up in how many activities we had to fit in this winter.

First Snowman! Built right then and there outside of Anthropology lecture.

Our attempt pales in comparison to this Michelangelic piece I saw in front of the Brittany apartments. 

Picnic

Summer smells like sunscreen, chlorine and bug spray and it tastes of cupcakes. M and I have been waiting all year to have a picnic, and we made these little beauties...

They ended up looking a lot better than they tasted. We had many struggles with the icing, including the moment when the tube of it exploded, got on G's foot and she tracked blood red foot prints all across M's kitchen.

 After our lovely picnic in the park (complete with a checkered picnic blanket), we had a bunch of 'I love the world' cupcakes left so we went on a super secret delivery mission. We left the cupcakes on our friend's doorsteps - the plates had personalized messages written on them too.

Everything in a Summer Day's work.

Over and Out.

A Walk??

"Hey, Katherine, this is Judith."

"No, duh, phones have had caller ID for years now. What's up?"

Uhhg... I sigh internally. I still introduce myself every time I make a phone call. Force of habit? From when I was like, eight? Whatever.

"Do you want to go on a walk?"

"A Walk??" Her voice rises, implying incredulity "What do you mean a Walk?? Where would we go?"

"I don't know, around. We could walk to Jeni's and get ice cream" The last part might have been a bribe.

"Isn't that, like, reeeeally far away?"

"Umm... yeah?"

"How far is it?"

"Like an hour - walking" It might have been a modest estimate.

"How about let's drive over to the parking lot behind it and we can walk from my car to Jeni's?"

"All the way through  the parking lot? Funny"

She giggles.

"How about walking in the mall? May and I were going to go tonight. We could walk there. You want me to pick you up too?" You could hear in her voice she was smiling.

Katherine. Note to self: you can't win over a fashionista.

Not even with ice cream. 

Like the Snow Melting

I am thrilled that it's finally Spring again. 

This season is intoxicating. I have lunch fifth period and I just went on a walk. I went straight out the big front doors and wandered the streets surrounding the high school for forty or so minutes before my Pavlovian sense of the impending bell brought me back.  

The flowers are blooming on the trees right now. And Ohio's warm humid air makes it possible to smell them without stopping to. The aroma hangs in the air, lingering on the tip of your tongue, so strong that it's a taste. 

As well as bringing flowers and severe senioritis, Spring also ushered in my birthday. I turned 18 this Sunday. I was still awake at our prom-after party, but very tired since I'd gotten up at 6 am on Saturday morning. Some girls from church and I ran CAP City Half-Marathon together. Several Chinese fire drills and one horror film after midnight, I finally got to bed after 23 hours straight of activity.

They say the effects of sleep deprivation are a little bit like being intoxicated. What better way to usher in adulthood than feeling incredibly hung-over?

Just Finished my 3rd Half! So that's one-and-a-half marathons? right?

Washington Crossing the Delaware - In Style (from Prom)

Katherine and I went to Spring Flea to celebrate my birthday today. It's an open air market which appeared for the weekend in a parking lot off Third Avenue. It had a Woodstock vibe with clothing retail out of hippie VW's. We bought cake pops there because they seemed festive (Unfortunately I couldn't fit 18 candles onto mine - not to say I didn't try).

And another less exciting mark of the season that AP exams begin. I have my first one starting tomorrow. My last AP tests I'll ever take. This spring which is full of so much freshness and beginnings, but it has a lot of endings too. Endings like the snow melting and the last of the Christmas lights reluctantly coming down. 

I'm leaving Ohio in about a month now, high school will be over and I'll be starting at BYU in the fall. 

Conversations with a Lab Partner

My lab partner told me he eats strawberry yogurt for breakfast every day. And when he gets a big chunk of juicy strawberry, that's when he can lean back in his chair and let out a sigh of relief. He can close his eyes and savor the redness of the flavor. Because that means it's going to be a good day. 

So today I asked him, did you get a whole strawberry this morning? How is today?

He just looked at me quizzically as he thought. Today, he said, they ran out of strawberry yogurt.

He ate blueberry one instead.

Steak and Shake

We went to Steak and Shake Saturday evening. There's something about the stark contrast of the shiny white and black tiles with the red light up letters that makes me feel so retro. We sat in our booths and everyone ate milkshakes as tall as their faces; like they'd ever heard of a calorie count before. Carefree. Reckless. Ice cream and maraschino cherries.

Saturday nights are like that. Sickly sweet.

Sophie and I sat at the long counter on the stools that swivel. And we just spun and spun and spun until we were all spun out.

"Hey soph, do you want to lend me a quarter?" I ask, gesturing to the line of gumball-esque machines next to the window. I feel like there should be a jukebox. But there isn't, so we just stumble over - world all topsy turvy from our twirling. We slide our quarters in and turn the knob.

It's surprisingly satisfying, the quick turn of the wrist and hearing the click, click, click as your candy comes down. I got a grand total of five Spree chews. Each one a different color. And in the moment in seemed like the most beautiful happenstance in the world.

I ate them one by one, in rainbow order. And I let the melting of the corn syrup on my tongue be my music for just that little while. 

Peanut Butter Sandwiches

Sometimes, friendship is as simple as saving that peanut butter sandwich. When you are both full of strength in your legs, but left with empty heaving bellies, one can turn to the other. Without question you tear the sandwich in half. It doesn't matter to me which side you take both say to the other. Because it's not about self.

It's about the concrete steps that you sit on together, chilly on your butt through your leggings. It's about the sunshine and the remnants of conversation strewn between the both of you and the miles you just traveled - free as the steps you pound out on the sidewalk and as rambling as the paths you run.

*For about a year, my friend Sam and I would run together every day. Long runs, to prepare for cross country season or long-distance track. There was always a peanut butter sandwich - actually given to Sam by Emma (another friend) during lunch because she didn't like them. It became tradition for Sam and I, every day to wait until after our tiring run to split the sandwich in half and share it - continuing our conversations.