I am 36 hours away from completing my internship.
I am 38 hours away from completing my job at The Daily Universe (give or take a few hours).
I am 17 days away from moving out of my apartment.
I am 23 days and 6 hours away from leaving Utah.
I am 24 days away from being completely lost in what could happen next in my life. I have no concrete plans. Just a 20 hour drive to a new state in hopes of finding a job, in hopes of saving up to go to grad school, in hopes of getting into that grad school, in hopes of graduating in something I actually want to do for the rest of my life.

I'm swimming around in a lot of "away from's." I have a feeling I'll soon be drowning in the "hopes." The ground, I suppose, will be when I find "is." Oh, sweet solid ground. I'm a-comin' for ya.

Suddenly being young and free isn't so appealing. Old and settled. That's what I want right now.


Seriously, pictures do not do this abrasion justice. It hurts like a mother. An angry-yelling-at-her-kids-in-Wal-Mart-mother.

Yesterday was a fun day. Here's some pictures to prove it.

Anna and Gage at Mason's birthday party.

Gabe and Gage.

We did fireworks after presents and cupcakes. Mason is wearing his 'Super M'/Batman cape that Anna made him.

Hayden holding a Roman candle. Shweet.

Thomas and Gabe playin' with fire.

Thomas and I went up Spanish Fork Canyon after Mason's party to hang out with some friends. These are called stars. I forgot what they were like.


©2010 E. Gosney



Advice of the day:
Don't slide into second base on rock-ridden dirt without sliding pads. And don't do it twice in one game.

Two of my favorite things. Together.
Wow. I need friends. 

See more photo-graphs at ahjunkphotography.blogspot.com
©2010 E. Gosney



James and I hung out for a little while at the dentist's office while Spencer was having his tooth pulled. This was a test of my new camera.


do you ever catch yourself doing something you promised yourself you'd never do?

i do. all the time.

like whistling along to songs when the musician is not whistling.

or getting angry at innocent store clerks.

or waiting at a party for someone to talk to me instead of talking to them first.

that last one, well, that one i do most often. it's a horrible habit. self-defeating, really. i justify it by thinking, "it's ok, i have lots of friends. i don't HAVE to talk to him/her."

my oft-times wise friend told me something the other day that squashes my argument.

"do it for them," he said.

yeah, i should. maybe i don't need another friend (which is a lie, in all honesty), but maybe they do.

maybe they do.

just something to think about. mostly for me, but something for you too.

© e. gosney 2010


She knew that cookie dough was a risk. But it was a risk she willingly took.

The returns were not worth the investment, however.

Her stomach clenched, knotted, crumpled and then --


She'd never given birth, but this had to come close in terms of discomfort.

Not pain. It couldn't quite be described as such.

Discomfort. The kind that makes you want to moan and collapse on the floor.

The cookie dough tasted good, but not the second time around.

Nothing like illness to humble a person.

It was good though. This humility.

She needed to take a break from life, even if it meant a break that resembled being squashed under a piano.

At least it was quiet.

Her mind was strangely soothed, her cares blurred, her emotions diluted.

Nothing else mattered. It was just her and her stomach. And that cookie dough.

Thanks cookie dough.



What does it mean when your 7-year-old nephew says to you,

"Hey, are you married?"


"Oh, cuz you look like you are."

i love Hayden. :o)

Oh, and, p.s., it's now up to 15. Ha ha ha aaaa....


i love film. love it.

© 2010 E. Gosney


Make that 14.


Going along with the "Thoroughly Modern Millie" theme, I made this video for Catherine (I only made it into a video because I don't know how to post an audio clip.) Me and Cath used to take my mom's old TMM record and speed up the record player so it sounded, well, like this. We thought it was so hilarious. It pretty much still is.



I was thinking about Thoroughly Modern Millie in comparison to my life today. Here's what I came up with:

He was Trevor Graydon. I, Millie Dillmount. No, he wasn't my employer, nor I a stenographer, but he was beyond my reach, all the same. He didn't call me John, nor was I a "modern," but I was fooling myself, just like Millie. I was a fool for him. I didn't have a Jimmy Smith, nor do I now, but it seems the this town is crawling with Miss Dorothy Browns. And just like Millie, I call them my friends and secretly envy them. And secretly wish they'd trip in their over-priced high-heels and "real lace."

I used "nor" way too many times for such a small paragraph.


I counted. Twelve. TWELVE of my friends have gotten engaged in the past two months. And that doesn't count the 5+ marriages. It's so weird to see all my friends moving on, being "grown-ups," starting new lives. What happened to 6th grade and prank calling the guys we liked? What happened to stake dances and the first time we got to drive to them by ourselves? What happened to making fun of the adults, of crushing on the missionaries who were SO much older than us? Now I'm supposed to be a grown-up, and I'm older than all the missionaries. Sick. "Why can't things just stay as they are?" That is a great question, Jo March. Why can't they? And here's another one: What the bloody heck am I doing wrong?!


Thomas and I went up Provo Canyon today. We walked up a horse trail and found this amazing field situated in the middle of all these green hills. We even saw some deer. I used my 35 mm film camera, Thomas used my Canon Rebel, so he took these.