The Marvels of Megan's Mind

I read an article about Newt's brilliant plan to colonize the moon. (It could be the 51st state!) I was talking to my kids about how it doesn't seem like it would be that pleasant of a place to live--you know, because of the lack of oxygen and stuff. Also, how could we grow vegetables?

Nathan said, "WHAT?! No vegetables? That means NO GARLIC! And no garlic means NO PIZZA!"

Beth looked up and said, "Cheese! We could just pack some cheese!" We better make sure to pack crackers with that cheese.

Beth's response made me think of Wallace and Gromit. And that led me to remember a recent chat with my sister. She said she was feeling peckish and wanted to eat the Wensleydale cheese in her fridge. Then she added that she couldn't say the word Wensleydale without imagining herself with a British accent...and made of claymation. And then we decided that Nick Park was the best thing to come out of England since the Magna Carta. Or possibly since the Beatles.

I think a valid argument could be made for the Magna Carta. On the other hand, "I Want To Hold Your Hand" has had a significant impact on the world.

And while we're on the subject, I vote for Puerto Rico over the moon. You know, if we want a 51st state. Thinking of Puerto Rico reminds me of one of my best friends from BYU. We used to listen to Puerto Rican music when we would hang out. The only rap I've listened to consistently is in Spanish.

I don't speak Spanish. It would be a useful language to know. But I chose to study Welsh. That's certainly come in handy. Dw i'n byw yn Dinas Llyn Halen. See? That means I live in Salt Lake City.

I typed that sentence in then thought I'd better check my spelling. So I typed the same sentence into a Welsh to English online translator. It came back saying something about I heartburn live in crooked City Salt Lake. Which means one of two things: online translators leave a little to be desired or I spelled something wrong. So, I looked it up. For unknown reasons I keep a Welsh language guide on my headboard/bookshelf.

You would think I would have learned my lesson and decided to help my kids learn a useful language, like Spanish. But I think it's more meaningful if they learn Hawaiian. I've had difficulty finding a good Hawaiian language tutorial. But I just found a place very near my house that teaches Hawaiian language classes! As well as Hawaiian culture and dance. And they have parties!

You may be wondering how I found that place. Last summer, Sarah's halau (that means place to learn hula) suddenly closed. They needed to find a new studio. For weeks, we called her teacher every week to find out if they were dancing that night or not. The owner of the halau told us he would let us know when they started up again. So we have been waiting. We're tired of waiting. I emailed the teacher, Aunty Kaui, to ask her advice. She told me to try out the Hawaiian Cultural Center, which is very near where I live. That is where I found a place not only to dance but to learn a language! So, one of these days, we'll get started. I'm shy. I don't like to try new things.

Speaking of the halau closing on us reminds me of something else. Last summer, the kids' piano teacher had to let us go, the dance studio closed on us, and my yoga teacher got sick and quit. The kids were also taking a yoga class from her. We went from a busy life to having nothing to do. I started to get a complex since we didn't quit anything, they quit us. (Just kidding, piano teacher who is reading this.)

I would teach the kids the piano myself, but our piano is in storage. We have a keyboard here, but I find it difficult to use. I hate it.

Do you want to know my piano story? One year for Christmas, Chris and I agreed to spend $25 on each others' presents. I bought him a vegetable chopper thing. He bought me a piano. I felt a little foolish. His vegetable chopper wasn't even electric. Turns out, he had bought the piano months before for only $100! It was quite run-down, but had a good soundboard. He refinished it himself. It was a gift of love. And I got to pick the color! I chose a dark brown (Chris would have chosen a lighter color) and I chose a dull finish. I don't like a shiny piano. I don't like shiny things.

Which is probably why I was glad that Chris gave me an engagement ring made of handcarved wood instead of some shiny metal thing. It was beautiful.

This blentry brings to mind "stream of consciousness" which reminds me of a thread of hilarious comments we had once on a Facebook group. The thread was called "Jacob's stream of consciousness." Thinking about that reminds me of Tom Swifty.

I would include an example of a Tom Swifty here, but I never was very good at them. And so, with that, my thinking is finished.