Mes Belles Lettres

(c) Alisa Goodwin Snell Image from Borders.com A funny thing happens when you're a Mormon girl and you hit about, oh 23. Suddenly people become very concerned that you're going to die alone. See, us Mormons, we're all about families. Moms and Dads getting married and having babies and raising those babies in happy healthy homes. It is an ideal situation, homes full of children that are taught to eat vegetables, that spend time playing catch with dad, that go to the park with mom. Parents that love each other and aren't afraid to show it and still have date night when their kids are teenagers. Everyone is happy together because they're an eternal family, they love each other and they show it. Very nice. I want that. I doubt there is anyone that doesn't want that. I think even the reality of family, sometimes kids throw tantrums and parents argue, sounds nice when compared to endless alone-ness. So don't get me wrong, I very much want to get married and

Since I bought Stella in 2009 I have had occasion to take her into a service shop. Sometimes these occasions were not her fault. My brakes rusting can be blamed on the salted VT roads. Her new spark plugs were because a mouse ate the other ones. Sometimes it was because of general wear and tear. I've been pretty hard on Stella, driving her across the country several times since purchasing her, and I've put a lot of miles on her. This causes parts to get sad and need fixing. Stella however, has always started. No matter what was wrong I could still drive her. Last winter when we had two solid weeks of temperatures that refused to go higher than 0 degrees Fahrenheit, she started each morning like a trooper. Thus, I have always thought of her as a good little car. The day after I got back to VT I put the key in the ignition and turned it and... click....nothing. It took me a few attempts to start her up. So I decided I would mention that to the people at the dealership since I

I feel like I'm not currently living a real life. This life belongs to someone else, it is not mine. Maybe it belongs to 2009 Renny, or 2010. It certainly does not belong to me. I went to church yesterday. I learned that some people didn't realize that when I said, "I'm going to France in the Fall, then coming back here in the spring to finish my last semester," that what I MEANT was, "I'm going to France in the Fall, then coming back here in the spring to finish my last semester." Thus the question of, "how long are you here?" And the looks of surprise and shock, and the phrase, "oh so you're BACK!" when I said, "until I graduate in May." Maybe I am not back. I feel like I did after reading the 5th Harry Potter book, or after watching the second to last episode of Once Upon a Time. That couldn't possibly be how it ended. I must be in a dream. I went on campus today to print a few things, and I felt like I