snow day

So I was fifteen years old. Almost sixteen, but not quite, and still riding the bus. One morning I woke up to a St. George flurry of snow. When it snowed in St. George, we would literally run out as it was falling, gather it all into a small pile, and make a miniature snowman before it stopped snowing and the sun came out to melt our fun. The snow never stuck.

But on this day, I slipped and slid over the micro inch of slick snow and ice to the bus stop. I was the only one riding the bus to high school at that point (welcome to having a really late birthday, which is really awesome if anyone was wondering), so I stood and chattered, waiting for Mrs. Lotz to cruise up in the dimly lit, foggy, shivering street. She pulled up, slid the door open, and said, "School's closed. Snow day."

I stared at her.

"There's too much snow. You can go home - school's canceled."

I stared at her.

You see, if the snow sticks at all in St. George, UT, school is canceled. People don't know how to drive, including the majority of the drivers - teenagers. So I numbly waved goodbye and slid my way back home. And then I called all my friends to talk about how rad it was that we didn't have to go to school. "Like, oh my gosh!"

In a freak accident of nature, school is canceled again in St. George today. I thought I'd share a little laugh with my Salt Lake family members and friends - this is enough snow to cancel school and shut down the city. Don't you wish you lived there?

By the way, you have to make up snow days. So our first day of summer was also canceled. Didn't so much like the snow day then.

i am the champion, my friends

So it goes a little like this: I really like WINNING. We're in the middle of our family fantasy NBA league again, and this year, I'm well positioned TO TAKE HOME THE HUGE TROPHY. (If there were a trophy, I would take it home, especially if it were huge.) As you can see, Big Blue (me) is ever languishing in second place. I'm usually there. And it's getting a little old. But I'm determined to stick it out this year. Slow and steady wins the race. Last year, I just got bored and played a bunch of games to be done, sending my ranking spiraling downward. And while it may appear that LP Rocks is kicking my trash, now would be a good time to let him know that he's played THIRTEEN MORE GAMES THAN ME. Thirteen games is plenty of time to make up 160 points. Don't even worry about it.

Now, here's the thing: my star player, Mr. Dwight Howard, is down with an injury. Of course this is the first injury in his life, and it just happens to be on my watch. Also, my second in command, Chris Kaman, injured. Dwight should be on the up and up any day, but Chris is out for the count right now. So what I need from you is some positive thinking sent my way, sent in the direction of my injured boys in particular. Because this is a close race and I need all the support I can get. So say it with me:

I'M GOING TO WIN.

(Not that I'm at all competitive.)

would you rather?

So would you rather lose the power of your thermostat during the winter, and be without heat, or during the summer, and be without air conditioning?

I think we all know what I would rather. In fact, I'm calling it a blessing that the thermostat didn't die in the summer. I would rather put on extra layers and bundle up any day than drip like a leaky faucet. Granted, I just made biscuits not so much because I want to consume them but more because I thought standing next to a warm oven after cooking them sounded nice.

But still, how grateful I am that the thermostat gave up the ghost in the winter not the summer. My tootsies are cold, not scalding, which is much easier to fix - socks. The whole scalding thing involves violent shedding of clothes. It just ain't pretty. Ask Hong Kong.

dreaming

I have a dream.

This dream features a large, clean (scrubbed by anti-bacterial formulas at least once a week) room. The walls in this room are relatively devoid of distractions, save a very legible digital clock and a ginormous flat screen TV on one wall. The walls will not, however, feature random posters that illustrate the proper way to ride a bike, run on a treadmill, or lift a weight above your head. Nor will there be any information regarding how to achieve one's target heart rate plastered about. This room will have its very own thermostat, which will maintain a steady temperature of about 65 degrees, year round. Not only will the room be perpetually (and perfectly) chilly, but it will also feature several ceiling fans, with supplemental floor fans. Large floor fans. In the center of this room, facing the TV, there will be a treadmill, an elliptical machine, and a stationary bike. The room will also be supplemented with a few choice weight machines and some free weights.

And the very best part about this room? It will be mine. I will not have to share sweat with anyone else. I won't have to endure temperatures way beyond those that any human should exercise in. I won't have to inhale the body odor of those who came before. And I won't have to watch ESPN.

Unless I want to.

bridesmaid blues

So my sister got married a couple weeks ago, right? Well she chose really random colors - pink and blue - but luckily, she managed to find a little bridesmaid frock that went with her color scheme (okay, if we're being honest, I did some of the finding). So we get these cute (and inexpensive, which was a plus) little outfits a few months ago, and call it good.

Fast forward to the evening of the reception. There was a moment, as I stood there with my fellow youthful bridesmaids, that I realized

I am old.

I don't even mean that to be like, "Poor me, I'm so old." Actually, for the most part, I really don't mind the whole getting a year older thing. Seriously. But the fact of the matter is - I'm too old to be a bridesmaid! I had this extreme urge to toss my oversized bridesmaid bouquet (seriously - they were huge) to the nearest bachelorette and run home to put something on more age appropriate, sophisticated, if you will (as my friends Stacy London and Clinton Kelly would say).

Nevertheless and notwithstanding, I remained the eldest bridesmaid for the duration of the evening. Luckily, the decor provided nice camouflage. Although being the tallest giraffe with a pink frock on tends to make one stand out anyhow. (As it turns out, I stole all the tall genes in our family.)

I informed the youngest sister, Danielle, who just turned sixteen, that I will not under any circumstances be carrying a bouquet at her wedding. She got all offended until I reminded her that I'd likely be OVER THIRTY.

Then she laughed.

sisters, sisters

So, I'm just wondering - can you tell we're related? :)

Photo courtesy of Funny Face Photography.

i confess...

...I'm having a really hard time thinking of Christmas presents. For anyone. Especially Jess. I'm seriously considering wrapping up a couple of his shirts at the bottom of his closet, throwing on orange in his stocking, and calling it good. And this isn't because I'm bah-hum-bugging. Not at all. This is because I lack creativity. Last year I managed to dream up some fun gifts, but this year, my dreams are filled with chocolate cake. (Wait. They always are.)

Not to worry - Jess has no ideas for me either. I wish I could supply him with some, but I'm pretty content this year. I just want a puppy, but I've relinquished the dog until we live in a more permanent place. That is, until we're not in school anymore and have a decent dwelling to house a mess making animal.

So...if you have any great Christmas ideas, don't bother letting Santa know. Just forward them straight to the empty brain here. Thanks much.

...I'm reading The Host again. Here's the thing - I was at home for my sister's wedding, and I saw it sitting on my mom's file cabinet. And something in my fingers told my brain that it was time to read it again. And folks, if you haven't given it a try, time to be like the little stream. (Give. It a try.) I know that the first approximately 100 pages are somewhat tedious, but if you can get through that, it's really good. A fascinating read really. And by no means is it like the most excellent literature ever written, but it's a good, entertaining read.

...We're not getting a Christmas tree this year. Okay, really though - we're not Scroogeing it here in Durham! I swear! It's just that we head out to Utah in like two weeks, and we realize that the poor little tree will be bedazzled for such a short duration of time before we have to remove its winter outfit and throw it to the curb. I think I'd rather have someone buy "our" tree and give it a home for at least a week longer than we would. Christmas trees deserve love and admiration. That said, I'm now debating - should I decorate our barstool or the kitchen table with Christmas lights? :)

five things

So every night (plus or minus a few nights when we crash and forget), Jess and I write five things we're thankful for that day. This is actually a really useful exercise, because in order to avoid the "go to" thankfuls, you get pretty creative. In light of the holiday we celebrated yesterday (celebration in my book equals consumption of ginormous amounts of potatoes and gravy, the real reason for the Thanksgiving feast), I thought I'd mention a sample five of my "thankfuls" in the last few months.

1. long sleeves: There are so many good things about fall - covering up my arms is just one of them.
2. the elliptical machine: It's not running, but I'm really grateful I've found a new and effective way to exercise. And I think my [Achilles] tendon is grateful as well. :)
3. tweezers: I'd have a couple scary eyebrows without them.
4. email: How would I even survive without it? I think it's a lovely form of communication.
5. pumpkin cookies: I successfully ate like fifteen pumpkin cookies today. They were so delicious - I used white chocolate and butterscotch chips. So yummy.

I have so much to be thankful for. In a world that sort of feels like it's crashing down around us at times, it's beautiful to be able to sit down and find five things to be grateful for every night. I'm blessed beyond anything I deserve. I have family, friends, safety, health, the gospel. Plus a whole notebookful of extras.

Happy Turkey (Potatoes & Gravy) Day.

a vampire viewing

Saw it.

So of course the book is better. I'm not sure that any cinematic version of the book could compare to the movie in my head. For starters, in my head, Edward is ATTRACTIVE. While he grew on me, I still think he's freaky looking (is the lipstick really necessary?) and totally wrong for the part. The line, "You're like my own brand of heroine," was somewhat comical. Alice on the other hand was lovely: "Oh, you do smell good!" :)

But it was good. Good enough anyhow.

And then I started thinking about all those viewers who haven't read the book. To all those viewers: this movie is going to be pretty strange. There are all sorts of holes that the book fills in. Plus, the romance between the mortal and the vampire is much easier to believe when spread over hundreds of pages instead of about fifteen minutes. Fifteen minutes is barely enough time to whip up a batch of cookies let alone bridge the gap between crazy and sane.

The verdict: those of you who read the book will get some satisfaction out of comparing your awesome brain production to the one on screen. Especially if you can do so at matinee price. :) But be forewarned - your version is better. Those who haven't read it, you might be better served by curling up on the couch for a good read of the novel.

smoke break

So my mom decided that she could use a new dog. I mean, we do have the oh-great-ancient dog (she's eight) that is as much a part of our family as the rocking chair I was rocked in. But you can always use an extra dog, right? Especially when she's cute and tiny, looks like a small fox, and wiggles when she's happy.

Too bad the previous owners didn't mention her addiction. We've got her down to a pack day. Being a dog, the whole cold turkey thing was just too confusing. Turkey, dog. Huh?

the economy hits an all time low

So the Dow plummets repeatedly, with intermittent periods of hopeful resuscitation only to be destroyed by another dip toward the bottom. Homes are in foreclosure. Banks are closing, while the largest automakers in the U.S. beg for government help. All of this in the wake of the government's 700 billion dollar rescue program designated to save the economy.

But you know things are really bad when THIS happens.

I feel like I should go buy a surplus amount to sustain us through the Circus Cookieless years. Maybe they can be cryogenically preserved.

Simply devastating.

cheney crazies

So if the average Duke student had to choose between a million dollars or a pair of tickets to a Duke basketball game, invariably, the student would choose the tickets. The games are that big of a deal.

That's why if someone asked me the same question, I'd take the million dollars.

And instead, wait in line to get a couple free tickets when they offered them to the graduate students (and their better halves). As we made ourselves comfortable in the high school size arena, the student section provided enough entertainment that the players almost seemed to be spectators. I can truthfully say I feel sorry for the opposing team, their coaches, their wives, their kids, and their dogs. The Dukies don't mince words. Also, it should be noted that we were just a few leaps away from tackling Coach K, aka, the coach of the American men's basketball team in the Beijing Olympics. Here's our awesome photo of him:

I have to say, we did indeed enjoy ourselves, despite our primo seats (are they still called seats when you're standing?) next to the not so subtle pep band. It's pretty easy to get caught up in the blown up school spirit that the Cameron Crazies bring to the game. There's not a basketball watching experience like it, that's for sure.

But still. I'd take the million dollars.

Heck, I'd take twenty.

you wish you had my calling...

Today during nursery...

Sister Cheney: Can anyone tell me what day it is today?
H: It's a HOLY day!
Sister Cheney: Yes, it's a holy day. And what do we call this holy day?
H: Sunday!
Sister Cheney: That's right. It's Sunday today. And what do we do on Sundays?
H: Go to chowch!
Sister Cheney: Right. Now what's the most important part of Sunday (pointing to picture of Jesus)?
H: Jesus!
G: And chocolate milk!

i confess...

...I love soy milk. Love, love it. And I loved it even before the real stuff made me ill. I think real milk tastes disgusting. As though it came out of a cow, perhaps. But soy milk just tastes yummy. As though it didn't come out of a cow. Perhaps.

...I don't like my fingernails painted, not even clear polish. I feel like they can't breathe. I mean, I realize that they don't exactly have a mouth and/or nostrils to do the breathing, but they just feel so trapped. On the other hand, I love my toenails painted. Apparently my toenails have evolved - they can breathe even when being smothered by lacquer.

...Even though I love winter (yes, I'm one of those people - I even love snow), I'm secretly sad as I watch the leaves falling. Right out our front window, there are some beautiful trees (see here for pictures), and they're particularly beautiful as the sun sets. I love sitting on the couch in the evening, watching them light on fire. Their colors are vibrant and strong. Almost as though they have more life than the simple, beautiful urge to grow, change colors, and fall.

i can't hear you

"Nother" is a word. Its use is of the informal variety, but it shows up in dictionaries, nonetheless.

I think I might cry.

I've been hearing this usage on TV, and every time, I cringe and close my eyes until the nightmare has passed and people have started speaking normal English again.

I get where this comes from - another. In my own entirely unpassionate opinion, I really feel like the word "another" should not be split into "a" and "nother" by placing a word in between, as in "a whole nother story." It's kind of like someone dragging their fingernails down a chalkboard. A gross, grating separation of syllables that bounces around in my brain, trying to be reconciled, without any success BECAUSE IT'S A FAKE WORD.

If you use the word "nother," I probably still like you. (Probably.) And I probably won't correct you. (Probably.) I can't really, because I have no book evidence to prove you wrong. It's just me and my own personal preferences to keep the language clean and precise.

It's just me against the world. Me against the nothers. And the apostrophe abusers.

But that's a whole OTHER story.

home cooked

So Jess and I made our second annual trip to the Blue Ridge Parkway. Sad to say, we're about two weeks too late for the leaves at their colorful peak, but it was beautiful nonetheless. For two kids from Utah, it feels almost like a fairy tale to drive through the rolling hills of Virginia, red barns with spotted cows grazing as though someone didn't put them there for picture purposes.

The highlight of the trip, however, may have been our traditional stop at Cracker Barrel. Jess and I have a thing for this neighborhood restaurant (located approximately every four miles along the Interstate in NC). And it's not just the fact that you can order ginormous plates of home cooked food for decent prices. Nor is it the fact that everything is breaded and fried just right, just enough to satisfy your taste for grease, but not too much to stop your heart. I think it's more because you yourself feel home cooked. As you sit there surrounded by paraphernalia (fake or real, we haven't been able to determine - but really, are there like warehouses of vintage junk that Cracker Barrel maintains "just in case"?), you pretty much feel like your grandparents are sitting at every other table, some second cousins at the others (the ones you pretend you don't know on account of the fact that if you become too friendly, they might actually show up at your house, with their RV).

I love how people come in and say hello to their waiter as though they know him. (Because they do, and actually they saw him that morning. For breakfast.) I love that they can order without looking at the menu: "I'll take the chicken fried steak with a side of fried chicken. For my veggies, corn swimming in butter, carrots soaked in sugar, oh and a fried salad. Dressing on the side."

I can't get enough of that place. This whole NC place ain't too shabby. Have a look.

treat or treat

So every year my mom makes chili and sweet rolls for Halloween. The chili used to take three days (seriously) to reach its perfection. Due to its cooking duration, the smell literally seeped into our very beings, but when it comes to chili, this was worth the risk of eating your hair (Pantene was lost to the chili and your senses would become confused). In recent years, she's found a new recipe for chili that can be made the day you intend to eat it that is equally delicious. Actually I like it better. (Um, hi - it has cocoa in it - could life get any better?)

So this year, I am going to make...

sugar cookies.

Perhaps chili. If I feel like it.

All I know is that after this AWESOME month of not eating sugar cookies or other sweet treats, I'm very focused on SUGAR COOKIES. Not chili. Not sweet rolls.

Plus sweet rolls call for kneading, rolling, watching. They scare me. And sugar cookies don't require that I take their temperature to ensure that they taste heavenly and satisfy my intense craving for the stuff that is cane.

So if I disappear from social engagements for the next few days it is because I have slipped into a sugar cookie induced coma. A sublime, cookie-induced coma.

And I'd like to be left alone. :)

my very own vampire

Sometimes people tell me I remind them of Bella from the Twilight series. So I suppose I shouldn't be surprised...

Take the Quiz and Share Your Results!

Now wait a minute. If I'm Bella, does that mean that Jess is a...

in the leafy treetops

So among the many reasons to love fall, the changing leaves are definitely among the best. I snapped these just outside in what I suppose you could term our "front yard," if by front yard you mean the parking lot we share with several tenants that is pleasantly cushioned by trees.

Also, it should be noted that it's sixty degrees in our apartment (thanks to an open window), and I have no intention of turning the heat on.

Best time of year, fo' shizzle.

i confess...

...I could really use a sugar cookie right now. Topped with sugar. With a side of sugar. Please.

...I don't like water. Well, I do, but only when I'm working out. I'm trying really hard to learn how to enjoy it otherwise. I spent several years of my life guzzling it, so I'm not sure why I experience such an aversion now. My best trick is Crystal Light - virtually sugar free, but still drinking water. The good news is that when I'm sweating it out, I love the substance that is devoid of flavor. I crave it. I also love working out. Maybe I should work out longer, thereby increasing my water intake.

Or not. Because I also love napping. :)

...I'm actually excited to see Twilight (the movie, comes out 11.21.08). I have a natural inclination to move away from the trendy, but I can say that I read Twilight before the madness began. My sister was working at a bookstore and convinced me to read this "vampire book." So I got hooked first, so there. ;) And I still maintain that I don't approve of the duration of the series. It really could've ended sooner. And while I loved the first book (Twilight), I actually have to say that I loved The Host (not in the series, but by the same author) even more.

So there. :)

P.S. How many of you did NOT picture Edward looking like that? Um, he looks scary. If I recall correctly, he was more on the attractive side. This? I'd say more on the "I want to eat your neck, and actually I'm just made of stone not actually stoned, as it may appear" side.

potty humor

So Jess accidentally drops a bar of soap in the toilet. He thinks it's so funny, but I'm all stressed about the sweet smelling cube drowning in our bathroom, and the fact that her majesty may need to visit the throne some time soon. So although I don't really want to, the perma mom in me starts trudging to the bathroom to fish it out, as I'd rather have it removed than forget about it and send it cruising with a careless flush. But Jess jumps up and says, "No! No! I'll take care of it! It's my fault! I've got it!"

Then I hear the toilet flush.

If anyone was wondering, it takes roughly TWO DAYS for a bar of soap to dissolve in the inner workings of a toilet.

bee day

He's twenty-nine years young today.

Sometimes I feel bad that I missed the first twenty-seven. Especially the high school years.

Because I'm pretty sure I would've cheated off him in Pre Cal. Like totally. :)

i confess...

...I get extremely irritated by those who insist on working out without deodorizing. Now I understand that one might forget to grab their Secret if they're like running out the door in a hurry. It happens to everyone, right? I also get that when you're in Hong Kong it's just inevitable that at one point or another you will sweat the deodorant off anyhow, thereby blending into the natural stench of the city. But when you're headed to go WORK OUT, the implications include SWEAT. And sweat should involve DEODORANT.

...I have all seven seasons of Gilmore Girls on DVD. I love them. The Gilmore girls, that is. I've watched every season a few times at least (except the last season because it's DEPRESSING and I think the show totally deserves an eighth season to fix the disaster that was the seventh). I guess I haven't really watched them, per say. Usually I just put them on when I'm by myself, something to fill the empty space. When I was single, living alone, I had two roommates, and their names were both Gilmore. When Jess is gone all day at school, Gilmore. And when Jess is gone for the weekend, you better believe these girls are keeping me company. I like their quick wit, their mother-daughter bond, the inside humor that sometimes you don't get until like the fifth viewing.

If I ever get a dog, I'm naming it Gilmore.

...I LOVE FALL. On Wednesday it was eighty seven degrees. Today the Fall Fairy came to visit with a beautiful handful of fairy dust in the form of fifty eight degrees. With its leafy treetops, it seems that the whole of North Carolina morphs each fall. I absolutely love how beautiful the leaves are, how they change into something entirely new. It's pretty sad when they morph again, into winter. But not to worry as the popcorn will be popping in no time.

dreaming big

So lately I've been having troubles sleeping. My dreams include the following highlights:

1. Back at home in St. George, there was a ginormous tarantula up in the corner of our very tall vaulted ceiling. And how did my mom get it down? With the GARDEN HOSE of course. I remember being perfectly mortified that she was spraying the hose in the house making this disaster of a mess.

2. I woke up (in my dream), and I had pink chunks of hair. It wasn't cute, if you were wondering.

3. So I found out that you could go to ZCMI (um, ZCMI hasn't even been around for years) before they opened and work out on their sports equipment, like the floor models. It was an underground operation that some employees had going on - renting out the equipment that was for sale. Hey, it only cost one dollar. I wasn't complaining.

In the old days, I would fall asleep before my hair even began to take the shape of the pillow. Maybe I miss my Asian beds made chiefly out of particle board. Perhaps my spine had become aligned with the grains of wood. And now it's trying to mold itself to a pillow top, which is just causing all sorts of REM interruptions.

Late onset insomnia. That's what I have.

PHOTO: Jess captured this cheetah at the National Zoo in a blink. Or maybe he's sleeping standing up because he too dreams of pink spots in his hair.

vote for pedro

So Jess had a great idea: How about these incessant political campaign ads be relegated to their very own channel. That way, those who want to methodically pull their hair out, STRAND BY STRAND, can just flip to the Kill Me Channel and watch dirty campaigning to their hearts' content.

And the rest of us can just be happy that IT'S ALMOST NOVEMBER and this will all be over soon.

the king

Simba:
Everybody look left,
Everybody look right,
Everywhere you look, I'm
Standing in the spot light.

Zazu:
Not yet!

Jess snapped this while at the National Zoo this weekend. Every time I look at it, I start singing the Lion King. But it's no wonder this animal is called king. He looks so regal. I'm pretty sure I'd do whatever he asked, and not only because he'd eat me if I didn't. His sweet mane deserves some respect as well.

anniversed

So we went to (where else?) D.C. for our anniversary. It's totally our "go to" place. Amazing place, lots of free things to do, but even more - the free things are beautiful, inspiring, educational. The following about sums it up:

1. Our hotel was the convention location of ANIME U.S.A 2008. Okay. Seriously? It was like I was back in Tokyo, but backwards. Imagine several hundred white people (aged 16-25) trying to look like Japanese youth trying to make a statement. Which means they took the Harajuku look to the tenth power. Wigs, artificial battle wounds, ninja outfits, plus your classic Nintendo characters floating around. NOT NORMAL. But then the more we thought about it, the more we kind of liked the idea of these people having a place where they could go and have friends and be themselves.

It's kind of like when I go to the store. Luckily, myself doesn't require the use of moon boots or a pink wig.

2. We try to do one new thing every time we go to D.C. This time we stopped in Virginia at the Udvar-Hazy Air & Space Museum. If you have children, particularly those who think they can fly or those who want to fly, it's worth a visit. It's an absolutely amazing collection of aircraft dating back to the Wright boys and including the Enola Gay, a Lockheed Blackbird, and a Concorde. My heart has a little tender spot for flight and aircraft - the papa is a private pilot and he's worked at SkyWest Airlines for an eternity. I also did a little stint at the airline (not as a flight attendant because I know that's what you were going to ask, actually in the Communications Department - makes more sense right?). So the museum made me feel right at home.

Note: It does cost twelve buckos to park there, it is in no way near the other Smithsonian museums, but I think it's totally worth it.

3. For our anniversary dinner, we didn't really have a location in mind. In fact, we were suited up to head downtown to take night shots after dinner. So off we go looking like we stepped right out of Tourists 'R' Us. Then we smelled steak. Really yummy, delicious, aromatic steak. If I were Japanese I'd call it yummy and yummy so much. The aroma picked us up and deposited us - in our jeans, flip flops, back pack, the whole bit - in the lobby of Ruth's Chris Steak House.

I'm pretty sure that as we marched back to our table (heads held high), a woman with hair just as high dropped a hunk of steak onto her bedazzled skirt as she witnessed the spectacle that was us.

What?

I know, you're trying to decide if you're embarrassed or if you're secretly jealous that we ate really delicious steak. IN. OUR. JEANS.

we said yes

One year ago today, we said "yes."

I said yes to waking up to a redhead every morning. He said yes to waking up to a girl with hair in various states of sticking in the air, make up smudged under her eyes. I said yes to college football, followed shortly thereafter by the NBA season. He said yes to Ghost Whisperer, American Idol and a lifetime supply of Sprite Zero. He said yes to plans, lists, organization, and precise time. I said yes to (a little) spontaneity, going with the flow (all the way to Asia). He said yes to bathroom accouterments taking residence in his bathroom, which he'll never even have the occasion to use. I said yes to pulling the shower curtain closed every day. He said yes to my (matching and coordinated) bed set. I said yes to his elbow in my face in the middle of the night (we're down to once in a while now). He said yes to air conditioning in the winter. I said yes to cooking red meat, even eating it.

We said yes to nighttime belly laughs, postponed praying because we can't stop giggling. We said yes to "I love yous" every day. We said yes to dinners on our mini tables because the dinner table is currently supporting his law degree. We said yes to two hour road trips (everything's two hours away here), half day flights to far off lands. We said yes to walking through the bright lights of Tokyo's downtown night life, the lush gardens of the Imperial Palace. We said yes to thousands of photos. We said yes to Legos, lots and lots of Legos. We said yes to hashing it out, living life together, believing in each other.

We said yes to each other. Here's to many, many, many more years of yes.

Happy One Year Jess.

heating up

So is it normal that at 5:30 a.m. ON THE DOT every morning, I wake up in overheat mode? I'm pretty sure my room transforms into Hades, so I wake up clawing at sheets and blankets. And then I go look at the thermostat, which informs me that I AM NOT WELL because it isn't hot. In fact, some people in this world would be able to feel a "chill" in the air. And that would by why when I go back to bed, Jess is still snuggling under not only the regular bed details but also his beloved sleeping bag, which is allowed to rest only on top of him because we all know that I need no extra layers.

This whole being hot thing is a part of my life. I just wish it weren't a part of my life at 5:30 in the morning.

the solution

So I watch CNN while I run. I can't really hear it because I still have my ipod in my ears helping my unwilling feet keep time, so I mostly just watch it, sometimes read the captioning. And for the last several weeks I've been watching the market TANK. It's like a big wooden spoon stirred up the economy to a nice creamy consistency then dumped it out, all over Wall Street.

Now I do not understand the stock market. Zero understanding. So for me, I look at this situation, and I'm pretty sure it's an easy fix. With the worldwide media coverage we have these days, the majority of the humans on this planet have access to some sort of form of media, even if it's simply by word of mouth. So why in the world don't we just publish in all newspapers, broadcast on all news stations all over the world a big fat message in like 72 point font that says: "Chill out. Stop freaking out. Just let things be for TWO SECONDS." I realize that this approach would not only put our men and women on Wall Street out of a job, but also make them extremely bored. However, their blood pressure would decrease, the pressure on the economy would decrease. And we could all just SETTLE DOWN.

I so missed my calling in life as an economist.

nectar of life

So between General Conference sessions, Jess and I paid a visit to Duke Gardens. Now even though it's eighty toasty degrees outside today, fall is still determined to break through. Leaves are starting to fall, others to change color, and we couldn't be more excited. On the way in, we passed some flowers that were being smothered by butterflies and ginormous bumble bees. I'm pretty sure these florals have Sprite Zero for nectar, because even with a camera lens extended in their faces, they weren't about to leave their cache of yumminess behind.

I totally know how they feel. I often find my lips attached to a can of the stuff too.