Food, Glorious Food

I love food. Always have, always will. My aunt called me a black hole when I was younger because I ate so much. Food is glorious.

I remember going out towards Nixa to watch fireworks on the Fourth of July. We parked in the back of a Braum’s parking lot, and my cousins wanted ice cream. Normally, their parents would say no, but my grandpa was nice enough to buy all of us some. I remember walking into the store after my grandpa, and leaving with a small Styrofoam bowl of mint chocolate chip ice cream.

And around that time my grandpa gave me my first drink of coffee. It was all black, and I was five. He laughed so hard when I spit it out right there in his front lawn- he thought it was so funny when my face scrunched up at the bitter taste. Now, I’m an avid coffee drinker- I even stole some of his over the summer.

Right before Christmas one year, my aunt decided she was going to make cookies for everyone. And when she makes cookies, I’m her helper. I actually did practically all of it, but she helped when I was tired of stirring the dough. We made at least four batches of cookies that night.

When I was younger, I hated eating eggs with a passion. Normally, we’d have them scrambled, but I still hated eating them. The texture threw me off, I think. So I would drown them in ketchup. I’m still not a fan of ketchup, so I mainly use salsa now. Eggs are still really weird for me, I kind of mindlessly hate them.

 
Well, I could probably go on for about ten more pages, but the point will be the same. Food is love. Food is life.

Inspired by Collins

At 4 I was a daddy's girl without knowing who he truly was,

long, brown banana curls that fell down to my waist, 

trusting.

At 14 I was facing the truth,

grinning and bearing it, 

quiet at home.

At 18 I will face my demons,

pull up my big girl panties, 

be free.

Photo Hunt

This adorakable child has put up with me since sophomore year. We've been through a lot together- kudos to you for surviving so long. #yesthisisawin #congratsonkeepingyoursanity

This is my sister in her natural habitat- the Japanese room. Actually, I think she prefers cooking, which is cool with me. She's taught me a lot. No, we're not actually sister. She's taught me a lot about strength, and I thank her for that.  #sisterfolyfe #justkidding #shesuppliesmewithcaffienesomedays #loveher

I can't exactly express in words how great Mr.Snyder is, I tend to just end up using flailing hand motions and incoherent babbling about forensics. Yes, I was in his class for nine weeks, but It was so great. And I guess he's pretty cool. #coolcat #yesIsaidthat #noregret #incoherentnoisesofappreciation

You ask a theatre kid for books, and this is what you'll get. Drama onstage (what about off?), Shakespeare, and Short plays. This is kinda, sorta, basically my life. #Theatrekidprobs #IveheardBillisbae #whateverthatmeans

Squares in the art court yard. #NoNeedForMore

Round objects outside of Snyder's room. #WhyQuestionIt

Up a dino's nose? Why yes, dinosaurs are extinct. And yes, this is a picture on a dinosaur's head protruding from a wall. No one is sorry about this. #welcometoKHS #donttelluswhattodo #cantstopwontstop

Ah, yes. The elusive school spirit. That's something everyone has! The first week. Of their freshman year. Most of us get over it. My Senioritis is very strong, my friends. #thatsenioritisthough #morelikeschoolspirits

I find the art courtyard completely and irrevocably adorable. It's so cute, and interesting! I love the set up, and random art projects that are left our on display or to dry. #Ilikeitalottle #yesthatsathing #maybe #probablynot

Yes, these are the USB ports on the computer. They look like a face though! #tooamused

When children walk into a school, I'm sure they're shocked by the large, odd, profanity spewing hooligans they'll probably turn into in a few years. But what they notice is the vending machines. #getthechangemom #gummywormtime

Well... This is the cast of the first show I've had multiple speaking roles in. Well, besides Phaedra, but that totally doesn't count. this was curtain call for You Can't Beat The Hose. Starting on the left there's Alex Elliot as Officer Laraby, Courtney Price as Brittney, Emmi Kerr as Lillian, Quinn as Conrad Spears, Taylor as Howie, Bailey Diehl as Merle, Maggie Hopke as Glenda Spears, Chrissy as Madam Zenobia, me as Courtney Parfait, and Hannah Cederblom as Fern. I'll always remeber this moment. When the show was over, and we come out to people clapping for us. the adrenaline starts to slow down, but you're still a bit on the high. When you take a breath and bow with your cast mates, and you can't help but feel content. It's probably the best feeling ever.  #theatrekid #thatwasmorethanwhatwasrequired #courtneyparfaitworldwidereality 

Construction. Oh. My. God. It's the most irratating thing ever, and I go on multiple hatred filled, annoyance induced rants because of it. #stoppingmyselfnow #dontevenman

Brad Noble's art work is simply... stunning. #IHaveNoWords #MathStairwell

Well, I don't have a picture for the last one. There were simply too many possibilities. A chief head, football, theatre, or silly stories that are told. High School hooligans. I don't think I'll ever be able to forget this place, and I'm not sure if that's good or not.

Boston

Laughter rippled through us as we congregated in the middle of the room before rehearsals. Our director was on his computer, but we paid him no mind. Not until he walked over to the hardly used television screen. Our attention slowly turned to the new channel and shock rippled through us, and before anyone was consciously aware of it, we had all moved to stand around the screen. It was chaos on screen, and the words hit us like a tidal wave.

“What’s happening?” She asked me in a soft whisper. I didn’t even hear her come in.

“The Boston marathon was just bombed,” I told her. I couldn’t tear my eyes off the screen, but I could hear her gasp of surprise. Tears evaded my vision, and I could hear the quiet whimpers of a few other people.

“Oh God, my uncle lives in Boston,” A voice said in a hoarse whisper. The sound of fabric moving signaled that people had started comforting each other, consoling those whose family was near the explosion.

Clearing my throat, I turned to leave the room as a tear rolled down my cheek. I hadn’t lost anyone, but the pain in the classroom was practically malleable. Just the thought of how many people had died- where dying- shocked me to the core. How could someone do that? How could someone be so cruel? What the hell kind of world did we live in?

I didn’t understand- I still don’t- how one person could harbor so much hatred, and take it out on innocent people.

Photograph 2001

This is me when I was three
smiling at my mother 
as I tried on the tiara and veil
for her upcoming wedding
and my role as flower girl.

This is my curly brown hair
tugged back to expose
my chubby three-year-old cheeks
dark blue eyes cast in shadows 
in the house my grandparents lived
those fourteen years ago. 

Dark blue overalls that 
I didn't bother wearing 
a shirt under because
who would criticized a three year old
on their clothing choices?

This is before the wedding
before the miscarriages 
and heart ache from 
dead beat dads
before I felt a fathers love
before I grew up too soon
and before I realized how screwed 
our entire world was.

This was before the other shoe dropped.