of candy wrappers and super moons

We drove up the canyon for a few miles. We probably didn't need our headlights, the moon was so bright. It turned the mountains an iridescent green. We talked about President Monson, who died the night before, and the burden about to be placed on Russell M. Nelson. But ya know, that guy has so much energy, you'd hardly know he was older.

You ate cold McDonald's fries. I scratched an itch on my leg, the same itch in the same spot that's always there, and there's no bump or rash to accompany it. So maybe I'm just imagining things.

And now, a photo essay of the candy wrapper trail I found in the living room that led from the candy jar to your feet. You said, "I think I was rage-eating them."

Sorry the lighting sucks cuz we live in a basement with hardly any natural light, and it's winter, and I don't have fancy camera equipment. I am not a true Utah blogger, so I guess I have to turn in my VASA membership and Roolee coat now. 

he was definitely rage eating, because otherwise those strawberry candies never would've gotten eaten

notice the other tell-tale signs of our living here: a ginger ale can, Kleenex, a conservative magazine, Smiths' rewards card, Micron pens, and a gadget Houston bought on the Oregon Coast

this blurry shot will probably be considered modern art someday

and last but not least, THE WALL. Much more ominous than the Berlin Wall, it stands in our living room, separating us from sophisticated 20-somethings whose parents bought them a brand new house with white walls and mid-century modern furniture.... and just ordinary newlyweds tryn'a make it through school and mediocre desk jobs.

I've been told to enjoy this time and for once I am doing what I'm told. It's nice to be ordinary. It's nice to not have all this brand new *stuff* to worry about. To just be. And if a drive up the canyon while eating cold fries is considered a date, it's one of the most memorable I've ever had.