"The Occasional Moth"*

* I don't remember the exact context of this quote, but it was decided that "The Occasional Moth" would be a great title for a story. I'll start with a blog entry. 

We made it to California! After many prayers and crossed fingers and worried checking of internet weather/road reports, we ended up on the shuttle to the Salt Lake Airport, where we flew out to the sunny shores of the San Francisco Bay Area without incident. And since we all know it wasn't REALLY awesome unless you blog about it (I hate that)**, here's the blog. So with pictures, captions, and quotes, here's our Thanksgiving Break!

There were many memorable moments, but here are the highlights:

Beckah, Jacob and I spent Friday taking San Francisco by storm! There we:

Looked at tall buildings, saw a segway tour brigade, rode a carousel in Golden Gate Park...

(I love that picture of Jacob in the bottom right corner. He's so cute.)

...visited with fishes in the Rainforest Cafe, rode a ferry, saw weird things on the sidewalk, saw a charming baker that reminded us of Jacob's dad...

...and visited the Haight-Ashbury (of course), where Jacob blissfully spent $60 and an hour in Amoeba Music (which I have been looking forward to introducing him to since I met him).

But of course, we most enjoyed spending time with family.

We also saw Harry Potter:

And Jacob escaped from Alcatraz (sort of):

 

And many witty things were said. Exhibit A:

"Nothing fights anti-Semitism like nudity." --Me, last year (I don't remember this, but was reminded of it over dinner)

"You'll be pleased to know that I often mistake the picture of you in your room for a drumstick." -- Ernest

"Hiccups are like gnomes. They're surprising, and annoying, and there are always more of them than you want there to be." --Jenny Mae

"Every time I see the Land o' Lakes lady, it reminds me of a party I went to when always having an exacto-knife in my pocket finally paid off." --Ernest

"Only short people can be Muslim." --Me (I wasn't being closed-minded...this facetious statement came from a discussion of Burka sizes.)

Ernest: I'm a vegetarian.
Lenna: What? Since when?
Ernest: Since 1976.

In conclusion, here are the creative results of a story-writing game we played with my step-dad's side of the family after Thanksgiving dinner. Each person writes a sentence or two, then folds the paper so that the next person can only read the last line and continue the story.

STORY #1: A Tale of Coffee

Once upon a time, a large multi-colored blacksmith found himself surrounded by hostile poultry! “My only hope of survival,” he mused, “is to befuddle them with my intelligence or dazzle them with my footwork.” Intelligence won’t work—need to check the temperature in the carrot soufflé. It was perfect. Now there was nothing left but the coffee. Perhaps a special guacamole cappuccino would do the trick. So, very carefully and with utmost care, they packed the concoction into the baby’s diaper, and cried “I shall give $5000 to the first person who kisses me!” Everyone gasped, then stood in silence for two solid minutes. Finally, one lone voice pealed out wildly with a horrible shrieking scream of delight. The crowd glanced around amongst themselves, asking one another if the scream came from among them. One person jumped right out of their knit pink sweater, and then gasped at the puddle of salmon-colored wool. The one who screamed was completely non-plussed. Then, the yarn shifted diagonally and the afghan pattern no longer contained the secret pattern that would save the world. Therefore, when the fires were bright and the waters were rising, they gathered at the cliff’s edge and gazed out towards the horizon. Just when the ferrets launched their orchestrated invasion of doom and disaster, the protagonist turned around to enjoy pie and coffee with the queen.

STORY #2: An Explanation

She aimed the shotgun, pulled the trigger, and hit him in the chest. He deserved it, but she knew she was in trouble. Should she tell him the truth? Should she PAY the library fines? Should she use her trust fund to bankroll sufficient plastic surgery to render her unrecognizable? Only she made a terrible mistake. She went to the wrong address and who should she find but the ghost of her late father. He spoke with quiet authority and unexpected levity to the area filled with color-blind dwarves. But they were remarkably resourceful and able to outwit the gladiators with strategically placed incendiary devices. Just when the lions and penguins were about to be released, their panic mounting at the end of their rope, pants on fire, resulting in even worse wedgies than they would have had under circumstances less tense and fiery. The over-spicy curry was not helping anyone at all. They were all distressed over the excess of spices that covered the dining room table, deciding to sweep it onto the turkey and hope that nobody noticed. Governer Spinelli, however, did notice, and sneezed directly onto the kneecaps of the police officer standing nearby. “That’s it!” said he. “You are under arrest for besmirching the kneecaps of an honorable civil servant, who has just admitted to puncturing your fire trucks’ tires!” Outraged by this cowardly act, he grabbed the civil servant by his lime green cravat and threw him down the stairs. He was glad he was wearing his inflatable Sumo-wrestler suit, for it prevented many bumps and bruises. And that was how tapioca was invented.



** For the record, that's not why I'm blogging about our Thanksgiving Break. I'm blogging about our Thanksgiving Break because there are friends and family members who will want to hear about it, so rather than sending out two dozen e-mails and telling stories over and over again, I write. Because I like writing. And I blog to help me become a better writer. (I also really like Piknik.com and wanted another excuse to utilize it.)

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"The Occasional Moth"*