Identity Crisis…

One of the young adults asked me recently, “Does it seem weird that your best friends are in their early 20’s?”  It doesn’t seem weird to me, but perhaps it should.  When we are through here, will it be an adjustment to go back to friends of our own age?  I don’t think so.  People of all ages have always been interesting and fun to me.  When I’m with the YSA, I forget sometimes that I’m old enough to be their grandmother.  Trevor wanted us to play the ninja game at his birthday party.  I used all the moves I learned from ‘Karate Kid’ (complete with sound effects) to slice through fruit on his big screen TV.  I was simply amazing.  Until the next morning.  I wondered if I was having a heart attack because of the pain when I tried moving my right arm.  When the left arm was equally painful, I remembered my ninja moves and realized I was simply stiff, sore, and OLD.  Yesterday I thought I was one of the kids, today I feel older than my 61 years.  My face feels heavy and tired, like it will take all my energy to smile.  I know that will probably last until Family Home Evening tonight—the kids will come and so will youthful energy.  It’s magic.  Back and forth I go; old, young, old, young, etc.

We visited the Antarctic Center this week with the Bourne’s. 

I suppose it is as close as I’ll ever get to that continent.  We rode in a Hagglund—a Swedish military vehicles used to drive around the Antarctic.  It was a bumpy and entertaining ride.

Alistair, our driver, took us over steep hills (these vehicles can climb up a 45 degree slope) and through a shallow lake (they are also amphibious). 

One room at the center produces an Arctic storm for five minutes so that visitors can experience the winds and the temperature.  They take the temperature down to 20 degrees below with high winds.  Before the storm…

And during…

It reminded me of waiting for the school bus in Logan with winds blowing out of the canyon.  Frozen face.

This is Mo a tiny blue penguin that has been rescued and lives at the center.  He has a paralyzed flipper, a damaged beak, and is about 17 years old.  In the wild they only live about 7 years, but in captivity, they can reach 20.  One of the workers let me get very close to Mo, but I wasn’t allowed to touch him.  I guess the oils from our skin are not good for penguins.

I love Mo!  I would love to take him home to my grandkids.  That would be a good souvenir.

This picture has no significance.  I just like it.

We also went down to the Ashburton Branch’s party on Saturday night.  They had a huge feast and then a dance at the city center in Rakaia (about 20 minutes south of Ashburton).  It was great fun.  President Pangia was very good at getting everyone out on the dance floor.  Here John dances with Marina, one of my piano students,

and I do my best with my youngest friends.

No wonder I’m tired.  Early mornings, late nights…I wouldn’t have it any other way.