Monday, December 19, 2016

Mama's Best Star Wars Recipe

by Erica P.

Jedi Master why wish you become? Watching Star Wars much like Yoda’s speech it is. Begin in middle you must, for if once you start down the dark path, forever will it dominate your destiny. Consume you it will, as it did Obi-Wan’s apprentice- and a true Jedi Master (or lover of Star Wars) never may you become.

Ingredients:
Star Wars, Episode I: The Phantom Menace
Star Wars, Episode II: Attack of the Clones                           
Star Wars, Episode III: Revenge of the Sith               
Star Wars, Episode IV: A New Hope                           
Star Wars, Episode V: The Empire Strikes Back                    
Star Wars, Episode VI: Return of the Jedi (1983 edition)
Star Wars, Episode VII: The Force Awakens
TV
DVD/Blue Ray Player
**Optional: blanket, dog(s), light saber

*Prepare viewing area either couch or recliner are best for viewing, but a comfy spot on the floor will also work. DO NOT VIEW IN BED.

Directions:

1.      Place Episodes I, II, & III into small basket. Leave in cases. Let sit until viewing of Episodes IV, V, & VI are complete. *Jedi Master Tip: Place cell phone into this basket for optimal immersion into cinematic adventure.

2.      Once Episodes I, II, & III are safely into basket, place Episode IV: A New Hope into correct player. *Don’t forget to remove all plastic.  Get into desired movie viewing area (add blanket and dogs if desired). Press Play. Do not leave seat for 125 minutes. NOTE: The beginning music is LOUD! You may want to turn the volume down slightly if sleeping babies are around. No need for this if elderly visitors are watching with you, they know what is about to happen. Also, the opening message is NOT a good time for a bathroom break, or to be fighting with dogs about who gets to be comfortable- get that done EARLY!

3.      Go to bathroom BEFORE you get your phone. Wash hands.

4.      Check on Episodes I, II, & III in basket- DO NOT take out of basket! You’re just making sure someone hasn’t moved them. This is also a good time to check your phone.

5.      Congratulations! You just found Wookieepedia!! **Quick reference: those were called Jawa and the planet’s name is Tatooine. Stop making Wookiee noises at your dogs, they don’t understand what you’re saying.

6.      Set your alarm for whatever time you have to get up tomorrow morning and then PUT YOUR PHONE BACK IN THE BASKET! There’ll be time for Wookieepedia later. Besides, canon has changed, Disney owns Star Wars now. 

7.      Place Episode V: The Empire Strikes Back into the dvd/blue ray player. Return to your viewing area, push play. Yes, it is nearly impossible to watch A New Hope without immediately watching The Empire Strikes Back.  Do not leave seat for 127 minutes.

8.      Go to bed. What you are experiencing right now is not The Force, it’s just your feels, and you’re ALL in them.  Ready are you for Return of the Jedi? What know you of ready?  Adventure?  Excitement? A Jedi craves not these things! You are reckless! *Marinate minimum of 18 hours before watching Return of the Jedi.

9.      PUT YOUR PHONE DOWN, Laser Brain! Wookieepedia will be there tomorrow! Control, control, you must learn control! 

10.  Once you’ve 1) come to terms with whether or not you hate Lando and 2) you’ve decided if you think it would be cool to have Darth Vader as your father, it’s time to watch Episode VI: Return of the Jedi. Repeat Step 2, substituting RotJ for ANH.  Do not leave seat for 136 minutes.

11.  You may now begin watching all 7 episodes in order beginning with Episode I. **Caution: Episodes I, II, & III are the onions of Star Wars: you may hate them, but they’re necessary to get the dish just right.


**Best served binge watching on a rainy, cool weekend. Can be repeated as many times as desired.

Twin B

by Katie R.

When we were born, Mom was surprised she had two.
To tell you the truth, I don’t think I could have survived without you.

When we were two, we moved to the East.
You stopped hitting me with the bottle and we started to speak.

When we were three, I sat on our cake.
Everyone else made fun of me, but you didn’t partake.

When we were four, you cut your hair.
We had to wear silly hats so people wouldn’t stare.

When we were five, it was time to learn.
I tried to teach you the alphabet, because I was concerned.

When we were six, you were afraid of plenty.
We slept with the lights on, I held your hand even though it was sweaty.

When we were eight, our sister moved away.
I listened to you cry every night, I didn’t know what to say.

When we were nine, you tried out different vocations.
Whether a professional whistler, or jump-roper I met it with congratulations.

When we were thirteen, people at church couldn’t tell us apart.
We were just the Roberts siblings who were all sweethearts.

When we were eighteen, we started university.
You fell in love with a Nelson who started adversity.

When we were nineteen, that Nelson kid broke your heart.
You dropped out of college and got a fresh start.

Now that we’re twenty-one, I can truly say.
You’re my best friend, I love watching you grow each day.
Most people don’t know what it’s like.
To have someone there, even when you’re scared at night.
Thanks for laughing at my jokes, and making life carefree.

You’re my favorite part of everything, Twin B.

Being a Sister

by Lindsey T.

It’s been 19 years down this road.
Let me tell ya, it hasn’t always been easy.

My tyrant of a brother came roaring into my life
after two and a half years of blissful living.

And since that day,
there hasn’t been a package of Oreos that I could certainly call mine.

And since that day,
I’ve had my defenses up against that 200lb beast of a boy
who made a hobby out of sitting on me.

As if my parents hadn’t put me through enough,
another Taylor child graced the world with her presence.

And graceful she was,
smiling as person after person
Oohhed and ahhhed at her mere existence.

Little did those oohers and ahhhers know
this smiling baby girl was not so precious
at 3 am this morning.

That little boy’s love of food did become
my greatest ally anytime mom let us go to the grocery store.

And there was that time he helped me climb to the top of that huge tree,
and that time we discovered our own mountain bike course, created just for us,
and that time we bladed around the garage because it was raining too hard and mom wouldn’t let us leave the house.

Come to think of it, we spent most of our days playing together.

And while most never saw the fussy nights we had to endure for that baby girl,
they also never got to see our secret giggles during nap time
or the endless funny faces we have been able to create together.

You see, being a sister is a hard job,
but if you can stick it out for as long as I have,

you will surely find some hidden treasures along the way.

Mutual Glee

by Jane B.

My thirteen-year-old daughter’s homework is done and I’m finished responding to emails; we smile knowingly at each other as we move to the family room.  Curled up on the couch, remotes ready, two hot chocolates on the coffee table, and a big fuzzy, knitted blanket over our legs: we fire up the Netflix.

We’re only three seasons in to a five-season show.  How did we miss this show when it came out? It’s no longer on the air; but it’s all new to us.

Cassie and I giggle with excitement when we hear the familiar beginning to each episode: “So here’s what you missed on Glee.” We’ve come to love each of these characters: Finn, Rachel, Kurt, Puck, Lauren, Quinn, Tina, Artie, Blaine, Santana, Brittany, Mike, Mercedes, Will Schuester, and Sue Sylvester. Each teenage character is an archetype.  There are jocks, bullies, cheerleaders, homosexuals, goths, nerds, overweight kids, and kids with disabilities. I am amazed though, how the show simultaneously maintains and destroys these stereotypes.  It’s as if the show’s writers decided to acknowledge, yet complicate the labels teenagers assign themselves.  No character is entirely good nor entirely bad.  Each of the characters deserve acceptance, respect, and love.

Cassie and I swooned, clapped, and hugged when Kurt kissed Blaine, when Emma confronted her obsessive compulsive disorder, and when Puck fell in love with the large, sassy Lauren.  Our favorite character is Brittany, the self-labeled stupid girl with a heart of gold.  We love Brittany’s quirky fashion sense and we often pick up an iPad to search for Brittany-look-a-like clothing on the web. 

We typically only watch one episode an evening.  I think we’re trying to prolong the enjoyment.   We don’t want it to end.  But we’ve looked ahead, and we know that someday we will reach the show’s final episode.  That will be a sad day. We will miss the characters. The songs. The romances.

But I think I will mourn the end of our shared satisfaction most.  Sitting close together, we snuggle, I play with her hair, she kisses me on the cheek.  When she grows up, will she recall how we bonded over a teenage comedy?  I hope so. 

So I'm looking for another Netflix show we can share when Glee ends. Gilmore Girls seems like a good choice. 

Police Daughter

by Tabitha S.

Little girls can learn a lot of things from their father. He’s your first dance partner. The buyer of an endless supply of stuffed animals. He teaches you how to ride your first bike by tricking you into believing he’s holding on but letting go and showing you that you can actually do it on your own. He’ll show you how to make some scrambled eggs- the good way- and then make spaghetti for dinner because he’s not exactly the next Top Chef (unless it’s on a grill). He gives you bravery every time you go to the doctor and they break out the needles. He can scare away anyone who wishes you harm with just a single look- and then look at you with tears in the same eyes the first time you get on a plane without him. He’ll give you the first bag of popcorn even though you weren’t the one who wanted it, just because he knows that deep down you can’t resist it. He’ll teach you to chase after your dreams and how to steadfastly ignore all those who say you can’t.

You learn lots of things from your father, but you learn even more when your dad is a police officer. You learn how to tell if someone is lying. You learn how to shoot, and how to tell how many shots should be left in the guns on action movies. You learn how to find fingerprints. You compete to see who can figure out the killer first when watching crime shows. You know what comes after “You have the right to remain silent” by heart. You learn how to effectively defend yourself with nothing more than a straw from McDonald’s.

When you’re the daughter of a police officer, you discover pretty early on how to be strong. How to be independent. How to worry. How to be brave when you go to the hospital after he’s been hurt in a high-speed chase. How to breathe again after hearing that, yes, he was in a situation where a suspect was armed but, no, he was not hurt.

When your dad is a police officer, you look at flashing lights very differently. The color blue has a different sort of meaning. The sound of a siren is followed by a prayer for their well-being. It’s a kiss goodbye around 5 am and a welcome home hug at the end of the day. It’s being picked up from school by a car with “410” written on the side and “Daddy” in my mind. It’s showing pride on the outside and feeling fear on the inside because not everyone sees that uniform the way you do.

I was born the daughter of a police officer and, though he may be retired, I will always proudly claim that title. But my dad is so much more than that. He is my teacher, my support, my sometimes therapist, my mechanic, my handyman, one of my biggest fans… and one of the biggest reasons I am the person I am today. From dance lessons to fast food related self-defense to teaching me how to use tools, my dad is always there to guide me through everything life could throw at me. And that can never be repaid.
                                       

I love you, 410.

Good Signal

by Jake H.

My ideas about knowing a second language have changed drastically over time. Since I can remember, I have romanticized having the ability to communicate with someone who didn’t speak my native tongue. Probably from movies or books where the dashing lead role just so happens to have the ability to traverse a sticky situation with foreign communication. You know the type, even Harry Potter has his moment using Parseltongue. Very likely for me it started with Tolkien. He made up or adapted several languages to build his world with a little more magic and mystique. I’ve always wanted to be the one that possessed the secret knowledge…just in case.

So I began taking Spanish in high school because I figured it was more useful than French and I had always been attracted to the Latin ladies in the movies. Flamenco and classical guitar have been loves of mine as long as I remember and Antonio Banderas as El Mariachi in Desperado is one of my heroes.

At first I believed I could simply practice and memorize, practice and memorize until I would one day suddenly be a confident fluent speaker of Spanish. I took two years in high school, another in college. Then I joined a college trip to Costa Rica and Nicaragua. Arguably, and without too much bragging, I was the most proficient in Spanish of my group. However, I could still not explain to a stranger if I was lost. I didn’t know it at the time, but I was slowly experiencing language learning as it was meant to happen. I soaked up more in those eleven days than I did in countless hours of class or study time. Pura Vida.

Fast forward two years. I’m sitting in ESLP 4100 watching a man named Krashen tell me that my experience learning in that natural setting was actually the way he believed language is acquired. In his words put simply: receiving and understanding messages.


Fast forward five months. I’m attempting to get a four year old out the door and into the car for kindergarten, but she doesn’t speak English. This tiny human’s first language is German, and she is absolutely ready to tell me what to do, what she wants, and what she needs. After spending three months with this little girl, my intermittent learning and studying of Spanish over the last ten years has now been rivaled by meine Deutsche. It’s all about receiving and understanding messages. 

Floppy

by Erin C.

It’s my first morning on the new farm. I didn’t sleep well. There are so many places in this chicken coop to rest up for the night. I haven’t yet seen any hens that I find attractive. Their feathers are so much duller and droopier than what I’m used to seeing. I’m too good for this place. The old human who brought me to this farm came out ten minutes ago for the first feed of the day. He threw out maybe ten handfuls of corn, and that’s it. I had to fight for what little mouthfuls of breakfast I could get. I was the king of the coop at the incubation farm, but this place has reduced me to a beggar.

When the old man came out in the afternoon for our second feeding time, he brought another human with him, a young scrappy girl with dirty brown hair and freckles. She laughed at me when she saw me: “His crown is all flopped over to one side!” I crowed at her. That is not true. My crown is a beautiful crimson red, and maybe it’s not completely straight-standing, but it’s definitely not floppy. Along with several handfuls of corn--much more than this morning’s feed--the scrappy girl also brought with her a bucket of assorted foods. Once again, I had to fight among the other beggars to obtain what food I could. This place is wretched, and I feel wretched in it.

This morning feels the same as yesterday morning. I am exhausted from lack of rest. I haven’t yet found a comfortable place to rest myself. The old man came out this morning with his same meager amount of corn. I don’t think I will ever get used to fighting other chickens for my meals. Even though there are only three other roosters in this whole coop (the other 27 chickens are hens), I find it hard to compete because I have always been given my own amount of food everyday.
           
When the old man and the scrappy girl came out for our second feeding today, things got heated. The old man threw out his usual handfuls of corn, and the young girl brought the bucket of mixed foods. When I approached the foods from the bucket which were strewn across the ground, several hens and one rooster turned their heads and pecked at me. I guess they just don’t like me, the newest member of the coop. I guess I haven’t yet earned a good reputation? I don’t know. But, for whatever reason, they wouldn’t let me eat any of the interesting bucket food. I was forced to resort back to the boring corn. The scrappy young girl looked at me. She said, “Here, Floppy. Don’t let them treat you that way!” and she scraped a few scraps out of the bucket and put them on the ground in front of me. I pecked down the delicious unknown substance and retreated. Although she showed me one act of kindness, I will still trust no human being. Ever.

Last night, I finally found a comfortable place to rest, away from all the enemies I’ve formed at this chicken coop. During our breakfast feed, I noticed the other three roosters eyeing me. Eyeing me hard. Like wouldn’t-look-away-even-one-time hard. I felt super uncomfortable, but I didn’t let it show. A beautiful, masculine rooster like me can’t let other roosters know that he’s intimidated. So as soon as I noticed their determination to stare me down, I turned my tail feathers to them and continued to fight for my corn kernel breakfast. To the wolf’s belly with them.

Something incredibly distressing has happened… I’ve been jumped. When the old man and Scrappy came out to present us with our usual corn and bucket of assorted foods, I made my way to fight for just one beakful of the bucket food, just one. As I neared the food, the rooster gang cornered me up against the wire fence and pecked me everywhere. My feathers, my wings, my comb, my claws—there was no single part of me left unscathed. I began to think that I might die. A glowing, warm, welcoming white light appeared in my eyes, and I longed for that light. In the glow of the light, I could feel no pecking. No wretchedness of the farm. No shame of having a floppy comb. I felt happy. Content. Loved. Suddenly, I was pulled away from the light and back to the farm. The scrappy girl was chasing after the rooster gang with a gigantic tree branch: “You stay away from Floppy, you stupid varmints!” She’d saved me.

Breakfast this morning was fine. I slept fine. I ate corn. The roosters left me alone. I hurt everywhere from yesterday’s brawl. I’m beginning to wish that Scrappy hadn’t saved me from the rooster gang.

This afternoon’s feed was miraculous. Not only did Scrappy give me a small portion of my own from the bucket, she brought me a delightful brown square that she called bread. She gave a few pieces to the hens to share. But I got my very own piece. I believe she’s taken a liking to me.

Once again, breakfast was fine. I slept fine. Life is fine. It’s just so dull. Everything at this farm is so dull. Except for Scrappy. I can’t wait until our afternoon feed.

I learned a new trick today. Scrappy brought me another piece of bread of my very own, but this time, she didn’t put it on the ground in front of me. She held it up above my comb, too high for me to peck. She said, “Jump to reach it, Floppy! Jump! Floppy, jump and you can get the bread! Jump, Floppy! Come on!” I had no idea what this jibber jabber meant. All I knew is that I wanted that delicious bread. I can’t fly because they clip our wings here, but I had another idea. I jumped up and grabbed one beakful of bread. Just one. I gobbled it down and jumped up to get one more beakful. I did this over and over and over while Scrappy laughed and laughed and laughed. I think she enjoys when I do this. The hens seemed to be almost afraid of what was happening. I didn’t care. I ate that entire piece of bread, jump by jump. And when it was finished… Scrappy pulled out another piece, and I started all over.

This morning is a brand new day. This morning, I got first pickings out of the bucket food. This morning, I have not been pecked. This morning, I have been surrounded by an entourage of hens and even one rooster. Hopefully, this isn’t some plan for a big gang fight. Hopefully, the roosters haven’t persuaded the hens to their side. Hopefully, this is the dawning of a new era. I guess we shall see.


I once again performed my new trick for Scrappy. She held out the bread, and I jumped and jumped and jumped until that piece was gone. Then, she held out another piece. Then, she held out a third piece. She loves my trick. This afternoon, the entourage that surrounded me during breakfast appeared around me once again to observe the spectacle. I suppose no chicken has ever gotten comfortable being close to a human on this farm before. Not even for delicious bread. After our feed, the hens and now all three roosters followed me around as if they wanted to do my bidding. My new trick impressed them. Much like at the incubation farm, I now have a posse. I now have a gang. I now have first pickings of meals. Once again, I have become the King of the Coop. Watch out, y’all. Floppy’s back.

The Road Agents

by Sally H.

I am haunted, haunted by my past, haunted by Montana. Haunted by the ghost of Henry Plummer and the Road Agents. Let me explain: Henry Plummer and I spent the majority of our lives in Southwest Montana; in the two towns of Virginia and Nevada City. They are located between my aunt's house, at the mouth of the canyon, and my Grandma’s house in the heart of the valley. Today, they are ghost towns, full of tourists in the summer; while only a few of my family members keep the barstools warm in the winter. A far cry from the boom towns they were during the California Gold Rush and the days of Henry Plummer. Abandoned hotels, cabins, and train cars are filled with the ghosts of miners, prostitutes, and bandits that once densely populated the area. Piles of dredged gravel line the roads from the gold mining. Geographically the area is surrounded by mountains; the Tobacco Roots and Spanish Peaks. The Greenhorn Range behind my Grandma's house is particularly dark and mysterious, it has no roads in or out. The Greenhorns are surrounded by myths of bigfoot and alien activity, that even my uncles can verify. This is also where many, including me, believe Plummer and his Road Agents hid their gold. The gold that the very Sheriff of Virginia City had robbed himself.  That is where our story begins with Henry Plummer.

Henry Plummer came to Montana from New York, he came to make his fortune in the Gold Rush! When he arrived in Nevada City, he was in his early twenties. Plummer was so well liked and trusted that he quickly became Sheriff of the town for two terms. This was a going fine until Henry got into love trouble. He was accused of sleeping with another man’s wife, which of course led to a duel in the streets. Plummer won the duel, but lost his freedom.  He was sentenced to life in San Quentin Prison. Well, some might say Plummer is lucky, because a few years later he was released from prison when he tested positive for tuberculosis. He returned to Nevada City immediately, where he started having some trouble with money and friends. Plummer found more trouble when he fatally shot a man in a whorehouse brawl. With no money, and no support, Plummer left Nevada City. Then, he came across Bannack, another boom town in Montana, about ninety miles southwest of Nevada City.  Plummer’s past was unknown to the folks in Bannack, so he won their hearts and their votes for Sheriff in no time. This time being sheriff was would be different for Plummer. He brought a friend from San Quen, Cyrus Skinner. Skinner helped Plummer organize a group of bandits to rob the gold from stagecoaches. Being Sheriff was the perfect cover!  The group was called the Road Agents and included men like Jack Gallagher, Clubfoot George, Ned Ray, and Buck Stinson. They terrorized the area by shooting men and stealing their gold. The Winter of December 1863, was particularly successful for the Road Agents, but some were starting to grow suspicious. In an effort to stop the robbing and murder, a group of men, including Bill Sanders and John Bozeman, met in Virginia City to stop the Road Agents. They would be called the Vigilantes. The Vigilantes suspected Sheriff Plummer and his gang were responsible for the crimes. They wasted no time and set off to hang the Road Agents. The Vigilantes caught most of the Road Agents in Virginia City, where they were hung on Boot Hill. The others fled, but were caught and hung around Hellgate.  Henry Plummer, however, returned to Bannack. The Vigilantes wasted no time chasing him, he was caught and hung January 10, 1864 in Bannack Montana. The only problem, the Vigilantes hung the Road Agents without ever finding out where they stashed their loot. Plummer and his gang had been stashing gold for months, somewhere in the area. Still to this day Plummer’s gold has not been found.

Virginia City is a big part of Montana history. In the summer you can walk the old boardwalk, tour the old buildings, enjoy shows in the theatre, see Clubfoot George’s club foot in the museum and pan for gold. Virginia City is a part of my history as well.  My father was prosecutor in the same of old courtrooms from the west, my people warm the bar stools in the bars, and my family’s homes are built there. I am sure Plummer’s gold is in those creepy mountains behind Grandma's house, but from what I’ve heard, I’m not risking a trip up there! Plummer's gang continues to haunt me to this day. Everywhere I have gone Plummer has been there. Even as I sat in Tennessee Tech’s education department, far, far away from Montana, I couldn’t help but notice the picture of the Road Agents hanging in my advisor's office.  

Baby I Love

by Abby M.

Baby I love—
I love a lot of things in this world.
But baby, I love you most.
I love that over the past year, you’ve become my best friend.
I love the way we make each other laugh.
I love our love for dogs and I love that you let Casper ride shot gun.
Baby, I love your selflessness.
I love how you nag me to wear Band-Aids and you remind me to take my medicine.
And baby, I love your passion for film.
I love that you share your favorite movies with me.
I even love your nerdy devotion to Marvel and Star Wars.
I also love how you always save the last bite of dessert for me.
And you constantly offer me the blue and pink sour gummy worms.
Baby, I love that you tell me I’m beautiful.
But I definitely don’t love everything in my life.
I hate muscle pain, weight gain, and
I really hate numb toes.
But baby, I love that you help me through my struggles.
I love that you support me and believe in me.
I love a lot of things in this world.

But baby, I love you most.

Where I'm From

by Ashley W.

I’m from freshly cooked food
from softly lit candles and giggling children who always want to play.
I’m from the big brick house that sits alone on a lonely road
but is full of people and lovely smells that never seem to disappear.
I’m from the weeping willow tree that slowly grows in the front yard.
The hearty chestnut trees that surround me
whose long gone limbs I remember as if they were my own.
I’m from family get-togethers and always being late
from the County Mayor and the First Lady.
I’m from church on Sunday and sleeping in and
from early morning brunches that no one ever seems to miss.
I’m from clean your plate and say your prayers
and “Silent Night” sung softly before bedtime.
I’m from family reunions at the park a few miles down the road.
I’m from Knoxville, Tennessee but Loudon, Tennessee is my home.
I’m from bubbling hot apple cake and twice baked potatoes drowning in cheese
from holiday parties where everyone’s eyes are far bigger than their stomachs.

I’m from my grandmother’s diamond that I now wear as my own.
It snugly sits on the ring finger of my left hand, reminding me of her every day and her love that I will forever treasure in my heart.

The Hood

by Ashley G.

Once upon a time in a small village amongst the mountains lived a little girl. Her mother and grandmother doted on her borderline excessively. They adored her so much they even had her clothes made exclusively for her. That’s where I come in. That’s right, I’m the red riding hood which some may argue made the girl.

I made her so beautiful and fit her so well that everyone began to call her Little Red Riding Hood. Little Red loved me and went nowhere without me. So you can imagine my pleasure when on a dreary day mother sent her, or better stated us, to take some butter and cake to her ill grandmother. Of course, being the insufferable angel that she was Little Red (and I) set out immediately.

When I say it was a dreary day I mean the kind with fog so thick you can hardly see five feet from your face. The kind with a bone chilling wind in the air. The kind that I had absolutely no desire to be out in. But what do I matter? I am merely a garment of clothing.

So here we are wandering through the woods with some cake and a pot of butter when we happen upon a wolf. Now I’m just an article of clothing so perhaps I’m not the sharpest crayon in the box. However, I’ve always figured that if you come across a wolf on a dreary day in the middle of the woods you should run, or hide, or do anything but go near the thing. Apparently no one shared that memo with Little Red, though, because I bet you know exactly what she did next.

Little Red walked up to the wolf and greeted him happily. He proceeded to ask her where she was going and in an act of pure obtuseness, she told him. She even went so far as to challenge him to a race there, seemingly oblivious to the fact that he has four legs and she has two. My only hope was that the wolf had a polyester allergy or at the very least the good sense that fabric does not settle well in the stomach.

When we arrived at the house there was no sight of the wolf. Little Red smugly assumed that she had beat him there and triumphantly entered the house of sweet ole gran. She sat the cake and butter in the kitchen and went into gran’s room where she was resting in bed. Only it didn’t much look like gran.

“Gran, I met a wolf in the woods and challenged him to a race here. You’ll never believe it but I won! Isn’t that wonderful?”

“Yes, child, absolutely wonderful. Now remove your clothing and come into bed. You can tell me all about it.” Gran said to Little Red, only it didn’t sound like Gran.

“Okay!” She obliged, giddy at the opportunity to brag. Little Red placed me in a chair by the bed with the majority of her other clothing. At this point, I was just glad to be off of the child’s sweaty head. I will admit that I was curious so instead of finishing my crossword puzzle I aptly tuned in to the scene on the bed.

“Gran, what big arms you have!”

“All the better to hug you with, my dear.”

“Gran, what big legs you have!”

“All the better to run with, my child.”

This didn’t sound right to me. I pulled from my memory an image of Gran the last time I had seen her. She was a small woman who had become even more so in her old age. I realized who was in that bed just in time to tune in to the end of their conversation.

“Gran, what big teeth you have!”

“All the better to eat you up with, dear!”

And with that, Little Red was history and so were my days of misery. I did always wonder, though, what had ever become of poor Gran.


#MyPoshJourney

by Molly G.

Back over the summer, I’d made a Facebook post about buying some products from a store that sales products for your bath and your body. My friend (and sorority sister) Katie commented on it asking if she could send me some samples. A little back story for this is Katie is an Independent Consultant for a direct sales company called Perfectly Posh. At this point I’d been invited to a few of the Facebook parties she was the consultant for, but I hadn’t tried any products. I hadn’t even really participated in the parties except say that “maybe” I was going (aka I wasn’t planning on even paying attention to the posts, but I wanted to be nice). When I saw her comment on my post, I said, “Sure, why not! I’ll message you my address!” I then sent her a personal message with my mailing address. Within a week, I had a sample pack via the mail at my house.

At this point in my life, I was working about sixty hour weeks at the Clyde M. York 4-H Center in Crossville. I needed something – at the time I didn’t know what – to help with my nasty looking feet and that would also make the rest of me feel refreshed and relaxed and clean after a day of wading in ponds and doing who knows what. When I received Katie’s sample pack in the mail, I was at camp, but I picked it up the weekend I was off and returned home for a couple days. I took it back to camp with me unused for a couple days. I then finally opened it and saw what all she had sent. The first product I pulled out was a body butter. I immediately used it on my gross, cracked feet. When I did and put on some socks, I immediately knew that I was needing to order me some of that. I then tried the rest of the products and weeded out the ones I knew I wanted and then finally looked at her website.

Upon looking at Katie’s website, I saw there was some other products for nasty, gross feet, and I placed an order. I signed up for the Perks program to start earning towards free products and immediately became hooked. I proceeded to order more products over the course of two more months. I had fell in love and was stocked up for a good long while. After I had placed my first order, I decided it was the time to talk to Katie about hosting a Facebook party – since I was at camp and didn’t want to arrange a home party. I hosted the party and fell more in love with the products and had started gaining knowledge. I eventually caught myself talking to people about it outside of the event and even answering people’s questions about products before Katie could. I was hooked. I was growing a passion for this company that I hadn’t felt towards a company before.

Over the course of the two months following my party, Katie and I talked more about Perfectly Posh and what it was like being a consultant. We messaged each other about it, Snapchatted about it. We did an assortment of things. We kept talking about it, and I kept saying I’d do it after graduation in May if I still felt like I should do it. Little did I know when I said that, the next day the starter kits were going to be on sale for half off.

The fears that I had about joining was that I was afraid I wasn’t going to be good at it. I’m generally an antisocial person and extremely introverted. I’m introverted to the point that when I know that I’m going to have to deal with big crowds (more than about fifteen people) I have to mentally prepare myself to try and not get mentally and emotionally exhausted. I knew that going into the direct sales world I was going to have to become more of a social butterfly. I was going to have to try and come out of that shell, and it terrified me. I was going to have to be social in a way that I was not used to being. I was terrified of that thought. I was terrified that I would end up with this and only be selling to my five friends and my parents and that I wouldn’t be successful. I had this vision of if I did this, I wanted to become really good at it. I also felt like it would take up a lot of my time, and I didn’t know if I could balance my time well with residency looming in my view. I quickly had to face these fears because something occurred that I hadn’t anticipated: the starter kits going on such a sale that I’d be silly to pass up a business opportunity like that.

The day the starter kits went half off, I was talking to Katie all day about it. I started talking to friends about it. I wanted to get the insights of the people who knew me best to see if they thought I could do it. My best friend Aleta told me that she thought I could really do it, because of my knowledge of the products already and my honesty. She said that my personality and care for others would really help with this. After talking to her at an hour I’d rather be asleep, I finally decided to take the plunge. At 10PM that evening, I submitted my order for a starter kit and received my replicated website. I didn’t know what I was really getting myself into in that moment. I just thought I was going to be sharing my love and passion for this company and products on Facebook and maybe having a party here and there. I just thought this was an easy way to earn some extra spending money and to have a hobby to help pay for the gas in my residency experience. Boy was I wrong.

The day after the starter kits were on sale, I realized that I had been added to three different Facebook groups. I had been added to Posh Talk – the group only for consultants company-wide to talk about topics that are posted each day. I then noticed I had been added to a group that was for Erica’s downline (everyone below you in your team). Erica at the time was a Premier leader in the company, and she was the one who I was to go to for advice and to ask questions about things I was unsure of. I then noticed I had been added to Sarah’s group. Sarah was pushing for Premier that month. I wasn’t the only one added to those groups, though. There was so much growth in that short time frame for all of the groups. I then realized that a lot of people signed up to get the starter kit with all the products and not to actually sell, unlike me.

Over the course of the next couple of days, I started posting about it on Facebook and started interacting in the groups. I talked to some friends about it, but nobody seemed all that interested in purchasing. I made some sample packs and did a lot of things to try and build my business. I made a VIP Facebook group and even ordered business cards. Nothing seemed to be working. I was getting discouraged, but then my team leader Sarah sent me a message saying she was glad I joined her team. I at the time brushed it off, because I thought she was just being nice. I was wrong. Sarah meant it. She offered me so much encouragement my first few weeks in that I will never be able to repay to her. I learned what the core value of doing direct sales was you’re not on your own. You always have a team. I realized that my upline would be my support system through and through. They are the rocks that I needed to start building my business upon. They were the foundation of all the knowledge I have gained so far and are helpful in trying to find my own answers to situations I have encountered in my business.

I started changing my attitude about it my business due to not feeling I was being successful like I had wanted to be. I started Poshing everyone with samples. I kept on posting about it, but I was realizing that I wasn’t using my own voice. I was trying to sound like the company. At this point, I discovered the Prep Academy videos which is business training. I started watching those and completing what I needed for that. I devoured them. I watched a whole ninety days’ worth in a week or two. I was devouring all that I could to be able to make my business better. I was so focused on sales that I wasn’t focusing on the theme of the company – people deserve to pamper themselves. People deserve to take time out of their busy day for themselves. I was becoming self-centered. I wasn’t doing what the core values were. I had to take a step back.

When I was taking my step back, one evening I got on my virtual office after school to see that one of my mom’s co-workers and family friend had placed an order. I immediately sent her a text message and thanked her so much. She was my first sale. She was the first person to make me realize that sales can come from anyone. I fixed her a thank you note and sent it with my mother to school the next day along with a sample pack thanking her so much. For you see, she was my only order my first month in. I sent her a product at the end of the month that I thought she would enjoy as a thank you and to show her how much I love and appreciate her, both in my business and out.

The next month started becoming a little better. Sarah was still pushing for Premier, and Erica was about to be ready to give birth to who she calls #Boy4. At this point, I had donated some items in a pack for a silent auction. A friend won the bid on them and told me how much she loved them. A mutual friend of ours in almost the same breath booked a party with me. I was beginning to gain momentum. I was also a nervous wreck. I had only ever attended Facebook parties. I had no idea what I was doing. I went to my team leaders for support and guidance. After many comments and messages later, I realized that I really just needed to be myself. At the time, I was excited about that, but the more I thought about it, the more I realized that was a joke. I, of all people, who is not super girly, is ridiculous thinking I can sell pampering products, but I did it. I hosted that party with everyone present placing orders. I was super excited. I was almost to my goal that the company had pre-set out for me in sales for a time frame. I sent them all thank you cards and updated my upline on how everything went.

The next couple of weeks or so after that was a little slow, I was starting to become discouraged, but I kept working my business. I had even made an Instagram account to maybe reach folks that way. I wanted to help out my upline by making sales and helping them reach their promotions. I was still very much caught up in sales and posting graphics instead of making this business mine. I was trying so hard to hide behind a façade of a person that I wasn’t business wise. I slowly started coming out of that. I started watching training that was posted in the groups. I started to get to actually know my team members. I started realizing that what I was doing was bigger than sales.

Over the course of the next few weeks following that, my uplines didn’t reach their promotions, and I didn’t have any sales. My mom kept telling me it was just a slow time. I had a hard time believing her. Then the next thing I know, the company decided to start doing Podcasts. I started listening to those weekly and my fire came back. I started to get passionate about it again. I started contacting people and doing followups and seeing if anyone needed anything. I started having conversations with people I hadn’t talked to in ages. I started posting more in my VIP group content that wasn’t Posh related. I started posting engagement posts to get folks pumped up. Then, it happened. It was the end of November. I kept feeling it in my toes that something was going to happen, and boy it did.

The last week of the month I had the most sales ever along with the biggest order ever placed. I encouraged my fellow consultants in my upline and team. I started encouraging them by telling them that they were rocking it. I started telling them how awesome they were. I started telling them that I wished I could be like them because of their level of fabulous. The thing is – I meant every word. I’d been encouraging these awesome ladies the whole month, but I felt this new energy and drive to really do it. I had this fire in me that was wanting to spread the encouragement to the people being business-wise productive and were feeling downtrodden. It was the least I could do when I couldn’t find any more sales to make. I started encouraging and being pumped up for everyone. I had this new desire. What was funny, was that I had been receiving this from everyone, but I had only been kind of giving it back. I hadn’t fully committed yet. But, at this point, I had. I had finally committed to rocking the encouragement train for everyone. I wanted everyone to feel like they were the best consultant there was.

Little did I know that that encouragement would be what pushed Sarah to Premier. It also pushed Erica to Gold Premier (for she had reached Silver the month before). I realized that being a cheerleader and encouraging folks made them believe in themselves more and work even harder. I realized that maybe that’s my role at that point. Maybe I was just everyone’s cheerleader, who knows. I was satisfied with that. The universe had other plans. Since all my sales were at the end of the month, I had qualified for some giveaways from Erica and Sarah. From Erica, I won the drawing for a laptop. Yes, you read that right – a laptop. I had won a laptop. From Sarah, I knew I was going to be getting a pink, fluffy headband, but I didn’t realize that I was also going to be getting a keychain, as well. This keychain is a pink turtle to symbolize Sarah’s business. The thing is, is that I felt like I didn’t deserve any of this. I hadn’t been working my business like I should. I was just an encourager.

Over the course of November, I realized the ways in which I was going to need to fix my business. I started becoming more client centered. I started including personal reviews and stories about products. I started going LIVE to tell folks about the products I loved and the exciting things that were happening. I started caring more about the people and how my face and personality fit into my business. I started realizing that there was so much more to this company than simply selling products. 

During the course of the encouragement I had given to my fellow team members at the end of the month, I was on the way to finding my voice again. I was finding out who I actually was in this company. I was finding out what I wanted my business to sound like. I started finding out how I wanted to sound on social media. I started figuring out the person I wanted to be to my clients. I was finding the voice I needed to encourage people to trust me when I recommended products. I started finding the voice I realized I had squashed down at the beginning because I was embarrassed to be myself. I quickly realized that being embarrassed about myself was not going to get me anywhere. I acquired a way in which I can be myself and show that even if I’m not the girliest person, that I love being clean and taking care of myself. I found a way that I can go about explaining this difference to people.

Three nights ago, I finally decided on my personal brand. Something that is uniquely mine. I decided on Prima Posh with Molly. The prima comes from my love of dance. I’ve danced my whole life, and I’m glad to be implementing that into a part of my life that is more public. Being a prima means that I am at the top of my game. I’m one of the number one ballerinas in the studio. It means that I am showing my customers that I am doing the best I can to give them the service they deserve. I’m excited to be beginning this journey of having a brand. I’m excited that I have found my fire again. This last weekend, I made ELEVEN sample packs. I started working on my second launch party. I started figuring out when I can schedule in my business around my busy life. I’m glad that I started finding myself again and that I can finally breathe. I’m glad that I’m finding a place in which that I can show my interests and influence others. I’m glad that I’m finding a way to have control of my own life and am making the decisions I need – business and personal life alike. Who knows, maybe in the next three months something exciting will happen in my Posh life. We’ll see. Until then, this is my journey so far, and I’m glad that I’m on that experience. I regret nothing, and I want to keep looking forward.

Plus, right now I’m having the opportunity to win a trip to Greece. I might win it; we’ll just have to wait and see. We’ll see where the New Year takes me and my new found courage in myself.

Small Friends

by Tori P.

Being with kids is my favorite thing.
If a mom needs a sitter, she’ll give me a ring.
I arrive at the house, anticipating what will happen,
Next thing I see, sister took brother out of his play pen.
All she wanted to do was play,
But he did not see it that way.
I take the baby, cuddle him, and calm his crying,
Wondering what else the night shall bring.
We all play and have snacks,
That’s when I smell something… crap.
I then change diapers, and when they’re all clean,
Sister begins to ask why the grass is green.
They play twenty questions as if I’m all-knowing,
But it warms my heart to watch their brains growing.
The night’s almost over and I don’t want it to end

Being a baby sitter brings me the best of small friends. 

Obituary of Nikon 3000

by Megan B.

Nikon 3000, of Cookeville, passed away early Saturday morning from a broken lens. Nikon was born in a small factory town in eastern Texas to Nik and Konnie 3000. He is the youngest of two brothers, Canon and Samuel Sung. He had a wonderful life, and he was well loved by all who met him. He always felt his sole purpose in life was to make people happy. He did this by telling stories about his world travels. From Turkey to Hawaii to Costa Rica, his stories told a thousand words. He had such a brilliant mind.
Early in his life, he began painting. He eventually was accepted to The Art Institute. He graduated top of his class and had a successful career as a landscape and portrait painter. He once painted a picture of the man on the moon that was so realistic it ended up in TIME Magazine’s Most Influential Images of All Time. His work has been featured in many other places, such as Facebook, Instagram, and Wikipedia. He saw many things in his life, some good, some bad, some terrible. He saw the top of Mount Everest, and captured sea turtles in the deep blue sea. He saw war in all of its gore and tragedy. He saw peace in all of its serenity. But most of all, he got to see an ever-changing world grow into a whirlwind of technologically advanced gadgets.
As he got older, he slowed down and his memory faded. His sight began to get a little foggy, but he never lost his ability to make anyone flash a smile.
            Nikon is preceded in death by Film, Polaroid, and Kodak. He is survived by his wife, Pan, short for Panasonic, and his two sons, Go and Pro.

His memorial service on December 22 will be captured at sunset on Panoramic Drive. 

Tips on Being a 6th Year Senior: Ways to Thrive, Not Just Survive

by Faith G.

So let’s be real, I have been in college longer than the “norm”. Through my years of becoming a 6th year senior I have come up with a list of tips to help anyone who will be/is in my same shoes. Hope this can provide some comedic relief or a little assistance to your situation:

1.      Be Real. Cling to God’s Word. (You’ll need all the help you can get.)

2.      Get Familiar. Learn all the backroads and places to avoid in your college town. (If you’re in Cookeville, Walnut will become your best friend.)

3.      Laugh at Yourself. People on campus will often say to you, “Wait... How old ARE you?!?” (This statement may be accompanied by a bug eyed stare.)

4.      Don't Compare. You will still be in college while friends your age are at their “big girl jobs”. (But let’s be honest, having real responsibility isn’t that fun anyways.)

5.      Make Jokes. When family wants to know what you’re doing with your life, tell them you have decided to become a professional student. (Little do they know how serious you really are.)

6.      Remain Confident. Others may often wonder why you have been in school so long. (Which you may also be wondering yourself...)

7.      Adapt Well. You will go through many generations of friends during your extended stay in college. (Look at it this way, the more the merrier.)

8.      Stay Young. When hanging out with peers, you may learn that they were in Kindergarten when you were in the 6th grade. (But who’s counting, ...right?)

9.      Help Others. Give advice about what you have learned from your lengthy journey called College. (Yes, they will start to refer to you as “Mom”.)

10.  Get Over It. You are where you are for a purpose, so embrace the ride. (And make sure to buckle up.)

Five Ways to Reclaim Your Masculinty at Fifty

by Tony B.

1.      Build a campfire just before dark. See if your teenage daughter will join you, but the chances are low, since she’s mostly outgrown these moments. Crumble up newspaper or phonebook pages (nobody uses either anymore), layer with small, dry twigs, and top with a criss-cross of logs. Consider pouring on an accelerant, perhaps from that can of old mis-measured gas/oil mix. Light the fire. Feed it twigs and additional tinder. Spend no less than an hour contemplating the licking flames, the glowing coals, and your lucky, lucky life. A cigar will help.

2.      String a hammock between two trees in the shade on a breezy summer day when you should be mowing the lawn or balancing the checkbook. Lie down in the hammock, and try not to worry that it’ll rip under your weight. Nap for no less than ten minutes. Dream about sleeping or cliff diving or fighting aliens. Wake up slightly disoriented but recharged, with the wind whispering through the trees. Don’t confess this sin to your wife.

3.      Before the long holiday trip with the family, pack the back of the minivan carefully, expertly, systematically with no gaps or spaces, Tetris-style. Treat the luggage as if it’s important. Gaze with satisfaction upon the snug suitcases, the just-in-case snow boots, the filler pillows, and the bags of wrapped gifts for grandmas, nieces, and nephews. Pack nothing in the back that needs to be fetched mid-trip. Make sure that your wife sees these masterful packing skills, but accept her compliments nonchalantly.

4.      Listen to Tom Waits singing “Heart Attack and Vine” or “Lucinda.” On CD, vinyl, mp3—don’t be a jerk about it. Turn it up loud and, if you’re not driving, take a swig of stout or porter or Scotch. But of course you’re driving, probably on your way to pick up one of the kids from their busy lives. So take a swig of the McDonald’s Diet Coke you always buy at the drive-thru. Sing along with Tom in your lowest, most gravelly growl to match his raw, hound-dog howls. Sing along until your throat hurts a little, but don’t blow your vocal chords entirely. Nobody needs to see or hear this private performance, so keep it to yourself.

5.      Look closely at your face in the mirror. Study your graying hair, your receding or receded hairline, your multiple chins you attempt to hide under your uneven goatee. Study your frown wrinkles, your yellowing teeth. Vow to smile more. Regret that you never had braces as a kid, that you don’t work out, that you’ve let yourself go, simple as that. Then look closely at your wife. Study her familiar face, her soft skin, her twinkling eyes, her sweet, genuine smile. Regret how you’ve taken her for granted. Think about the loser you’d be without her. Appreciate the fact that out of the millions of possible mates in the world she chose to spend the rest of her life with you. Thank her. Then tell her—tell her!—tell her everything.