Drive-in To My Heart
So I went to graduation on Tuesday, and it was definitely worth it. I hand-delivered a couple "Congratulations" cards to a couple friends and saw old teachers and classmates and friends. It was nice. A bit weird and other-worldly, but nice.
Last night I went to my friend Emily's 18th birthday party. More of a get-together, really. I saw more old friends there and met a couple new people. I was tired from a day at work, so I didn't stay too long. And I grow tired of group activities very quickly anyway. Oh! And as soon as I got home, my mom returned from a run to Wal-Mart, requesting (the request that's actually a demand disguised as a request) that I help her make trifle for the Wendel Foster Center employee breakfast and lunch. I sliced strawberries for, like, a half hour or something (I'm slow, but we made two huge batches of trifle) and then whipped together the whipped cream and yogurt. My mom's trifle is awesome.
Not as awesome as her and my dad's garden, though. This year my parents are on the Herb Garden Tour. I haven't seen any of the other five gardens, but I personally think our yard pretty damn hard to beat if one were to pick a winner or something. My parents have worked really hard on it the past few years, and they're so creative and have so many fantastic ideas. It's really beautiful, and I need to take pictures of it all.
Not only is it really, really pretty, but my dad went all out and bought two boxes of butterflies to release at noon today (the Garden Tour is a two-day event). Apparently, people buy butterflies and release them at weddings and things. The instructions that came with them suggested spraying the bride's bouquet with a sugar/water/syrup mix to attract the butterflies to it. That sounds really lovely, and I'll have to keep that in mind for my own wedding (that's way off in the future, but it doesn't hurt to plan nice little things like that). So my dad and two little girls (the daughters of one of his co-workers) released seventy butterflies--monarchs and pink ladies--out into the big, big world. They jumped out of the boxes at first because they were all crammed into boxes only half the size of a proper shoe box (if one could say a proper sort of shoe box exists), but they dispersed very quickly. Theoretically, they should all stick around because my parents have planted oodles of butterfly-friendly plants, but it's hard to tell what they're going to do. Bugs are bugs, even if they are pretty. Like Kant says, the more rational a thing is, the more predictable it becomes. Thanks to Mayra, I don't think I'll ever forget that.
Tonight should be fun. Jackie and her cousins and I are going to the drive-in. I don't know what we're going to see, though I wouldn't mind seeing The Break Up. I'd like to check out the Jennifer Aniston/Vince Vaughn chemistry since I keep hearing about them but haven't actually seen them together. And I like them well enough as individuals. Two likes in one movie shouldn't make a hate, right?
But more on things later. I grow tired of typing and thinking about myself. My favorite activities so far this summer include those in which I don't have to think too much. That's why I like walking and listening to books on tape. It's a nice little escape, and, really, escape isn't such a bad thing. And in some ways, one can view all forms of reality a type of escape, and all forms of escape a type of reality. Our minds are tricky things.
**EDIT**
"Painted ladies," not "pink" laides. I knew that. Thank you for riding the riding the Brain Fart Roller Coaster.
Last night I went to my friend Emily's 18th birthday party. More of a get-together, really. I saw more old friends there and met a couple new people. I was tired from a day at work, so I didn't stay too long. And I grow tired of group activities very quickly anyway. Oh! And as soon as I got home, my mom returned from a run to Wal-Mart, requesting (the request that's actually a demand disguised as a request) that I help her make trifle for the Wendel Foster Center employee breakfast and lunch. I sliced strawberries for, like, a half hour or something (I'm slow, but we made two huge batches of trifle) and then whipped together the whipped cream and yogurt. My mom's trifle is awesome.
Not as awesome as her and my dad's garden, though. This year my parents are on the Herb Garden Tour. I haven't seen any of the other five gardens, but I personally think our yard pretty damn hard to beat if one were to pick a winner or something. My parents have worked really hard on it the past few years, and they're so creative and have so many fantastic ideas. It's really beautiful, and I need to take pictures of it all.
Not only is it really, really pretty, but my dad went all out and bought two boxes of butterflies to release at noon today (the Garden Tour is a two-day event). Apparently, people buy butterflies and release them at weddings and things. The instructions that came with them suggested spraying the bride's bouquet with a sugar/water/syrup mix to attract the butterflies to it. That sounds really lovely, and I'll have to keep that in mind for my own wedding (that's way off in the future, but it doesn't hurt to plan nice little things like that). So my dad and two little girls (the daughters of one of his co-workers) released seventy butterflies--monarchs and pink ladies--out into the big, big world. They jumped out of the boxes at first because they were all crammed into boxes only half the size of a proper shoe box (if one could say a proper sort of shoe box exists), but they dispersed very quickly. Theoretically, they should all stick around because my parents have planted oodles of butterfly-friendly plants, but it's hard to tell what they're going to do. Bugs are bugs, even if they are pretty. Like Kant says, the more rational a thing is, the more predictable it becomes. Thanks to Mayra, I don't think I'll ever forget that.
Tonight should be fun. Jackie and her cousins and I are going to the drive-in. I don't know what we're going to see, though I wouldn't mind seeing The Break Up. I'd like to check out the Jennifer Aniston/Vince Vaughn chemistry since I keep hearing about them but haven't actually seen them together. And I like them well enough as individuals. Two likes in one movie shouldn't make a hate, right?
But more on things later. I grow tired of typing and thinking about myself. My favorite activities so far this summer include those in which I don't have to think too much. That's why I like walking and listening to books on tape. It's a nice little escape, and, really, escape isn't such a bad thing. And in some ways, one can view all forms of reality a type of escape, and all forms of escape a type of reality. Our minds are tricky things.
**EDIT**
"Painted ladies," not "pink" laides. I knew that. Thank you for riding the riding the Brain Fart Roller Coaster.