Heroine of the Day, A play, and Nothing to Say

Haven’t publicly admired anyone recently, pop culture’s just been plain dumb. My mom, a Jewel fanatic and pre-school teacher, recently purchased a newly-released Jewel lullaby album. (That’s lots of adjectives) Sorry ahead Ms. Gem, but I hated you a week ago. You were a nasally folk singer and weren’t my taste. A second sorry. BUT THEN, you grabbed my heart with a spin on “The Itsy-Bitsy Spider” aka “Sammy the Spider” in the car on  the way to church this morning. Dumb for a freshman I know. Really? But it was a chilly rain-hangover kind of morning with the road still soggy and with he birds sleeping in, it was a quiet ride. On cue, my mom pushed in the Fisher Price Jewel CD and pushed play. If Guitar can be bouncy, then it was then. “Sammy the Spider…”

I was in love and OK with being 5 again.

Jewel isn’t my role model. For one, she needs a shade shirt. Then I wouldn’t have married a bull rider whose workplace hazard is twice as risky as a Firefighter’s but HEY! Things are different in the South.

Jewel is a Goddess of unique folk with a witty spin when she fancies. That’s how she hypnotized the rambunctious monkeys on the way to church. I laughed gently at her subtle humor.

Would you dear reader, like to be hypnotized? Hit play. (Sorry, Jewel looks creepy)


Last night was our Stake Roadshow and it was utterly fabulous. Now I know how proud mothers feel watching their kids on stage, except my baby was the play itself and I shared that pride with like four other parents (The analogy’s escaping me now) Myself and another boy wrote it with an awesome sister in our ward.

But, writing words for yourself is flat. We threw our words like a blanket over the teens willing to act their booties off  and all of a sudden, our words had life and shape and people watching our play were watching our words move and dance and sing. We came off the stage after three months of practice and sweat, all grins. High-Fives and NAILED IT’s could be heard out in the audience. We headed back to our room heads high as if we had already won our Golden Globe (or at least some people).

We were closer that night. Smiles were exchanged that had never been traded before. Our hearts were in the same place and maybe that was the point.

Proof of bonding in the form of Hipstomatic Pictures:

Testing the Curtain Call.


Had some cousins over for dinner tonight. The lovely sister of my grandmother and her daughter’s family along with a first-cousin once removed from San Francisco. (Family reunions get you close) I sat in on the intelligent conversation. ‘Twas about books that bring out the animals in humans (The Hunger Games, Enders Game) and how great writers come in many forms. If it takes one to know one, then wouldn’t that make everyone a great writer? Certainly. That’s why SydneyJoTo is a blogger and not an actress or folk-singer.


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