Thank you, Aunt Amy, who had the idea for this post, and who is, in fact, a builder of ice creams.
Is there ever a wrong time for ice cream?
No.
Can one ever be too full for ice cream?
No.
Can it ever be too wintery/cold for ice cream?
No.
Is ice cream unhealthy?
No. Not for the soul.
Needless to say, ice cream is my favorite dessert food. I would say it's my favorite food ever, but pizza and mac & cheese bring tough competition. Despite this, I have no favorite ice cream flavor, but some well-loved ones include mint chocolate chip, chocolate chip cookie dough, moose tracks, cake batter, mocha chip from Graeters, straight up chocolate, straight up vanilla, and many others.
Toppings are never a must, but they may be desired in the case of plain ice cream (like vanilla). Never nuts. Ever. As a topping or in my ice cream. But peanut butter is occasionally acceptable (for example, the little Reeses-like cups in moose tracks) Also, a sugar cone is preferred to a cake cone, but a bowl is always just as well too. I've had a waffle cone like once in my life, and although it was tasty, it sweated ice cream which was not very convenient or clean.
Ice cream is suitable for any event or social situation, always. It can be just as classy as it can be fun and playful. And if you dump it on your apple pie, or into a mug of hot chocolate, you're doing life right.
Ice cream, in short, is a gift from God. They call it soul food for a reason. While it may be cold to the tongue, it brings warmth to the heart and a smile to the face.
I guess all I can say now is...
I SCREAM YOU SCREAM WE ALL SCREAM FOR ICE CREAM
God bless.
Friday, August 24, 2012
Wednesday, August 15, 2012
Singing
Summer camp means singing, of course.
I sang all summer long. I started out by shouting at the top of my lungs, and cracking my voice every now and then. The higher register went completely untouched, as I was going for volume, not tone. It wasn't, shall we say, "pretty."
As the summer went on, though, I noticed a change. By the end of the summer I had found vocal strength that I haven't had since I was in high school (when I was in 2 choirs and taking voice lessons). Now, I was making music all the time. I was either playing recorder, or whistling (I am a fine whistler), or singing. Walking from here to there, I sang songs to myself, even ones that I haven't heard in ages. I sang with confidence, strength, and volume. Even in my higher register. It was amazing to me, that all I needed to do to get that voice back was to sing more. I didn't need lessons, or a choir, for me to feel confident in my singing. I think it actually sounded decent. And definitely more adult-like than it did at the beginning of the summer.
Now that camp is over and I'm sitting at home all day, my amateur singing has come to a sudden and almost complete stop. It seems out-of-place here.
Whatever shall I do? School is starting soon and I doubt I'll be singing as I walk from here to there. People would roll their eyes at me and scoff, "music majors!" I am going to lose my fine singing voice yet again. Although, perhaps next summer I shall gain it back.
Or maybe I could spend a few hours in a practice room and finally learn to really, truly yodel...
God bless.
I sang all summer long. I started out by shouting at the top of my lungs, and cracking my voice every now and then. The higher register went completely untouched, as I was going for volume, not tone. It wasn't, shall we say, "pretty."
As the summer went on, though, I noticed a change. By the end of the summer I had found vocal strength that I haven't had since I was in high school (when I was in 2 choirs and taking voice lessons). Now, I was making music all the time. I was either playing recorder, or whistling (I am a fine whistler), or singing. Walking from here to there, I sang songs to myself, even ones that I haven't heard in ages. I sang with confidence, strength, and volume. Even in my higher register. It was amazing to me, that all I needed to do to get that voice back was to sing more. I didn't need lessons, or a choir, for me to feel confident in my singing. I think it actually sounded decent. And definitely more adult-like than it did at the beginning of the summer.
Now that camp is over and I'm sitting at home all day, my amateur singing has come to a sudden and almost complete stop. It seems out-of-place here.
Whatever shall I do? School is starting soon and I doubt I'll be singing as I walk from here to there. People would roll their eyes at me and scoff, "music majors!" I am going to lose my fine singing voice yet again. Although, perhaps next summer I shall gain it back.
Or maybe I could spend a few hours in a practice room and finally learn to really, truly yodel...
God bless.
Sunday, August 12, 2012
A Fear of Heights
*This blog post inspired by my good friend/roommate Amy's recent skydiving experience.
I wouldn't exactly say that I have the fear of heights. I can be up in a tall building, or even an airplane, and feel no fear whatsoever. Heck, I sleep on the top bunk of the bed for most of the year.
But I have a thing with ladders, and I have a thing with jumping.
It's hard to define both of them, because not everything about these things scares me.
When it comes to ladders, I am not afraid of ladders themselves. I can look at them, I can be around them. What I am afraid of is climbing them. Sometimes. I think the best way to explain it would be a feeling of insecurity, which means not all ladders scare me, because not all ladders are insecure. But most are.
A ladder that you have to take out, unfold, set up yourself, etc. = bad. How can a lightweight, foldy thing possibly bear my weight? Sometimes at the summer camp I work at, I actually have to climb them, and I always get short of breath and insist that someone hold down the other side and keep it steady. If it is leaning against a wall, that's still not good enough. Someone has to hold onto it from underneath. Believe it or not, even smallish step-ladders make me a bit nervous. Actually, just moveable ladders in general. They're terrifying. I'll climb them, but I'll probably die if I do.
A ladder that is built into a wall or some other sturdy structure = no problem. It's not an issue with myself. I mean, of course I trust my own strength (have you seen my guns?), and if I feel I can trust whatever the ladder is built into, then I'm good. For example, I climbed up the built-in ladder at the end of my bunk bed in my dorm room all the time, because I trusted the bed not to topple over and crush me. But a hook ladder you attach to a bunk bed and can move around--no. That thing is not firmly attached to anything and will probably kill me. Furthermore, the ladder on Turtle Island (the tree loft at my camp) is totally fine with me. It's a big wooden structure that I put my trust in. I even let go of the rungs with both my hands in order to close the door (difficult and sometimes painful to do, but actually not scary).
Now for jumping. I am scared of jumping off of high things usually. The zip line at the climbing wall at camp... no. Well, okay, the zip line itself is fine, even fun, but initially jumping off the platform is basically impossible for me. I actually can't bring myself to do it. The two times I've used the zip line, I had the person at the top push me off.
When I was little, I took swimming lessons, and to pass the course I had to jump off the diving board. Just once. I stood at the end of that board freaking out for who knows how long (seconds? hours? months?) and when it became clear that I couldn't jump off, a lifeguard snuck up behind me and pushed me off so I could pass the class.
I have jumped off a few diving boards in my day, but not many. I haven't done it in years, nor have I even jumped off the side of a pool in years. (Part of that now has to do with not wanting to immerse my dreads in water, but that's a conversation for another day.)
I'll jump off of a short wall if I think it's short enough that I won't break my ankle. But I won't jump off a swing. And I don't suppose I would ever, ever, ever, jump out of a plane.
Oh, and I also hate roller coasters. I don't feel like psychoanalyzing myself anymore, so I don't know exactly why, or if that has to do with my "fear". But they're terrifying nevertheless.
Why do I climb the rock wall if I'm scared of jumping off the zip line at the top? Why do I climb ladders even when I really don't want to? Because God did not give me a spirit of timidity, but a spirit of power, of love and self-discipline (2 Timothy 1:7). I climb that ladder because of the spirit of love that causes me to want to serve. I climb that rock wall and jump off the zip line because I want to remind myself that God is in control.
And I jump off the diving board because... never mind, I don't. Ha.
God bless.
I wouldn't exactly say that I have the fear of heights. I can be up in a tall building, or even an airplane, and feel no fear whatsoever. Heck, I sleep on the top bunk of the bed for most of the year.
But I have a thing with ladders, and I have a thing with jumping.
It's hard to define both of them, because not everything about these things scares me.
When it comes to ladders, I am not afraid of ladders themselves. I can look at them, I can be around them. What I am afraid of is climbing them. Sometimes. I think the best way to explain it would be a feeling of insecurity, which means not all ladders scare me, because not all ladders are insecure. But most are.
A ladder that you have to take out, unfold, set up yourself, etc. = bad. How can a lightweight, foldy thing possibly bear my weight? Sometimes at the summer camp I work at, I actually have to climb them, and I always get short of breath and insist that someone hold down the other side and keep it steady. If it is leaning against a wall, that's still not good enough. Someone has to hold onto it from underneath. Believe it or not, even smallish step-ladders make me a bit nervous. Actually, just moveable ladders in general. They're terrifying. I'll climb them, but I'll probably die if I do.
A ladder that is built into a wall or some other sturdy structure = no problem. It's not an issue with myself. I mean, of course I trust my own strength (have you seen my guns?), and if I feel I can trust whatever the ladder is built into, then I'm good. For example, I climbed up the built-in ladder at the end of my bunk bed in my dorm room all the time, because I trusted the bed not to topple over and crush me. But a hook ladder you attach to a bunk bed and can move around--no. That thing is not firmly attached to anything and will probably kill me. Furthermore, the ladder on Turtle Island (the tree loft at my camp) is totally fine with me. It's a big wooden structure that I put my trust in. I even let go of the rungs with both my hands in order to close the door (difficult and sometimes painful to do, but actually not scary).
Now for jumping. I am scared of jumping off of high things usually. The zip line at the climbing wall at camp... no. Well, okay, the zip line itself is fine, even fun, but initially jumping off the platform is basically impossible for me. I actually can't bring myself to do it. The two times I've used the zip line, I had the person at the top push me off.
When I was little, I took swimming lessons, and to pass the course I had to jump off the diving board. Just once. I stood at the end of that board freaking out for who knows how long (seconds? hours? months?) and when it became clear that I couldn't jump off, a lifeguard snuck up behind me and pushed me off so I could pass the class.
I have jumped off a few diving boards in my day, but not many. I haven't done it in years, nor have I even jumped off the side of a pool in years. (Part of that now has to do with not wanting to immerse my dreads in water, but that's a conversation for another day.)
I'll jump off of a short wall if I think it's short enough that I won't break my ankle. But I won't jump off a swing. And I don't suppose I would ever, ever, ever, jump out of a plane.
Oh, and I also hate roller coasters. I don't feel like psychoanalyzing myself anymore, so I don't know exactly why, or if that has to do with my "fear". But they're terrifying nevertheless.
Why do I climb the rock wall if I'm scared of jumping off the zip line at the top? Why do I climb ladders even when I really don't want to? Because God did not give me a spirit of timidity, but a spirit of power, of love and self-discipline (2 Timothy 1:7). I climb that ladder because of the spirit of love that causes me to want to serve. I climb that rock wall and jump off the zip line because I want to remind myself that God is in control.
And I jump off the diving board because... never mind, I don't. Ha.
God bless.
Friday, August 10, 2012
The Color Run
I wrote this a couple weeks ago but haven't edited until now. Sorry for the wait!
For those of you that haven't heard, The Color Run is a 5K race where you where mostly white clothing and every kilometer(ish) people throw powdered paint on you. Each kilometer is a a different color, so by the time you're done, you're a nice little rainbowperson. I went twice: once today, once a week ago.
❧
For those of you that haven't heard, The Color Run is a 5K race where you where mostly white clothing and every kilometer(ish) people throw powdered paint on you. Each kilometer is a a different color, so by the time you're done, you're a nice little rainbowperson. I went twice: once today, once a week ago.
I signed up for one with my mom, who is also a runner, way back in the spring sometime. Then I found out that the camp staff I work with wanted to do it too, so they signed up for one in a town that was a bit closer to camp. That one was a week before the one I was supposed to go to with my mom. I thought about doing both, since I wanted to run with my friends too, but it was fairly expensive and I didn't want to just pay that. So I signed up with my friend Alex to volunteer for the first one.
Alex and I got up at 5 a.m. last Saturday morning to get to town in time to volunteer. We ended up getting a bit lost because of construction on the highway, but finally got there, so they sent us to work at the yellow color zone. Our job was basically to squirt yellow paint at the runners.
It was pretty hectic, and the whole time was like living in a yellow haze, but it was really fun. By the end, we were all out of yellow powder, so we started scooping it up from the piles on the ground and using that, but eventually there wasn't really any substantial amount left on the ground, either.
People were so crazy. They wanted paint all over them and would come up and tell you where they wanted you to squirt it (on their backs, on their face, in their hair, in their cleavage...). When we were low on paint, they rolled around on the ground to get it on them. Their were thousands of them, and most of them weren't even running, but walking.
When it was finally over, Alex and I had to laugh at each other because of how yellow we were. We were pretty much head-to-toe the color of dandelions. It was caked on our skin and we could scrape it off of our faces. Our snot was a freaky orange-ish yellow color. When we took off our shoes, we could pour yellow powder out of them. We washed our clothes that afternoon, and my socks remained a deep yellow color (although, the rest came out pretty well).
It was a good time though, and we got a lot of good laughs. Afterward, Alex and I went out to lunch and ice cream before going back to camp, and since my school was in that town, I gave him a quick tour.
It was pretty hectic, and the whole time was like living in a yellow haze, but it was really fun. By the end, we were all out of yellow powder, so we started scooping it up from the piles on the ground and using that, but eventually there wasn't really any substantial amount left on the ground, either.
People were so crazy. They wanted paint all over them and would come up and tell you where they wanted you to squirt it (on their backs, on their face, in their hair, in their cleavage...). When we were low on paint, they rolled around on the ground to get it on them. Their were thousands of them, and most of them weren't even running, but walking.
When it was finally over, Alex and I had to laugh at each other because of how yellow we were. We were pretty much head-to-toe the color of dandelions. It was caked on our skin and we could scrape it off of our faces. Our snot was a freaky orange-ish yellow color. When we took off our shoes, we could pour yellow powder out of them. We washed our clothes that afternoon, and my socks remained a deep yellow color (although, the rest came out pretty well).
It was a good time though, and we got a lot of good laughs. Afterward, Alex and I went out to lunch and ice cream before going back to camp, and since my school was in that town, I gave him a quick tour.
In the shower, the yellow was all underneath my clothes. It looked like urine was pouring down my legs when the paint got wet and started to run. I washed everything, my hair, face, and body, at least two times, and still had yellow spots when I looked in the mirror afterward.
❧
Then this morning I saw a whole different side of this crazy event. Mom and I got up at 4:15 a.m. (as if the week before hadn't been early enough!) and left within about 20 minutes. I slept in the car a bit, but I was still pretty tired. We went with my friend Aimee and her mother, Lisa and younger brother, Pete. We ended up on the wrong side of town so we showed up to the race pretty late, but we stood in an impossibly long line, got our packets, and off we went.
We stood in line for half an hour after the race started before we actually went, because there were just so many people there. But then we were off, and it was awesome. There were a few times I got a little winded and wanted to walk, but with Mom and Aimee running with me (Lisa and Pete mostly walked, I think), I was able to keep pushing. Also, every time we got paint thrown on us, it gave me another rush of adrenaline to keep going.
The paint stations seemed a little anticlimactic, since I didn't get all that messy, but it was still fun. The 5K itself was somewhat hilly, but the weather was really great if not a little humid toward the end. There was nice scenery pretty much the whole way, since it was through a park and over a river on some bridges. Since most of the people were walking, we had to dodge traffic a lot, but the three of us stayed together.
We stood in line for half an hour after the race started before we actually went, because there were just so many people there. But then we were off, and it was awesome. There were a few times I got a little winded and wanted to walk, but with Mom and Aimee running with me (Lisa and Pete mostly walked, I think), I was able to keep pushing. Also, every time we got paint thrown on us, it gave me another rush of adrenaline to keep going.
The paint stations seemed a little anticlimactic, since I didn't get all that messy, but it was still fun. The 5K itself was somewhat hilly, but the weather was really great if not a little humid toward the end. There was nice scenery pretty much the whole way, since it was through a park and over a river on some bridges. Since most of the people were walking, we had to dodge traffic a lot, but the three of us stayed together.
At the very end, we waited for Lisa and Pete, then they had a "color throw" where we all threw color packets we had got at the beginning into the air and onto each other. That way, if you didn't get super colorful during the race, you were sure to get pretty painted now.
We hung out for a little bit, then left. We saw a bagpipe player on our way out, and it was so beautiful :) We went out to eat for lunch, which was fun(ny) because we still were pretty colorful in the restaurant. Then we went home and showered.
There are ways to preserve colored clothing, but the only thing Mom and I preserved was our previously white headbands. Although the rest of the color washed off our clothes and bodies, we will always have a little bit of color with us.
God bless.
We hung out for a little bit, then left. We saw a bagpipe player on our way out, and it was so beautiful :) We went out to eat for lunch, which was fun(ny) because we still were pretty colorful in the restaurant. Then we went home and showered.
There are ways to preserve colored clothing, but the only thing Mom and I preserved was our previously white headbands. Although the rest of the color washed off our clothes and bodies, we will always have a little bit of color with us.
God bless.
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