My aunt (who's more like a big sister to me, when you consider the age difference) is getting married this weekend. The whole family is going to be flowing out to Nebraska in waves. The first wave leaves tomorrow, taking my mom with it. She's packing now, and as I sit and write this blog post and listen to her bustling about, everything feels a little unnatural. In just a few short days the second wave will sweep me off to the plains, but for now I sit in the half-uncomfortable eye of the storm.
My sister and I will get to see if we can stay on top of the dishes by ourselves. (Dad does dishes only in emergencies.)
I spent $8 this weekend on the soundtrack for How to Train Your Dragon, and I consider it to be the best purchase I've made in months. Most soundtracks I am acquainted with have tracks that seem to consist of semi-disconnected notes that aren't really enjoyable to listen to outside a movie theater. This soundtrack, however, has so many perfectly delightful tracks that I have trouble keeping track (sorry, bad pun) of them all. The music is upbeat, adventurous, awe-inspiring, and soul-stirring, with a gorgeous celtic theme woven throughout. Tracks like This is Berk and See You Tomorrow are filled with rollicking yet engaging energy, while Test Drive and Coming Back Around make you feel like you are flying. In any case, the number of amazing tracks far outpaces the number of dollars you have to lay down to own the mp3 album. Buy it.
This week has been full of magnificent thunderstorms, rolling off of the mountains in purple clouds that make your heart beat faster. For once they've actually paused to pour blessed rain into this dry climate -- sometimes gently, other times hurling it down so hard that water abandons the gutter for the sidewalk and you can see the raindrops bounce off the pavement. Between the clouds, the moisture, and my new soundtrack, I've been living in my own poet's paradise.
I'm sorry that I'll have to leave it for a 7-hour drive of glaring yellow flatness. Pray that the good Lord will send me mental forests to keep my mind off of it.