Festival of Colors

I’m always on campus and without my camera whenever I decide at the last minute to do fun stuff.

In Spanish Fork at the Hare Krishna temple, around spring’s advent, they throw a huge Festival of Colors. I’m not sure what that involves with the Hindu culture, except for what I saw: colored, scented chalk powder (or cornstarch) everywhere, on everybody. (“Everybody” felt like at least 10,000 people.) The burning of an effigy. Loud, Indian music and people dancing and shouting and it feels like Woodstock, except that it definitely isn’t Woodstock. It was fun; everybody pelted everyone else with bright colors, and for the bulk of a Saturday afternoon, everyone in Utah was the same.

Oh, wait.

Just kidding, Utah. Not everyone in Utah is the same. I try to make a point to hang out with the people who are the least like everybody else. Within my own comfort of conformity, of course.

It was nice of the emcee to tell people to keep their clothes on.

Yesterday was a hat day, because it was not a good hair day. This hat is usually grey and black with a herringbone pattern. When we left the festival, this is what my hat looked like:

This is the potential someone’s hair achieved, because she did not wear a hat:

It was a pretty full day.  A friend put a huge purple smear on my face, and I did not fully assess the damage until we were well out of Spanish Fork. After the festival, I was able to change my top in the car on the way to Draper’s Cafe Rio without a citation for indecent exposure. I did Rocky impressions and obeyed dog commands.  A friend successfully cleaned up after peeing herself. (This was a lot funnier then than gross now as I’m typing. …Nevermind, it’s still pretty funny now.)

I’m sure other photos will pop up eventually.

Another Letter, Again

Dear Australia,


I know I said I was done writing you, but I just finished watching my best friend’s wedding videos, and I am weeping. I’m sure you’ve seen what a beautiful bride and wife she is. Of course you have.

It’s incredible, the different and disparate paths our lives take. The Lord definitely guides us – if we let Him – to where we need to be.

It’s Palm Sunday here, and my gratitude is overflowing.

I’m glad Becky and I got to talk on the phone a couple of weeks ago. The signal was clear, and she didn’t seem as far away.

It makes me happy to see my friends really, truly in love. I think back to that January morning in the temple and all the true and righteous choices that led to her marriage. What a beautiful day! What a wonderful life! She inspires me.

Becky loves and gives and understands and cherishes. I’m so blessed to have her friendship. She’s been there for me pretty much since we first met almost six years ago, and I can always count on her for her support.

Keep me posted, Barry. I’ll see you soon.