after weeks of saying goodbyes

i'm getting closer to saying my last goodbye for a while

except for i emailed my travel person at church headquarters and she said my visa hasn't been issued yet. sooooo...awesome. starting to wonder what's going to happen to me.

there are a few possibilities:

a. i'll get my visa magically on wednesday and go to the preston mtc on thursday as planned.

b. i'll be sent to the provo mtc for a week or maybe all three weeks.
i. they'll call tomorrow and tell me i have a flight on wednesday instead of thursday. awesome.

c. they'll make me wait another week in which case i will go to salt lake for conference with my family.

d. as a loyal friend promised me, i'll be reassigned to boise. gooooooooood.

in the meantime i am shopping for suitcases and my mother is letting down the hem of skirts and rachel and i are planning how we can fit all of our favorite cafes into the meals of my last couple of days. my dad and i are going golfing today, ellie and i are going for one of our last runs together, it is finally sunny outside so i'll probably lay out by the pool while i read preach my gospel. and every night is squeeze-as-many-movies-as-possible-before-they-are-forbidden night. so far it has been: bright star (about john keats. veeery good.), robin hood, coco before chanel (i keep thinking about this one. SO GOOD. actress from amelie...so enough said), and casablanca. i'mma miss all this.

my favorites of rachel's senior picture shoot yesterday:

my fave:

one more thing, my mother has offered to post my weekly emails, or at least parts of them on my blog. maybe even pictures...is that of interest to anyone?

pretty farewell party. pasties, tea, roses, pretty linens and macarons.

thanks family for a fun weekend! yaaaay.

airport: the means of uniting them

eh... or us? i don't know.

first thing's first. apparently from the evidence below, i'm the only one who thinks i'm funny. no surprises there. thanks for the courtesy laughs, family.

2nd, my mother looks like her sister vicki when she wears these glasses:

aaannnd, kind of important, my sister cami came home from an 18th month mission in finland. we came prepared to make cami's entry as triumphal as elder kessler's (if you haven't seen saturday's warrior, curse thee) by making a banner she could run through!

please note jess' face. and if you already have, note it again.

happy happy reunions:

please notice here that every person is smiling while they watch cami hugging rachel. which is so awesome! but even MORE awesome is that no one in my family or the friends that came to greet cami on thursday know who that short, dark-haired woman is. second to the right. but she's just as excited. Boom!

one more thing: cami kept staring at jess, rachel and me because we were being just a LITTLE bit loud and giggly because we were so excited. apparently finnish people don't act anywhere close to as loud as we did unless they are drunk. sometimes i love that about the u.s.. and usually it's always.

i only wish lauren could have been here. but we can only look forward to reunions next weekend. dee dee dee!!!

also! thanks hemsleys and lymans for the pics!

So...today Rachel and I decided to have a photo shoot.

I made her bring her point shoes.

Rachel is my little sister who is sixteen and makes me nervous when she's driving but I try so hard not to act nervous and try to be supportive because I hated it (and still do hate it) when my sisters get nervous when I'm driving. But she actually is a pretty good driver. And she's kind of good at ballet. Today in Eugene it was freezing and foggy, and we had talked about doing a photoshoot yesterday or the day before or something. We decided it would be really great to take some pictures in the fog, so I made Rachel wash her hair and change her clothes after we went running and I also made her bring some old point shoes. We both felt awesome because we felt like Rachel was a real model, braving cold and discomfort like the models on ANTM. Her fingers were so numb that it was almost impossible to tie the knots on the ribbons of her point shoes. And her toes were completely numb. But it was so much fun I think for both of us to pretend we were at a real photo shoot! We were so cold at the end that we jumped into the car and then jumped into the hottub. mmm

And also, I was taking pictures of Rachel, and I think I may have said at one point: "Rachel, I am so jealous that you can make your body do that!" and then I remembered she has been practicing making her body do that for about the last eight, nine, ten years? or something? Take a look...

Thanks for a fun day Rach!

okay okay okay okay okay

sorry mother
I know you were just making a joke that I took to heart just because it takes a bit of time to write out these little posts and it takes a bit more to upload photos and and arrange them just so. So actually it is a bit of a time investment and that's why I was a little bit ticked. It reminded me of that one time after I got my ACT results and was ONE POINT away from having a full scholarship, and I only got a half scholarship, and you said, "you just lost yourself nineteen hundred dollars" because you thought it was hilarious! And I did not. And I thought writing that on the bottom of my post was hilarious. And you did not. So mother, I am sorry. Very sorry, and maybe the reason I get so upset about these things is because they are usually true. Yep, I did lose myself $1900, and yes, my blog really is not that important. So I am sorry for writing that because I love you so much and I know you were making a joke!

And I promise to write about you every post for this whole month of December even though my blog doesn't really matter. Which I know. And knew even before you told me :)

Starting today.

My mom (and dad) brought me here when I think I was six...? Maybe five, or maybe seven.

We spent a couple of days in the Loire Valley in our wood-paneled chrysler van, going from chateau to chateau. I even remember climbing out of the car to go to Chambord and telling my dad, "I don't like these kind of days when we drive in the car for a just a little bit and then get out and then have to get in and out again." I remember my dad looking at me so confusedly, like "you don't?" and all I could think was that it was obvious that I would rather either stay in the car most of the day and sleep/watch the landscape, or walk around most of the day. It was a hard transition to do that all day without getting exhausted. But give me a break. I was only six! And as soon as I got inside the chateau, I'm pretty sure I loved it. But this chateau, Chenonceau, was my favorite, and has been since.

I went to it on Saturday by myself. It took about eight hours of travel time total, but it was really fun, and I like riding trains, and I was trying to say goodbye to them. I wrote in my journal and read my book and listened to my ipod and I really loved it. I got to the chateau and it was rainy and cloudy. I went to the maze first, and I could see over the hedges this time. There was no reason I would hit a dead-end this time, and the obstacles happened to be trying to get around enormous puddles rather than trying to find my way to the middle. I remember it was actually difficult last time. Or maybe that was a different maze that we did that was actually hard, but my mom was nice and let me choose which way we would go, or would let one of my sisters choose while I followed, my long straight hair bouncing up and down while I probably chased after them giggling hysterically the way little kids do in that navy blue sweatshirt I had gotten in Switzerland. What ever happened to the sweatshirt, mother?

I do remember that after a while I was hungry and I was ready to go, so I came up to my mom and said something annoying like, "mommy can we PLEEEEASE gooo...." and mother was just looking at the chateau. I think Cami wasn't happy about something. I can't remember what. So Mother was waiting until Father was done talking to Cami. The sun was setting over the chateau and I looked at her looking at the chateau, and I could tell that she thought it was really really beautiful. So I looked at it too, looked at the beautiful arches over the water, and it's reflection, and I remembered to myself that this was the most beautiful chateau I had ever seen, with the yellow light on the wall of the chateau and the orange sky reflected in the water.

It was about fifteen years later when I came again. (Isn't that weird that I can say "fifteen years later" and it's legitimate? Old.) I couldn't spend very much time in the gardens, but I had given myself about five hours to be here, which was kind of a long time. And the entrance fee was eight euros. I ended up sitting in the hallway over the bridge and writing in my journal for a long time because it was so rainy.

I looked at the windows in the hallway and remembered how last time I was here I was not tall enough to look out and see out of the window without jumping, or I may have made that up as I sometimes do with my memory without realizing it.

And my mom came and picked me up when she saw me jumping and said things like, "look! there's the river, and you can see the gardens over there, and there's the island in the middle of the river," pointing out each of those things with her eyes at my eye level. And then our whole family, all seven of us walked down that black and white tiled hallway, or maybe we were running again, like I saw all of those little kids doing on saturday, or maybe we were hopping from black square to black square, but we were probably making the museum people nervous like we usually did, all five of us who were age eleven or younger, but we liked being in chateaux, because I think all of us could feel like princesses, looking out the windows imperiously and sauntering down the stones stairs with our arms outstretched like ballerinas.

Vingt.

Today is the first day that I am twenty years old. I am in my twenties. My mom had been dating my dad for a year when she was my age. That's weird. I am the same age as Elizabeth Bennet. She is supposed to be older and have a level of maturity that i will not attain until fifteen years from now. And now anything I accomplish seems like it will be expected, because I am twenty, and no longer a teenager. It feels like there aren't really excuses anymore.

This morning I awoke from my bed that leans against a wall facing my wardrobe where my clothes face me, instead of facing the sides of the wardrobe. "It's my birthday today," I told myself, and I smiled. Because it really didn't feel like my birthday. Last week felt like my birthday when my family went to the coast

and then a few days later my mother made an ice cream cake with the smoothest real banana-ey flavored ice cream and brownie chunks. possibly my favorite ice cream in the world. They sang happy birthday and I got a camera to take to Paris, and they wrote me beautiful cards. But today was my real birthday, and I knew that the situation was less than ideal, even though many girls felt jealous that I was spending my birthday in Paris. Angela even told me she almost came to Paris next semester just so she could spend her birthday here.

But alas, it is the curse of having a birthday within the first week of school that really makes this all so strange. Birthdays in the past, I have invited people to my party whom I would like to be friends with, whom I think I will be friend with, and then by the end of the year, it's awkward that they were at my birthday party. Especially when I wasn't invited to theirs. I have since given up raising my expectations, and things usually are great! Last year I planned my birthday party at the tumbling gym, and I made people dress up like super-heroes and do embarrassing things.

This morning I smiled, looking around at my old wardrobe that requires an old key (that will be REALLY hard for me not to take with me and make into a necklace), to old wood dressers (one of which requires a key as well), an old desk with wooden drawers that have holes between the slats, and my favorite part--a window that overlooks the street, and a market area which was filled with people and food and clothes this morning. Wearing my white, cotton pajamas, I walked to the window, slid open the curtains, and stuck my head out into the street, leaning on the iron rail, looking at the huge monument of the Bastille that marks the place where the revolution started, and feeling a nice, cool breeze on my face. I felt like Lucy Honeychurch in the adaptation of A Room With a View with Maggie Smith, and I almost wanted someone to come tell me to get dressed dear, or the better part of the day will be gone.

I decided that a beautiful picnic at Versailles and bike rides would be a beautiful birthday. But alas, no one brought a change of clothes to church, so we decided to go to the gay bakery (and I am not just saying that, they are proud of it, with rainbow balloons, and wedding cake toppers of two men or two women, and "baguettes magique" that are pretty much the grossest shaped bread I've ever seen.) and then to the Eiffel Tower for a picnic. On the metro on the way there, there was a girl dressed in the most ridiculous pink dress, and a huge pink bow on top of her head, and her friend wore a black dress and cat ears. I heard them talking with american accents, and I wondered if there was a party, or a special bar they were going to, and hearing people speaking english after three hours of straight french, I was bold.

I leaned over because I was standing right next to her, and said, "Why are you dressed up like that?"

And she looked at my with an annoyed face and said, "I always dress like this."

All I could do was say, "oh! that's cool." And I looked away, spawning responses from my future friends such as, "way to go, Emma." I didn't look at the pink girl the rest of the time, and almost changed to the car behind us.

There was another mishap, where no one got off at the stop that someone at church told us to get off at, and so it was just me and Amelia walking to the Eiffel Tower by ourselves. I felt a little bit angry, the way I always do when I believe people when they say everything should be perfect on my birthday. This was not what I planned, and neither were the ominous clouds above the eiffel tower. I struggled to find something to talk about with her, until I found out she was also an English Major. We ended up talking about her advanced writing class--Technical Writing, which I didn't really know about, and it turns out it is the most boring thing on the planet. I was intrigued by her taking a whole class on it just because it was so boring. She said she had thought about doing it as a career. People, technical writing=writing manuals, not manuals for writing, but actually writing a manual. And I remembered all those directions I've read for my camera, computer, everything, and that is what technical writing is. I imagined Amelia revising, "Place camera lens cap on lens by squeezing the the tabs on the sides of the cap," over and over until it was perfectly clear, precise, and direct. It baffled my that any english major would want to make that a career. Apparently, she figured out what seemed obvious to me after taking the class and doing an internship. And that's what I did while I ate my birthday lunch--three fourths of a baguette, next to the eiffel tower.

After about a half hour, I wondered why the rest of the twelve or so people were not looking for me. I reminded them in my head that we were only here because it was MY birthday. Finally Amelia and I got up and they were sitting just fifty yards away, not having the slightest inkling to look for me. I was annoyed, but you can't get mad at people you've met three days before, or else they hate you for the rest of your life.

When Cami, my roommate and I, got back from this, we both took two and a half hour naps, which was one of my favorite parts of today. And I don't mean that sarcastically at all. Other parts of the day were great, or normal, but I really do love napping, and I have been jetlagged. I closed the curtains again and then opened them when I woke up, and heard the bells from Notre Dame ringing out across the old buildings and markets and pidgeons and probably that girl dressed as a giant pink toddler. We walked around and got egg, ham and cheese crêpes, and a gelato-filled pastry. All of this was right next to our metro stop. Dangerous. We walked around and found that a street next to ours is a very popular place for bars, and we found some ghetto super markets.

I don't think I have ever not cried on my birthday. I didn't mean to, I really didn't want to, but I did. While I was video chatting with Lauren, and she was talking to my mom on the phone, and my mom told me there was a heat wave in Eugene, so their internet hasn't worked at all since I left. That explains why they have not yet responded to the three emails I have sent them since I have been here, and that I haven't heard from them at all today. It's okay. I really really am not wanting you to feel bad for me, or anything, and I don't mean to say that I am a spoiled brat either. And I don't want you to try to comfort me, or tell me that you understand but that I'm in Paris in a lofty tone people usually adopt. I really am fine. It was a good day. It's just another birthday.

And instead of going to the tumbling gym, or the coast, or having a swim party and a cereal bar, I went to the Eiffel Tower with some people I basically met last week, and ate delicious food. Cami insisted on buying my dessert after dinner, and it was fun to walk around and talk to her. But birthdays are weird. And I don't know if I'm ready to stop being a teenager.