Day: June 9, 2007

Nervous

On Monday I’m off to the BYU Writing for Young Readers workshop. I’ll have the chance to pitch Hold On To Your Horses to two editors and an agent who will probably all say “No Thanks.” This is fine. But a piece of me whispers “What if.” I wish that part would shut up so that I wouldn’t be so nervous. I’m worried that I’ll fail when thrown into this unfamiliar social environment. I will not know anyone else there. Will I really be able to introduce myself to people and make contacts? I still remember vividly how at Penguicon in 2005 I was socially lost without Howard to guide me. I hope that I have grown since then. I hope I’ve gotten better at making conversation with strangers. I hope that I succeed at this. There is a little voice which is convinced that I’ll fail miserably. I wish that voice would shut up too.

Apache

When a wide-eyed, urgent Gleek ran to me shouting “Mommy! You have to come and see!” I wasn’t very impressed. Usually this behavior means that she wants to show me a mushroom or how she can jump off the swing. But then she announced that a big brown helicopter had landed in the church parking lot only two blocks from our house.

She was so urgent and insistent, that I took her to go and see. Sure enough, an apache helicopter was sitting in the parking lot at our church. It had already acquired a crowd of curious onlookers and a police cruiser to help manage the onlookers. Apparently the apache was on its way to be part of a parade when some tell-tales told the pilot to land NOW. When I arrived they were waiting for a mechanic to show up. While they waited the two pilots were happily letting kids climb on the chopper and explaining how everything works. Gleek was in heaven. She chattered with the pilots and climbed up on the chopper. In no time at all, she was an expert on everything.

I stood back and watched Gleek as she explored the chopper. The juxtaposition of petite little girl in a pink nightgown and blonde ponytail perched up on that olive drab military chopper was very interesting. Several times her antics made some kind adult reach up and lift her down. I guess she was making others nervous. I wasn’t nervous. I’ve seen her do much more daring things a million times before. She really is a strong little monkey.

When the mechanic arrived, all the spectators were asked to step back. He changed out a few parts then they fired up the engines and ran the blades for a bit. Then they changed out a couple more parts. Eventually they fixed the problem sufficiently that the chopper could take off. As I saw the huge machine take to the sky I marveled at the wonders of modern engineering. The chopper was huge with millions of working parts. It may be odd of me, but for a moment I was glad that we have a military so that we can support such beautiful and amazing machines. I think it was even more beautiful for the fact that no effort was made to make it shiny or pretty. That apache was a work machine, built to do a job. I get some of this same feel whenever I watch construction machines at work.

The apache lifted off, blowing a cloud of dust at everyone. Then it roared off into the sunset. Literally. I lost sight of it because the setting sun was in my eyes. Then in the cool evening Gleek and I walked home together. I’m so glad I took the hour to go and see what Gleek was excited about.

Kiki came home

This past week Kiki has been attending Girl’s Camp. This is where the church youth group leaders take all the girls aged 12-18 for a 5 day trip to a camp in the mountains. It was not Kiki’s first time away from home for an extended period of time, but for whatever reason we all missed her a lot during the past week. Gleek and Patches were both counting down days until she returned. Link planned a special surprise for when she got back. I even cleaned up her room and folded her clothes for her. I worried that she would be cold and miserable. I wanted her to enjoy girls camp as much as I always did as a teen.

Today she came charging in the front door, reeking of campfire and dirt. Her face was sunburned and her chin had been scraped and her hair was a tangly mess. But her smile made all those things fade away. She glowed with the wonderful time she had and with the joy of being back home. Everyone clustered around her and hugged her. Then we sent her quickly to the shower. I’m so glad to have her back. Things feel right again.