Cruisin'

The week we got married, we spent everyday in our new little studio apartment just enjoying each other. At the time we counted that as our honeymoon.  Tim's parents had a better idea.  They bought us tickets to go on a week long cruise to Mexico. 

Mom and Dad Huntsman, Aunt Carla and Uncle Gary, and Tim and I had fun going on vacation together. The airplane flight to L.A. being an exception. I don't know about anyone else, but I was so motion sick that I threw up in the little complimentary paper bag. I feel bad for the guy sitting next to Tim and me.  If I were him I would have joined in the yacking.  He acted like he didn't see, but he could have been pretending out of embarrassment. I thought for sure that the cruise would make me sick, too, but it didn't bother me one bit. Thank Heavens! 

You may be wondering: "How would going on one's honeymoon with one's relatives be fun?" Let me explain. Each couple had their own room and did their own thing a lot of the time, but we did get together to eat, play poker (yup, I learned how to play Texas Hold 'Em on my honeymoon), and/or sight see.  I really enjoyed getting to know my new relatives.

We were on the Carnival Splendor. That was the name of our ship. It was massive.  If memory serves me right, I think it had 9 levels--my favorite being the lido deck. This was where all the food was... all day long. We'd already payed for it with the price of our tickets which made it a buffet 24/7. Sigh. I miss the lido deck. Also, it had a covering that could come over the top of the ship if we hit foul weather (which was 80% of the time). I didn't get a sun burn or a tan because of almost constant cloud cover.

There were shows in an auditorium like room everyday. There was a karaoke room. There was dancing and gambling. We enjoyed swimming in hot tubs and sliding down slides into the pool. Though, I did not enjoy having salt water go up my nose. The pools were filled with ocean water. It was very green of them, but uncomfortable to my sinuses. Yuck.

On the top deck, they had a miniature golf course. Tim and I played through a few times. There was also a sand bag tossing game of which I was horrible at playing.  Tim of course was almost flawless at it, like he is with most games. :)

At night, they'd play a movie on a big screen in front of the patio of the lido deck. Tim and I watched the latest Terminator movie while sitting in a hot tub and then later while laying on beach chairs. Both situations were awesome.

The walls in our apartment complex were paper thin which means we could hear everything our neighbors were doing and they could hear everything we were doing.  On the other hand, the walls surrounding our room on the ship were soooo thick. We could be as loud as we wanted to be while we watched movies or did other things...if you catch my drift. Sorry, I couldn't help myself. this was our honey moon after all, haha.

Moving on, dinner was to die for. We could order anything we wanted and they would bring it to us in a five course meal fashion. By the end of the week we had grown to really like our waiters. They were a couple of funny, charismatic people. belowt is a video of dinner time on the cruise ship, Our waiters and waitresses did a different dance and song each night. It was very entertaining.

As for see the sights, we had several port days which meant that we could go to shore and explore Mexico. We stopped in Puerto Vallarta, Cabo San Lucas, and Mazatlan. Each place was jam packed with little kids and old ladies trying to sell you something. Even the taxi drivers were in on it.  We had one tell us he would drive us to the playa (beach), but instead he dropped us off in front of Di Jewelers. Eventually we found an honest taxi driver . He took us to a nice pretty much empty plot of beach. There was a little Mexican family playing in the sand, but other than that it was just us.  We road the waves as they flushed onto the shore. Tim was more adventurous than I and he went pretty far out and caught some big waves.  I was content with being slightly pushed around. After splashing in the water, I ended up getting some shell bracelets and 2 sun dresses from a lady who we suspect was in cahoots with the bar above the beach.  Most everyone, it seemed, wanted to sell us something and they know how to work the ethos, too. It is a lot harder to say no to a kid or grandma than a legit businessman for some reason.  Tim was really good at bartering, though, so we got pretty good deals.... I think, haha. 

Mom Huntsman had bought tickets for her and Carla to go horseback riding in Mazatlan, but for some reason, Tim and I ended up with them. We rode a bus and passed through some really poor looking ghettos to get us to the horses. Surrounding us as we rode our horses were little huts made out of branches and people surviving somehow in boxes and the like. It was an eye-opening experience. This was a completely different Mexico than we saw in each tourist-ville. On the ride, we were accompanied by armed policeman to prevent any harm or robbery from happening to us along the way. We were in the thick of it. Albeit we saw loads of litter and poverty, the land was beautiful, luscious and green. Plus, I got to ride a horse! That, in and of  itself, was a party.

In Cabo San Lucas, I had my first experience snorkeling.  It was traumatic, let me tell you!  I'm not a strong swimmer, first of all. To go along with that, I couldn't seem to master breathing through that tube.  I stupidly thought that clasping my teeth around the mouth piece would keep water out. No, no, no, no, no. Clasping my mouth around the mouthpiece would have made more sense. I apparently was a one woman show to everyone on the beach as they laughed at my shrieking and flailing about. Oh, and trying to walking in plastic flippers.... that is difficult.  I'm sure that aided in the hilarity of my performance, haha.  I can laugh, now, as I look back on this memory, but it was not funny at the time. Eventually, I got the hang of breathing and Tim pulled me along in the water so that I could see some crazy colorful fish. I saw a few and that was enough for me. Maybe one day I'll try it again. Hopefully, I don't epically fail like I did that day.

The moral of this story is that cruises are fantastic and I want to go an more of them (them being plural on purpose). MORE, please. :D

      

Farris Wheel Phobia

My mom is deathly afraid of heights and yet at lagoon, a few years back, we persuaded her to go on the Farris Wheel with us. She was doing just fine-- focusing on her happy place and white-knuckling some bars-- until my cousin decided to "cure her of her phobia." He figured that if he pried her hands form the bars that she'd suddenly realize there was nothing to be afraid of. This plan didn't work, in the least, and the poor woman lost control. It was not pretty, and I do not recommend disturbing a person's happy place... uh... EVER.

I'm sure that a group of people coming off a ride with a hysteric woman was quite the sight. I can just picture an impressionable little kid seeing us and thinking to himself, "Golly! That ride must be horrid." For all we know my mom's scene could have made a whole litter of little children deathly afraid of Farris Wheels.... and the phobia is passed on.

I know...

[If there are any questions about the below please ask me, check out http://www.mormon.org/, http://www.lds.net/, http://www.lds.org/, or talk with your friendly neighborhood LDS missionaries. :) ]

I am a woman with strong christian beliefs, a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints (in other words... I'm Mormon), and I know that by the power of prayer anyone can obtain a knowledge of loving heavenly parents and a brother, the Savior, Jesus Christ. How do I know this? Well, let me tell you my story...

I was born into an LDS (Latter-day Saint) family and raised in the church. I remember going to church every week. Sundays were very special.

I loved getting up early and having my mom and grandma (we lived with my grandparents for the first five years of my life) help me curl my long blonde hair and put on a pretty dress. My Grandma would sometimes make us breakfast and she would turn on reverent music (usually the Mormon Tabernacle Choir) as she cooked and finished getting ready for the day. This would set such a peaceful mood.

Primary was amazing! Being with other little kids, to sing songs and learn about the gospel was a very sweet experience. To this day, primary songs have a tender spot in my heart.

When I turned eight-years-old, I was old enough to make my own decision as to whether or not I wanted to be baptized. Looking back on it, I'm not sure that I fully understood the hugeness of the covenants that I was undertaking, but I knew enough. I knew that I wanted to be good and to choose the right. I knew that Christ was baptized and, since he was the perfect example, I knew that I should be baptized, as well.

At my baptism, I remember that, once I had come back out of the water, I felt clean. It was like I was shining from head to toe. I felt warm and cozy-- as if I had received the best hug ever! The next Sunday, I was confirmed and received the gift of the Holy Ghost. This gift has been a major comfort and guide in my life. I have continued to grow and it has helped me make wise decisions and be comforted when things get tough.

The years went by and, eventually, I turned twelve. At this age girls and boys graduated from primary and moved into Young Men's and Young Women's (otherwise known as Youth Group or Mutual). Activities, leaders, and friends were there to help and support me.

The summer after I turned 13, I found a Book of Mormon with my older brother's testimony in the back of it. He first read the whole thing, cover to cover, at the age of 12. Seeing this, I decided to read the Book of Mormon, too. I'd heard some of its stories in Sunday School classes and Sacrament meeting talks.

At first, that was all it was to me-- stories. I read nonchalantly until I reached the book of Enos. That day, my mom and I were driving around and running errands when my progress with reading became the topic of conversation. I told her how much I'd read and she responded with a question that changed everything.

"So... Do you know it's true, yet?" she asked.

At this, I was hit with a realization. "No," I admitted. I had no idea whether or not it was true. I'd heard it was true from family members and church leaders, but I-- for the first time in my life-- didn't want to blindly rely on their words. I wanted to know for myself! After all, if the Book of Mormon wasn't true, then that meant that Joseph Smith didn't translate it correctly. For all I knew, he could have made up the whole thing! If this was the case, then he must not have been an inspired man of God; and if he wasn't a prophet, then the whole church that was supposedly restored through him would have to not be true, as well. This would mean that everything I had been taught throughout my whole life (concerning religion) would have to be wrong. With this train of thought, I began to doubt and question everything. If none of this was true, then I needed to find out for myself so that I could move on with my life. I didn't want to continue "wasting my time" with an untrue church. That would have been pointless.

Reading the Book of Mormon, from that day on, became a quest for knowledge and truth. I prayed to know, without a doubt, whether or not its writings were true, whether or not all of its doctrines were true, and if the prophets and church leaders were are all called of God. I needed to know! Not knowing was driving me insane.

This process of searching for an answer took time. My life consisted of nothing else but reading, praying and searching for answers. Finally, one day, I came across a scripture in Moroni that promised that through the whisperings of the Holy Ghost, a person could know and understand all things. Moroni states:

Behold, I exort you that when ye shall read these things, if it be wisdom in God that ye should read them that ye would remember how merciful the Lord hath been to the children of men, from the creation of Adam even down until the time that ye shall receive these things, and ponder it in your hearts. And when ye shall receive these things, I would exort you that ye would ask God, the Eternal Father, in the name of Christ, if these things are not true; and if ye shall ask with a sincere heart, with real intent, having faith in Christ, he will manifest the truth of it unto you, by the power of the Holy Ghost. And by the power of the Holy Ghost ye may know the truth of all things. (Moroni 10:3-5)

When I read this, my resolve to discover the truthfulness of the Book of Mormon and everything having to do with the church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints was strengthened for a final push. I was in the concluding chapter of the book and my faith was beginning to wane. I needed to know, I yearned to know.

At church, during the sacrament hymn, I tried focusing on the words as the congregation sang about the Savior. The words pounded into my head-- words about a man who had supposedly suffered the Atonement for me and for everyone. My mind turned to my recent readings about the Savior. In the book of 3 Nephi, in The Book of Mormon, he comes to visit the people on the American continent after his resurrection. They were the lost sheep that he spoke of in The New Testament. It all made sense. It had to be true, but I wasn't sure, yet. I wanted to be sure so that if anyone asked me if I knew, I could honestly answer them. I closed my eyes and silently offered up one more prayer. I pled with God to know-- to know so that I couldn't question!

All of the sudden, I was filled with warmth. It was as if a light bulb had gone off in my head and in my heart. The clouds of uncertainty lifted and I just knew. The Book of Mormon is true! Jesus is the Christ! God is my father in Heaven! Joseph Smith was a prophet! Gordon B. Hinckley was the president of the church, then, and he was a true prophet, too! Everything came together in a rush of knowledge. The Holy Ghost spoke to my heart of the truthfulness of all of it and my chest burned with emotion. I was crying because the experience was so overpowering. I felt such joy and gratitude for a Heavenly Father who listened to my many prayers and answered every single one. It was amazing!

I gained my own testimony that day and am glad to say that I do know, now. I carried this knowledge with me through the remainder of my jr. high and high school years. It has gone with me to college and I am constantly reminded of the sweetness and truth of the gospel through my studies, prayers, and attendance in my singles' ward and institute classes. I pray to always remember this knowledge and to have the courage to share it with others so that they might come to know, as well.

I know...

I know that Jesus was born to Mary about 2000 years ago. I know that he lived a perfect life, suffered the Atonement, bled from every pore, was crucified, and was resurrected for me and for every person who ever lived and who ever will live. He knows and loves me. He suffered through all of my pains and has atoned for all of my sins so that I might not be alone through the trials of this life and so that I can repent and be clean again. Oh, how I love the Savior!!!!

I know that Joseph Smith was a prophet. Before that, though, he was a young boy who lived at a time of great religious excitement. He questioned truth and had the faith to ask, in prayer, about which of the churches he should join. In a grove of trees, he knelt in prayer. His prayer was answered! Jesus Christ and Heavenly Father appeared to him and told him to join none of them.
It was through this young boy's faith, that the gospel was restored upon the earth in all of its fullness. Through the authority/keys of the Priesthood, the church of Christ and the ordinances, doctrines, revelations, scriptures, and etc. are once again upon the earth!

I know that the Book of Mormon is true scripture. I have read it and have felt the beautiful promptings of the Holy ghost while doing so. It, alongside the Bible, is another testament of Christ. It is a record of a people who lived on the American continent-- their dealings with God, the Savior, and each other. It was translated by Joseph Smith with the assistance of the Urim and Thummim. Though it be a record of ancient inhabitants, its writings have the ability to change lives for the better, comfort hearts, and inspire those who read it, today.

I know that temples are holy places, houses of the Lord. I know that the ordinances done in temples (for the living and dead) make it possible for families to be together forever.

I know that God loves me, that I am his daughter, and that he wants me to be happy. He listens to my prayers and answers each and everyone of them. Prayer is powerful! Miracles happen everyday because of simple prayers. I know that "with God, nothing is impossible" (Luke 1:37).

I know that anyone can come to this knowledge and find answers to any question through careful study and earnest prayer.

I know these things and so much more.... It is so wonderful!!!!! and I thank my God for all of it!

I testify of these things and close this blog entry in Jesus Christ's sacred name. Amen. :)

9th Grade Somethings

Today, I received an email from my friend, Stephanie. She had been looking through old word files on her computer and came across one of our crazy 9th grade English projects. Reading this brought back an infinite number of memories. We were definitely on the weird side, back in the day. Heck! We still are... :) If you so choose to read this be sure and picture a set of teenage girls in totally awesome Renaissance garb. Enjoy!

Fashion and Dress Script

Stephanie: This is the Fashion and Dress Booth, and we will be giving you a little bit of information about the Renaissance Period and the way they dressed. We will demonstrate to you how the Fashion and Dress of that time was extremely important to everyone, as it helped separate those of the different classes: Upper, Middle and Lower.

*Start Skit*

Molly: Abigail sits and sighs, saying,

Brooke: Gown, Gown, where art thou, Gown?

Molly: Suddenly, Diana jumps out, sounding somewhat excited and guilty.

Stephanie: Abigail! There is something I have been meaning to tell you! *sniff* I have your father’s gown!!!!

*Gasps from all*

Ashley: Men of the early Renaissance wore gowns, which were long jackets that reached the floor. The gowns had long sleeves that were puffed out, and both men and women wore very pointed shoes and tight hats,

Molly: Let’s rewind that a little.

Stephanie: I have your father’s gown!!!!

*Gasps from all*

Molly: Abigail looks distraught, and screams,

Brooke: NOOOOOOOOOO! You killed my father’s gown!!!

Molly: Diana smiles evil-like.

Stephanie: No, I AM your father’s gown!

Molly: Abigail, with a confused look, says,

Brooke: that can’t be so! You look more like a cloak!

Ashley: After about 15 years, gowns were discarded, and men now adorned cloaks, which were wider, but much shorter, and revealed the adopted tight pants of a man.

Molly: Diana smiles,

Stephanie: My dear, I think your eyes deceive you! For you must be blinded by your bright jewelry, which shows of your high class!

Ashley: Wealthy women of the Renaissance wore large gowns which usually had pearls or gems sown into them. Also, women wore a lot of jewelry around their necks, wrists, fingers, and even in their hair.

Molly: Abigail laughs,

Brooke: This is not so! Sunglasses have been invented! *whips out sunglasses*

Stephanie: You lie!!!!

Brooke: I don’t! They’re on my bloody face! Now what, pray tell, did my father’s gown look like??

Molly: Diana looks scared.

Stephanie: Uh…ahem…Well, it had…a…FARTHINGALE!! Yes! And a chemise!

Ashley: A farthingale is a hooped skirt spread over wire to give the outer skirts a ‘poor’ and a chemise is a slip-like undergarment to protect out skirts from wear and bodily perspiration and such.

Brooke: No!

Molly: screams Abigail.

Brooke: that is from my mother’s wardrobe! You are a lying, beef-witted footlicker! Don’t you know the penalty for dressing above your social class?

Molly: Diana looks down.

Stephanie: No, I really do have the gown!

Brooke: and you say I lie! Leave my sight immediately, you *begins to sing* Riff Raff, Street rat!-

Stephanie: I don’t buy that! If only they’d look closer! Would they see a peasant?

Stephanie and Brooke together: No ser-ie: they’d find out, there’s so much more to me (you)!

Molly: Abigail looked surprised.

Brooke: Well, what about you?

Stephanie: Well…I know a lot about our history and fashion!!

Brooke: Really? Let’s be friends!

*All Prance off Happily*

.... like I said, "weird."

Bubble Sheet Blues

[As you have probably already guessed... I'm a fan of using my other sources of writing to create blogs. I lack a sense of creativity, I suppose. Hehe. Sooo yeah.... Below is an excerpt of an email that I sent my friend, yesterday. If you're reading this, dear friend, I hope you don't mind me snatching this from our correspondence. Thanks!]


Guess what? *sigh* (and I really did just sigh, too) I had an econ test today, for which I studied hardcore (and by studied hardcore I mean that I seriously crammed) I even stayed on campus until midnight, last night. It was awesome!. I felt prepared, I'm pretty sure that I was prepared, and I think that, answer-wise, I did pretty well on the exam this morning. I took the full hour and was feeling pretty good about the whole situation (I knew that I'd probably missed a few, but hey... this was the best I'd ever felt after an econ exam), and then I turned in the bubble sheet and suddenly every happy emotion I had previously been feeling was replaced with heart-dropping nastiness.

I had forgotten to fill in the bubbles of my name and ID number! My teacher, after noticing this, transformed from her happy nice self into a monster. "You know you're losing 75 points for turning it in like this!" she angrily piped. What am I supposed to say to that? " Yup! I know, I planned it that way. I figured that failing my first test would be the way to go!" Yeah right! I felt retarded. My name was on the bubble sheet line on the opposite side of the paper. Who designed bubble sheets anyhow? The identification bubbles should be on the front so that forgetful/loserish people, like myself, will remember to fill them in. AHHH!

I apologized and asked if she would pity me. Her reply, "It's not my sorry it is your sorry." I was like "I know. Hence why I said I'm sorry not you're sorry." I actually said that, can you believe?!? It was definitely not the best moment of my life. Even with my dumb remark, she did eventually give in to my pleas by letting me buy an opportunity to fill in the stupid bubbles. I ended up sacrificing 15 glorious points!!!!! That is an automatic 85 % ( if I aced the exam... and I know that didn't happen.) I should be grateful for the second chance. 15 points is definitely better than 75!!!!! Stupid bubble sheet. I had my name on everything, even the bubble sheet... just not in the bubbles. :(

After this annoying escapade, I ended up losing control of my emotions and bawling in the girl's restroom. It was pathetic. I couldn't stop crying and I'm not an attractive crier. I managed to pull myself together enough so that I was only a few minutes late to my next class. I think my teacher forgave me for being late the instant I walked through the door, due to my red face, blood-shot eyes, and puffy cheeks. I received the "are you alright?" look from everyone. It was nice to know that they all care about my well being, but still... Crying because of a bad grade-- a total Brooke thing to do and yet very embarrassing. I hate it when high hopes are crushed so unexpectedly.

Road Trip Creativity

Road trip ideas are always the best. I'm the only writer in my family so our creative genius comes out in film productions instead of novels. We make crappily amazing movies and have a lot of fun. I know that some of our best movie scenes were thought up on long car rides to family reunions (and other vacation spots). Such epics include: Lord of the Toe Ring, Attack of Sponge Bob, The pioneers, Thumpdrag, Guess that Film, The War, Saving Private Ryan II, and the list goes on.

The Ups and Downs of Me

3/6/07
Remember how I told you about my mood issues, and how sugar makes me feel diseased, etc.. Well, as of late, the diseased feeling has been extra terrible, and I've been shaky with heart spasms, and such. It has not been very enjoyable, to say the least. Thyroid issues, and blood sugar level problems have a history of occurring in folks from both sides of my family. Because of this information, and the pure fact that my issues were really rubbing on my nerves, I headed to the good old doctor's office. I told him my symptoms and he agreed that it could be the two problems mentioned previously. For testing purposes, I had an EKG and my blood drawn. I'm a wuss when it comes to needles, and almost passed out. I had a good nurse, though, and she only needed to jab me once. THANK GOODNESS! With the test results, we've decided that I am hypoglycemic. This explains a lot. My hard past months, with bipolar mood swings, were probably caused by low blood sugar. I'd go and buy a blood sugar level tester but I'd never use it because of my insane phobia of needles. I can handle other people poking me (if I have to, I guess) but when it comes to the stabbing of myself... such thoughts are NO GOOD. "The horror!" I mean I've tried to do the poke your finger thing. It failed miserably, and I ended up in tears. It sounds ridiculous, and it is ridiculous, but it is true.

*Anyways*

As i was sayin'... I am starting up a "Happy Brookie" food schedule. This schedule requires that I eat something about every two hours. It is kind of annoying, but totally worth it. Snacks that contain a mother-load of protein have become my best friends. It is amazing how much a person's health affects everything else in life.

Early Morning Predicaments: Segment III

Here Cometh the Flood

Falling in and out of a freezing and uncomfortable slumber, Brooke began to dream. She could the see headlights of a car coming up the road. It was stopping in front of her house! In the haze of her subconsciousness, she excitedly watched as a young man walked up to the truck. Jason, one of Brooke's friends (who was leaving for BYU), had come to her rescue!

"Hey!" He said. "So... I kept getting this really random image of you dressed as Princess Leah and calling out, 'Jason, you are my only hope.' I figured that, since I couldn't get your princess Leah-ness out of my head and the roads are kind of slick, I'd better check to see if you made it home okay."

"Jason! Princess Leah, huh? Telepathy really does work!!!" she happily spouted.

"What about Telepathy?"

"Umm, never mind"

"Ok...?" he replied, looking slightly confused. "But, if you don't mind my asking, what are you doing in there?"

"Oh, you know," she sarcastically answered. "A girl can't help but enjoy the luxury of sleeping in a Ford pick-up, once in a while. The Ameritel Inn charges a bank-load for one night in their 'Hitch-hiker's Abode' room, but I'm all about doing the real thing for free. First class dirty towels, old t-shirt coverlets, plastic arm-rest pillows, a glorious windshield view of the night sky.... It's the perfect sleeping arrangement!! NOT!"

She explained the truth of her situation to him and they shared a laugh as he proceeded to open her door. She was free, at last! Stepping down onto the icy pavement, she thanked him. "What a gallant thing for you to do, kind Sir... opening a lady's door and all." She giggled and enthusiastically hugged her liberator.

After their joyous embrace, Jason's nose suddenly began to shine. It beamed brighter and brighter, until his whole body was gone. It was as if, due to a case of spontaneous combustion, he had been reduced to nothing but fire. The next thing she knew, the setting and objects in her mind mutated until the ceiling of the truck blurred into view.

Waking from her dream, Brooke was glad to know that Jason hadn't really burst into flame. All lovely thoughts of him and his rescuing her were smothered, though, by the sad reality of her early morning predicament. Having found tape, in the jockey box, she had decided that sticking a piece of cardboard over the cab light would block most of the glare. This had assisted her in sleeping more comfortably. Apparently, though, her tape job had failed and the cardboard barely dangled above her. Having the light revealed again, disturbed her dream and she was anything but pleased. "So much for sleeping in darkness, not that I was really getting much sleep."

The inside of the car was cold enough, when she was exerting energy, but the chill worsened as she lay still. Wondering if a change in position would do her any good, she sat up. The vertical movement brought an unexpected pressure upon her bladder and she knew that, unless she could find some way to relieve herself in the next minute or two, the future of her dad's truck interior would not look or smell very pretty. She had managed to forget about her full bladder, until now. At this point, though, no manner of mind-control tactics could spare her.

With crossed legs, she looked about for some sort of container that would be suitable for the task that she dearly wished to perform. Boxes would not do; she was not about to deal with soggy cardboard. Plus, thoughts of the stench from an open box full of urine was enough to trigger her gag reflexes. The cranks of her creative brain were turning at high speed. Every object in sight suddenly became a science project. Could she somehow transform a flashlight into a toilet... ish... object. "No." How about a camera case? "Not really." Perhaps, a water bottle would do the job. "Or not," she snapped, wishing-- for the first time in her life-- that she was a boy. "If I could only aim!"

Concluding that her inventive skills lacked, she decided to give prayer another chance. After all, she had done what she could and was now in need of a serious miracle. "Please, Heavenly Father, I need your help!" she whispered. "Surely you love my daddy enough to save his car from an explosion of my bladder. I need to pee, like no other, and I need you to help me get out of this car before it happens! PLEASE!!!!!!!" She closed her little prayer in the name of the Savior and then tried her lot at using faith. Grabbing the handle, she took a deep breath, and pushed against the door.

Even without the use of thee's and thou's, Brooke's prayer was answered and the door flew open as if it were never jammed! Her response: "Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, THANK YOU SOOOO MUCH!!!! I'm free... I have to pee, but I'm free! Yes!!! Bathroom, here I come!"

It may be hard to believe, but-- with the stinging wind-- the temperature outside of the truck felt lower than that of her previous imprisonment. She would almost prefer to remain huddled on the seat of the truck, but she knew that she needed only to trek to the backyard, through the sliding door and into the house to be warm and one step closer to emptying her gallons.

"I'm almost there" she encouraged herself, as she waddled over the icy ground. As she reached patio, snow began to fall. "Please be open," she pleaded, yanking on the sliding glass door. It flew open as easily as did the door to the truck (after her final prayer, anyways) and she felt a hint of warmth as heat found its way past the blinds. Her hands reached in, to move the blinds out of the way, and felt that a chair was blocking her path. "Are you kidding me?" she murmured. "Honestly!" Crouched on the ground, with every muscle in her body devoting itself to the cause, she wasn't sure if she could spare enough strength to push anything out of the way, without losing control.

Figuring that the chair would need to be moved for her to enter the house, whether she wet herself while moving it or not, she stood up. In a matter of seconds her muscles seemed to give up the fight. It was as if a dam had broken! A flood of pee burst forth with great force and in one full and continuous flow! A warm wetness rushed down her legs, darkening her jeans and forming a yellowish puddle in the snow. She was sure she'd never urinated so much in her life. If she hadn't stopped soon, her back yard might have become one very large frozen pond!

She was much relieved, when her tank had fully emptied and-- looking down at herself-- she easily converted feelings of embarrassment into gratitude. She would have preferred the comforts of her warm bathroom, but decided that it was definitely better to have a puddle of frozen Brooke Pee on the patio as opposed to a mess of nastiness on the carpet of the hallway.

The extra warmth felt nice, at first, but her clothes soon started freezing to her skin. Before any icicles had a chance to form, she stripped off her soaked clothes, pushed the chair out of her way, and streaked upstairs. Desperately, she hoped to remain unseen. In her opinion, running into her father (while sporting nothing but her birthday suit) would have been quite disturbing. "No thanks!" she thought, quickly tip-toeing to her bathroom. "I have had enough excitement for one morning."

After tossing her dirty clothes into the tub, she rinsed them and herself off with soap and water. She then readied herself for bed, peeled out her hardened contacts, and jumped into her gloriously soft bed. "It's over," she sighed with relief.

The clock on her bedside table read 6:04 a.m.. It had been hours since she had said goodbye to her friends and headed home. As she lay there, wrapped in three fluffy comforters, her thoughts replayed all of the events of the night. She smiled as she remembered how God had heard and answered her prayers. She had been very blessed. And what a story she would have to tell, if ever she was to give a talk on the power of prayer!!! Closing her eyes, she could picture her frozen puddle of pee and it made her laugh. "Try and catch me complaining about cold toilet seats, ever again," she whispered to her pillow as she hugged it tight and slipped peacefully into a restful sleep.

The End.

Early Morning Predicaments: Segment II

Failed Attempts at Telepathy

"Well this is quite the situation; now, isn't it? What more am I supposed to do?" Brooke piped, feeling more and more annoyed at herself (for getting locked in the car), her dad (for having a car with useless doors), and everyone/everything in the world (simply because she was not in a good mood).

She was sure that her parents would eventually stir (to go to the bathroom or something of the like), notice that the lights were left on and the door not locked, and decide to check on her. All, but the latter, of these thoughts were correct. As she sat in the lit truck, feeling like a fish in a fish tank, Brooke watched the house as the lights were switched off. Neither her mom nor dad came out to retrieve her and she was saddened as a bit of hope faded. Her parents must have seen her things and figured that, because it was so late, she had forgotten to lock the door and turn out the lights.

Many cars sped past and she tried to signal them. Sadly, though, no amount of flailing her arms or endeavors at flashlight Morse Code brought any of them to a stop. She thought about honking the horn and, as an omniscient narrator, I say that she definitely should have. For some reason (low blood sugar, exhaustion, or just plain old stupidity), she decided against the idea and focused on other things.

She began to pray for help: for the door to miraculously open, for someone to come to the rescue, for faith that things would turn out alright, and for some brilliant idea. Nothing seemed to happen-- even with her continuous attempts at slamming against the door, fitting keys, and channeling someone telepathically.

The scene from Star Wars, where Princess Leah is seen recording the message: "Obi-Wan Kenobi, you are my only hope," popped into her head. Surely she could send out some kind of thought wave. "Aren't all humans supposed to be connected spiritually , somehow? Come on, Heavenly Father, help a woman out. Send the Holy Ghost to inform others that I'm having issues, please." With that, she began to focus. She was bent on reaching possible rescuers with her thoughts. "Mike Lott" she said, trying to connect with her dad, "I know you're awake because I just saw you turn off the porch light. Now this may sound ridiculous, but I'm sitting out in your car and would be ever so grateful, if you could come and save me. Please, come and find me!" She repeated this process about a dozen times with several different people and then waited for results.

For what seemed like an eternity, nothing happened. Frustration welled up inside her and, all of the sudden, she burst into tears. Every harsh emotion she had been feeling (the stress of an up-and-coming music competition, the emptiness of having her friends leave for school, and etc.) seemed to combine until an emotional bomb formed and exploded. She hadn't had a good cry in ages and her negative energy had found a reason to surface. After a bout of sobs, she luckily found a roll of toilet paper and was able to take care of the after effects of crying .She then resumed her efforts at escape.

Having lost most of her motivation and noticing a dull ache in her shoulder, she decided to give up on body-slamming the stubborn door and turned her focus in another direction.--Sleep. She didn't have access to a clock, but she was sure that quite a bit of time had passed. And besides, she had been partying, non-stop, the past couple of weeks and her young body was yearning for some shut-eye.

Digging through her father's work supplies (piano hammers, tuning kits, and the like), she scrummaged up an old t-shirt and a dirty towel. Covering herself with these, she lay across the seat. Every position she formed was uncomfortable in some way or another, but she didn't care anymore. It was not like she had much of a choice and, seeing as how she was definitely spending the night in her dad's truck, she was determined to get some shut-eye!

Early Morning Predicaments: Segment I

This piece took longer to compose than I thought it would, but (as you can see) the below chunk of writing is rather lengthy (I hope that it isn't too long). At first, this story was to be sent to a friend, through email, but I decided that I'd spice it up by transforming it into an actual story in three parts. Writing about myself in the third person was harder than I originally thought it would be; though, I definitely enjoyed the challenge.

Anyways... Pull up a chair, pop some corn, and prepare yourself for my week's most interesting (if nothing else) adventure.


*clears throat*

Keys to Self-Confinement

Brooke clumsily fumbled through her purse. The air was cold and her hands, searching desperately for her keys, trembled while her body shivered. Her light jacket was barely able to keep the chill out, let alone, the warmth of her body in. Key now in hand, she unlocked her car and jumped in, closing the door behind her. Inserting the key into the ignition, she started the engine and instantly turned up the heat.

The car ride home was one of silence. Her mind was racing-- full of memories of the past and thoughts of the future. After pulling into the driveway, for a moment, she sat there and savored the heat as it rushed out of the vents and brushed against her skin.

Closing her eyes, she leaned her head against the steering wheel,as images from the past few weeks rolled into view. Christmas break had come and gone, for most of her friends, and it was time for them to go back to school. Because of this, she couldn't help feeling a bit depressed. It had been so wonderful to see her old chums and now the time for goodbyes had returned. She hated the thought of not being with them and equally loved the idea of their return. "Then again," she whispered to herself, "it seems like the more I'm with them, the more I become attached, and the harder it is to say goodbye."

At this, she sighed, turned off her car, got out, locked it, and headed into her house. Before she made it up the drive, though, something caught her eye. Turning around, she saw that her dad had left on his truck lights! She laughed, remembering other examples of his forgetfulness/ADHD and then went on into the house to snag a key to his car.

It was about midnight and her parents had already gone to bed. The Christmas tree gave a dim glow, but it was not enough light to assist her in such a quest. Hoping not to disturb her family, she flipped on a few lights, stashed her purse on the counter and began to look for her father's lunchbox (his basic man purse). Due to the fact that he usually carried it with him everywhere and used it to hold all of his things, she figured that it would be a good place to start. It would have been perfect, indeed, had the lunch box been in its usual location.

Instead of a pile of work clothes nestling it against the wall, next to the bathroom. Brooke found only carpet. Seeing the bathroom, though, she realized that it was about time to empty her bladder, but-- because there were more important things to accomplish, first-- she pushed this thought to the back of her mind and continued walking.

Being unsuccessful in spotting her dad's keys out in the open, she decided to check a few drawers and cupboards. Finally, in the kitchen, she came upon a bunch of random solo keys. "I've found the mother load," she sarcastically said as she gathered a handful and headed back out into the cold. "One of these had better work or his lights will just have to stay the way they are." Endeavoring to fit the key into the lock she urged every one of them on, in hope of a match. "Ugg! Come on, little buddy, please work... I have to pee and it's insanely cold out here!"

Finally, just as she was about to give up on the whole charade, the last key of her plethora actually fit into the lock. "I'm in!" she exclaimed. "Now, lets get down to business." Up and in she climbed. After habitually closing the door to her side, she noticed that it was mutilated and momentarily freaked. Reassuring herself, she recalled how her dad had rolled down his window each time he needed to open the door. Doing this made it possible for him to reach the handle from the outside. "No problem," she thought, "I'll turn on the car, fix the lights, and then roll down my window like Dad always does." She then reached into her pocket and grabbed the key that had let her into the truck. After jabbing it into the ignition, she was shocked to find that it wouldn't allow her to start the engine.

"Well, crap... Now what am I supposed to do?" Since it was impossible for her to unroll the window without having the truck running, she was forced to try the other door. It wouldn't let her out, either. The passenger-side door was open enough to keep the dome light lit, but not enough to be of any service. Remembering that she had only unlocked the one door, Brooke quickly clicked the button to unlock the passenger's side door, too. This didn't change a thing.

Pushing and pulling, she used every ounce of her strength to try and move the door enough so that it would either close or break open. She even attempted a few donkey-styled kicks with her feet. Nothing seemed to jar the door more than half and inch. Not even holding the handle and ramming her body against the door did much for her situation. Feeling completely helpless, she pulled out every single key from the pocket of her jacket and tried to squeeze them into the ignition. It was no use and, to her despair, none of them would fit well enough to start the car. As pathetic as it may seem, Brooke had locked herself in her dad's pick-up; she had opened and closed the door to her own self-confinement!

"I'm a Big Girl, Now!"

I remember, when I was a little girl, that I'd crawl up on the counter tops and stand as high as I could. I wanted to know what a big person's view of the world looked like. At the time, it was pretty scary. I'm glad we, as humans, grow a little bit at a time. Can you imagine the torture of one huge growing pain, the disgustingness of the stretch marks, and the awkwardness of growing tall-- all at once?

Another memory just popped into my head! When I was still a little girl (probably around the same time that I crawled up on the counter) I had a dream that my family was going out to eat at a Burger King when, all of the sudden, I started to grow! It was the weirdest thing (kind of like when Alice (in Alice in Wonderland) eats the pastry and grows really huge). I remember saying "Hold on guys, I'm growing. Wait for me!" like it was a normal, everyday, little kid thing to do. I'm glad we don't all shoot up in a matter of minutes. It would be fast, yes, but I like doing some things bit by bit. I'm not sure I could have handled one huge zip to 5'7". The elevation change would have killed me and I'm afraid of heights enough, as it is.... hehe.