I Miss My Home

I miss my home. I miss everything about it. Provo has nothing of my home in it. My home has a smell. In the summer months you can smell the water in the air from the pipe. You can smell the exhaust from the tractors. The air smells of warm work. In fall, you can smell fresh cut grass anywhere you go. You can smell alfalfa, grain and later the straw--you can smell the difference. In winter, you can't smell anything at all. It is so cold that everything loses its scent. If you sniff, the inside of your nose will freeze, so even if there were a floating smell, you wouldn't know it. In spring, you smell rancidness. Dairy farms are thawing and the sewer ponds, too. I miss my home. My home looks like nothing else. The land is flat until you raise your eyes ever so slightly and all that's visible is a wall of mountains surrounding you in an oval. Behind those mountains are just more mountains. It is a bowl of mountains. A cup of mountains. An upside down hub cap used to feed the dog. You see a patch work quilt of fields separated not by stitching and batting, but by battered fences that sink somewhere in the middle, but neither neighbor will fix that part. You see animals. Cows, black, white, red and grey. You see horses. Well-trained quarter horses, sway-backed nags, powerful draft horses and shoddy Shetlands. You see trucks in the fields and tractors on the road. You see your neighbor, and you wave. I miss my home. My home has a sound. In winter, you hear snow plows scraping, sparking, grumbling, tearing down the road. You hear the snow fall. Piling up the banks. Piling on the roof, the cars, the cows, the fence posts. You hear the constant hum of tractors in the summer. You hear the che-che-che-che of the pipe's song. I'll never forget that sound. It was my bed-time song for 18 years. I miss my home.

Cheat, Steal and Lie

A little history lesson from my life: Pollyanna

Pollyanna is a board game that my family plays religiously. In fact, it is the only game my family plays. Apart from a few failed games of Clue with Dayna when we were younger, Pollyanna is the only board game I have ever played. No Scrabble, no Monopoly, no Sorry, Trouble or Life.

Just Pollyanna. The problem with this is that Pollyanna creates contention, cheating and anger. Without fail somebody always throws the board, their dice, their Diet Coke or their chair. It's a violent game of cheating and lying, and I am not above any of it.

Not only do we play one game of Pollyanna, but we have double games. Twice the fights.

This is a terrible situation. Not only do we have a blockie (double pieces on one square which prevents all other pieces from passing), but we have a triple blockie. They are blocking blockies. Good game plan.

Annnnnnnd this is how it ends. Fighting, pointing and lying defenses.

This is why I don't play games anymore. I was raised to cheat, steal and lie my way to winning in Pollyanna. I've discussed cheating methods with my dad, and watched many boards hit the ceiling as pieces and dice rained down.

Moral of the story: Cheat, Steal and Lie