TMI

Hmmm, wow, this is really personal. I'm not at all sure that I should be putting this out there. Of course, if you've known me for more than 20 years you may or may not already know the basics. Obviously it has taken me a while to get here. I kept telling myself that I just didn't feel like blogging. Seriously, I just didn't feel like blogging this. Also, I only have about a quarter page after this written. It really does get better from here. This is just the biggest molehill we had hit so far and I've struggled with writing the rest. Really, (spoiler alert) this is the climax and from here the falling action is just a bunch of lovey dovey, let's get married crap.

Well, apparently I'm willing to sacrifice dignity for...wait, what is this for? Fame, fortune, no. My "craft", perhaps. Attention, maybe, but as I cringe, I'm guessing that's not it in this case anyway. I guess I just don't care all that much about my dignity. If you could not mention to my husband that I've thrown him under the bus as well, that would be great. So, here goes...

We’d come full circle, back to New Year’s Eve, although this time I was pretty sure I would have a date. I just had no idea how that date would end.

The big dance was to be held at Fiesta Mall in Mesa. The church, the institute, someone… had rented Fiesta Mall in order to keep our precious young adults off the streets on NYE. Of course, they’d gone to the best to dj the dance and our buddy Dennis performed admirably as always. He was there with his adorable wife, Alisa. They had been pretty wrapped up in each other and hadn’t really been on the single scene anymore, so we hadn’t seen them for a while. When we went up to say hi, David and I were holding hands. Dennis was in shock. I honestly don’t know how this could have slipped past him, but he really was surprised that we were dating. I’ll leave that to him to explain.

We hung out with our friends, danced, and wandered the open areas of the mall. Finally, a year later, I got that midnight kiss from the one person with whom I had hoped to share it.

We had a lovely evening and played and had fun. We seemed to be getting closer to each other with each passing minute, which is probably why now suddenly seemed like the time to talk about our feelings.

Oh, feelings. Why do they always have to get in the way? In my mind, we were getting pretty serious. I did now possess a ring that had “I love you, David ‘90” inscribed in it. I thought there was no way I could have a secret from this guy. I decided now was the time to tell him that I had kissed his friend while he was away. It wasn’t really a big deal, after all to quote a famous dork, “We were on a break!” However, I didn’t want that guy to know something that David didn’t.

We got to my house after the dance and sat in the car “talking” for a while. I finally mustered up the courage to tell him. He was upset and I was upset and then we laughed about it and kissed and made up.

Then he told me that he had something he wanted to tell me as well. Deep Breath! Did I remember back when that girl came to visit from Alaska? Um, well yes, I did. It was only a few months ago. Well, apparently there was a little more to the story that didn’t really seem all that relevant at the time. Apparently he may have sort of underestimated the time that they spent kissing. He felt really bad about it and was so sorry, and I cried.

Now what was I supposed to do? I had just told him that I had kissed one of his best friends, but it was when we weren’t even really dating. But of course, we broke up pretty much every other week. But we weren’t broken up when he kissed this girl. What did this mean for our relationship? Top all this info exchange with the fact that it is somewhere dark thirty in the am on New Year’s Day. What drama!

I am about to press enter and put this onto the interwebs like a crazy person. Here goes... 

Dental disaster

I read once (on another blog, whose writer was probably jealous of certain blogs that we all know and love) that "Mormon" blogs are so lame because they only show one side of life. They are always positive and never let the reader see that their lives are not perfect. (If you never read "Seriously, So Blessed" you should look and see if it's still up. I heard the writer stopped. It is a hilarious spoof on the Mormon blog)
I think I'm somewhere in the middle. I'm definitely far from perfect and don't try to appear so. However, I also think, who wants to listen to Debbie Downer all of the time? So I sometimes vent here and sometimes not.
Today was more frustrating than life.
A little history, when we moved to So Pho, we continued to go to our family dentist that we had for years. Things were fine. After moving to Chandler, we decided that Phoenix was a little far to drive to go to the dentist, especially considering the plethora of dentists here.
There is an awesome dentist in our ward. If anyone needs a dentist, go see Marshall Hanson at Fountains Family Dental. He rocks! David went to Dr. Hanson and had fabulous work done to repair some old dental work. He bought their firm insurance and paid about the same that our insurance would have required. It was a big job.
Anyway, I took the girls to Dr. Hanson. They love him just like everyone else does. He is very gentle and kind. Unfortunately, the insurance didn't make nearly the same dent in the cost of Lauren's 6 cavities and Emma's sealant that she needs. So, we had to find someone different.
I searched the listings on the insurance website. The few reviews that I could find for dentists on the list were not good. Most, I couldn't find anything about. The several dentists that I know where not on the list. Frustration! Finally, I found a pediatric dentist that had good reviews and called them to set up an appointment. During the phone call the receptionist pointed out that since they specialized, instead of the insurance paying 80%, they would pay 20%. This wouldn't work for me.
I started looking again. I finally found a dentist that I hadn't noticed before, right down the street. I made the appt. We waited 2 weeks for Lauren to get home from Utah.
This morning we got up and went to the dentist. I sat filling out sheet after sheet of paper work. I talked to the receptionist about the insurance that we have. We had discussed it on the phone. SRP uses Delta and EDS. We have EDS. I'm not sure how this became confusing. Lauren is now in the chair, getting xrays and finding out that in the past 3 months, even more cavities have developed.
The receptionist calls EDS and while they are partners with the parent company, this dentist is not in their network. Somehow, I managed to get their address and phone number from my insurance web site, but they will not pay for the dental work. I pay for the work they have done so far on Lauren, but she still has a mouth full of cavities, Emma still doesn't have sealants, and I still have to go home and find ANOTHER different dentist for them to go to, all in the 2 weeks before school starts. I really wanted to punch someone in the face!

What does it all mean?

So, I'm back from Utah. Except that I've actually been back for over a week. Instead of staying up in Koosharem for the 4th, we thought that my mom had a heart attack and came home on the 26th. So we've been spending time with the rest of the family that came to town and fighting with Mom to not overdo, when she is a classic overdoer.

Well, I think I will post the next installment of the David saga.

In my family, we have always gotten together with the extended Bogle family on Christmas Eve and then had a quieter Christmas at home and visiting my Pickering grandparents. After Grandpa Pickering died, Grandma would usually come to our house, or even sometimes come to dinner at Grandma and Grandpa Bogle’s. This was a big to-do. All of the cousins that lived in town and often the ones who didn’t would gather for a traditional Mexican dinner of tamales and chalupa. I’m not exactly sure where our chalupa comes from, but it is heaven. Start with a base of corn tortilla chips, top with the chalupa (pork, pinto beans, and green chili) and all the fixings, cheese, lettuce, tomato, avocado, salsa, sour cream. Later in the evening, Grandma would bust out the ice cream cake from Baskin Robbins. Every year, without fail, this was Christmas Eve dinner. This year, I had let my Grandma know that I would have a guest coming with me. Oh My Gosh! (To paraphrase The Fantastic Mr. Fox, It’s kind of a big deal, so don’t just say okay.) This was David meeting my entire family. Think My Big Fat Greek Wedding except in a parallel universe where everyone is kind of midwesternish and less dancy.

Now would probably be the time to mention the missing member of my family. My older brother, the one who had teased me and tormented me and overprotected me from other boys, was in the army, stationed in Germany. We were in a constant state of waiting to hear if he was deployed to fight against Saddam Hussein. His wife and daughter were with him, probably wondering a lot more than we were. At least I didn’t have to worry about anyone commenting on the size of my plate in relation to the size of other things.

In my opinion, the evening at Grandma and Grandpa’s went well. We had the traditional tearing into the presents from relatives. Grandma wrapped up a bag full of pistachios for David. He seemed appreciative. I’m sure my Grandma wondered about that too, what to gift this boy who really hadn’t been defined as yet. Of course, I knew that we grew pistachios and we had the same giant box full in our cupboard at home that my grandparents did. But hey, she did wrap it up in a gift bag.

Afterwards, we got to the big show. David and I went out on our own. I gave him his beautiful box (that I had pain-stakingly rewrapped). And he gave me a bag. I pulled out a big white teddy bear. Kind of typical. Kind of boring. Kind of wearing a ring.

No, not that kind of ring! But a ring none the less.

It was a gold band, a pinky ring, with “♥ I love you, David ‘90” engraved inside. Well, let the wondering begin! What did this mean? Or did it mean anything? It was definitely time to talk.

We’d come full circle, back to New Year’s Eve, although this time I was pretty sure I would have a date. I just had no idea how that date would end. 

Holidays are fun!

Well, we're headed off to Utah for a while so this is the last installment for about 10 days or 2 weeks, whichever comes first.

So, about a week later, we’re at his sister Karen’s house for Thanksgiving dinner. Everything was going swimmingly, ya, that’s a good word, swimmingly. His family was all very nice. Of course, I’d already met his Mom and Dad spending time at their house. (Actually meeting them for the first time has dissolved from my memory.) Now I got to meet his older sister and her 6 kids. She had just had a baby about a week and a half before, and was now hosting Thanksgiving dinner at her house. Ya, that’s not intimidating. David’s other sister was in rehab at the time.

I held the baby and enjoyed Thanksgiving dinner. New for me, to have stuffing with nuts in it and things just slightly skewed from the traditional dinner I was used to and had never experienced with another family before. The little kids ran all over the house. This part was my element, having 7 younger siblings myself. It was all very family and holiday. David was sweet and I was happy.

Now, you can see that our holiday history was sort of hit and miss and of course we had the biggie right around the corner. “Christmas is coming the goose is getting fat.” My dad loved to sing this little ditty and remind me of the way I would sing it as a little girl. “Tristmas is toming, the doose is detting fat.”  This year, I stressed about what to do with this semi-permanent boyfriend. I thought things were getting more serious, but I had thought that before. What do you get for the person you want to spend every minute for time and all eternity with? And what is he going to read into it? And what will he get me? (Not that he has to get me anything.) And what will it mean? I finally decided to get David a nice, brand-name sweatshirt. I put everything I felt about our relationship into the packaging. I picked out a nice, masculine, striped wrapping paper. I gently wrapped tissue around the article inside the crisp, square box. I lined up the stripes so that they matched perfectly, wrapped ribbon around, and attached a large bow. It was perfect.

One day, I came home from work at the local radio shack to find my beautiful present destroyed. The story was that my little brother had unwrapped the present because it was so pretty. (He was about 8. Something was fishy and I didn’t really buy it, but the parallels with my relationship were pretty eerie. I just hoped that this was not foreshadowing. 

Oh we just love the drama!

So, life went on with David and me going to movies, dancing, hanging out with friends, etc. And by etc, I mean there was some kissing going on. We were a little old fashioned. Exclusive dating meant that a kiss goodnight was once again a part of the plan. We were actually pretty good at this part and thought that practice would make us even better. We were right. We would practice at his house, my house, in his driveway, my driveway, but perhaps my favorite was the stop light kiss. The implication, of course, was that we couldn’t stand to not kiss, even long enough to drive down the street. David was actually quite good at knowing how long a stop light would last. We only got honked at once or twice.

As the holidays approached, David told me that a friend of his from his mission in Alaska was coming to visit. He would need to spend a little time with her, yes, her.

Long Pause.

I could be an understanding girlfriend. After all, we were in a loving, somewhat committed relationship, right? I was the one invited to spend Thanksgiving with him and his family at his sister’s house. I really, really tried to think positive thoughts, and not so much about the rocky past of our relationship. Unfortunately, the brain will have thoughts that the mind does not want to have.

On the Friday night that David was supposed to spend with “Alaska girl”, (shouldn’t there be a rule against the Friday night friend visit?) I ended up staying home. (Somehow, asking why we couldn’t all just hang out together never crossed my mind.) Later, that evening, a little before 10 o’clock, David called to tell me that he’d taken her home, and asked if he could come over. Silly, naïve me, took this for a good sign, my sweet boyfriend wanted to hang out with me and had taken this intruder home early.

Of course, I agreed that David should come over and when he arrived, we went for a walk outside. I lived in a little agricultural enclave where tamarisk and eucalyptus trees grew at least 80 feet tall and the old redneck joke about turning off the paved road definitely applied. It was a perfect place for a moonlit walk.

We held hands and walked and talked. David seemed a little nervous, but I didn’t really think too much about it. After some small talk, he turned to me very seriously and told me that he needed to tell me something.

I can’t really remember the conversation, I’m pretty sure I’ve blocked it from my memory. The gist was that “Alaska girl” had kissed him and he hadn’t really tried to stop her very quickly. I couldn’t decide if this was dubious or devastating. Did I believe that this stranger had gone in for the kiss? Was the fact that he had fallen for it a deal-breaker? Should it matter that he had felt the need to come right over to confess? Somewhere in the back of my head I remembered that I had kissed someone that David didn’t know about either. Would that make it easier to forgive him? Did that even count, seeing as how we were “on a break”? Was forgiving him what he was looking for? Would the heart-pounding, heart-stopping contradiction of emotions ever calm?

Evidently, forgiveness was what he was looking for because he was apologizing profusely. I’m pretty sure that I cried, although like I said, it’s all pretty hazy. I’m pretty sure he cried too, because he’s good like that. 

I heart the Ice Cream Nazi

So on the way back from camp, with Megan, Lauren, Emma, and Matti in the car, we decided to stop for a little bit in Pine. The Strawberry festival was going on and we couldn't resist. We were all in pajama pants, hadn't showered, probably didn't smell very good, and didn't really care.

The girls headed off to see what they could see while Meg and I spent a few minutes drooling over the cutco knives. They returned after a few minutes searching for kettle corn money.

We headed off to see what else was around, specifically a bathroom, as we'd been using port-a-johns for the last 4 days.

We happened upon a place called "Tornado Fries".

This is pretty much what it looked like. It reminded me of one of my favorite fair foods ever (which Elise knows the true name of) that are best doused with malt vinegar and salt. Well, they didn't have vinegar, but they had a wide variety of flavored salts, including vinegar flavored. While I rushed off to find a restroom, the girls decided to make it a sampler with a variety of the different salts. Later, I tried it and was underwhelmed. The potatoes were thicker and softer than I was expecting, which was more the original curly chips, like this:

butterfly fries, picture by ljc@flickr

So the girls are eating the lame-o tornado potato and we head down to the infamous delicious homemade ice cream shop. We pause to read the myriad of signs on the door, including one that says something to the effect of, No sodas, not even cans, we sell soda here. Ok, none of us has a drink, so I figure, we're good, and we head inside. The girl behind the counter immediately starts asking Lauren about the potato on a stick. "Where did you get it?" "That's so cool." "Is it good?"

Then the little old lady comes out from the back room. She pats Lauren on the shoulder and says, "Honey, I'm gonna give you a tip. You don't take food from one establishment into another. Just a little tip for you."
I'm thinking, "There is a festival going on outside your door. You do not sell fries, potatoes, or anything other than ice cream and desserts. I'm buying ice cream for everyone in my group. How does this potato affect you?" I didn't think it was quite like having my kid bring her happy meal into dinner at McCormick & Schmick. But, I bit my tongue.

Then the people next to us were discussing buying ice cream for their grandson, who couldn't eat the cone. They said, "We'd like one scoop of strawberry in a bowl, please." She replied, "Do you want to get the child's cone? It's smaller and cheaper." They responded, "Well, he can't eat the cone, but..." Ice Cream Nazi interjects, "That wasn't the question."

I'm thinking, Well, it kind of was the question. If you're gonna get all up in their face, be more specific with your line of questioning.

photo-Terry Richardson's Diary

So, I still got strawberry ice cream and it was good. Everyone else seemed to enjoy theirs as well, but I'm wondering if it was worth the degradation.

I need to look and see if that shop from (wait for it, Megan) Mystic, Connecticut takes online orders.

Aaahh, camp!

I chose this picture specifically because you can't really see any faces and I don't need anyone's permission. I just wanted to write a little blurb about what I did last week. 

In April I was thoroughly enjoying myself teaching a little class at church and avoiding anything really hard. Right before my birthday, the Bishop called me in and asked if I'd be the new young women's president, since ours was moving away.

I had carefully avoided being asked to go to girls camp, knowing that camping in tents was a little more "back to nature" than I really wanted to get. Apparently, avoidance was no longer an option and I was going to Long Valley, AZ with 9 first years, 3 second years, one 3rd year,  2 4th yrs who would join us later, and 6 ycls (youth camp leaders) who would wave to us as they walked by with their charges. One of the newbies and one of the ycls were my very own girls.

Everyone told me that it would be cold and possibly wet. I continually checked the weather channel app on my phone. I bought a new sleeping bag, I took a blanket and extra socks. 

There was a very dedicated lady called as Camp Director and a super organizer called as Food Specialist. I even managed to finagle it so that my little sister went with me. (ok, Meg, it wasn't really me who sent you there, but I was sure glad you were there.) These people ran things, and I was just there as a warm body to help corral girls and put away dishes.

Driving to camp, listening to loud music, I started to think this might actually be fun. We were pumped and the girls were all so sweet. I felt sure I could handle this. I didn't even notice that backs of my hands burning under the windshield as I drove.

When we got to camp, everyone pitched in to help get set up. All of the girls were so cooperative and helpful. I was in heaven! We sat down in the cool mountain air to eat the lunches we had packed. It didn't phase me in the least that we were the last ward to arrive, the last camp set up, and had the most girls. We finished our lunches in plenty of time to show up for orientation, and I was happy!

After dinner, we went out to a little stage in the woods and enjoyed a presentation, silly camp songs and all. I noticed that it was starting to get a little chilly, but not really a big deal with my nice warm hoodie on. I did talk to a dear friend of mine who had gone up the day before to help get camp ready. She had frozen the night before and hadn't slept at all. I thought, "This poor dear must not have a super, low-rated, xl sleeping bag like mine. I'll let her use my blanket tonight so that she can get some sleep. Ah, warm feeling inside.

By the time we got back to camp and cheerily prepared for bed, the warm feeling had dissipated and I was feeling cold. The thought of changing into pajamas was a bit daunting. I put on my warmest jammie pants, a long sleeve shirt, put my hoodie back on and thought about how wonderful it was that someone had sent up some hand warmers for us to use. 

I climbed into my xl sleeping bag and quickly realized that a mummy bag is not designed for an xl woman. I could barely zip the zippers up all the way around my shoulders and it was difficult to move. Not only that, but  my face was freezing when it was exposed to the air and I couldn't breathe when my face was inside the bag! The hand warmer did keep what ever part of me it was touching warm, but that was about it. Someone had suggested putting our clothes for the next day in the bottom of our sleeping bag to keep them warm. They were cold.

Although I was told later that I may have snored, just a little bit, it felt like I didn't sleep at all. I got up some time in the middle of the night to go to the lovely porta-john. It was a wee bit cold. Teeth chattering, I headed back to the tent, rummaged through my suitcase and put on another pair of pajama pants and another hoodie, then crawled back into my tight sleeping bag. It didn't help AT ALL. I did figure out around this time that if I slid way down into my bag, I could curl up in a ball and turn. Somehow, the middle of the bag was wider, like it was built for a very slender, yet pregnant person. However, I still had that claustrophobic, lack of breathing problem. So it was defrost face inside sleeping bag, lower bag, gasping for air and freeze, hide back inside bag.

In the morning I wondered how I would ever survive the day after having gotten no sleep at all. Line dancing for morning exercises did not improve my mood. I don't know what it is, I just cannot bring myself to line dance. I think being one child of 10 makes my desire for individuality overly strong. 

Back in camp, clean clothes and pancakes for breakfast cheered me up somewhat. I decided to go on the 1st year hike. Seeing as how we had 9 1st years and it would be the easiest hike, it seemed like the thing to do. We set off with our packed lunches, water bottles, and scriptures (mine on my ipod, because David never did find mine).

It was a lovely hike, more of a nature walk, really. We walked down the road for about half an hour, stopped to eat lunch, play games, and read scriptures then followed the ravine back to camp. The best reason to go on this hike is, that now I qualified for a shower. I waited for most of the girls to finish, which meant that my shower was rather cold, but a little longer than most and quite refreshing. 

As the afternoon wore on, I started to worry about how I would cope with another freezing cold night of no sleep. I think I forgot to mention that in the morning several of the girls thought that the hand-washing water spigot was broken. When they asked one of the men in camp to fix it, he quickly realized that the actual problem was the water was frozen. It was COLD!!!

I managed to get a hold of 3 hand warmers and a tip to slide them between 2 pairs of socks, plus an extra sleeping bag that I unzipped and tried to share with Megan. In my sleep addled brain I managed to steal the whole thing apparently. I put on an extra long sleeve shirt and wore my fleece headband to bed. I slept like a BABY, the ones that sleep all night long and are really warm. It was beautiful and I felt eternally grateful to all who had participated in assisting me toward that goal.

The day before we had found out that some of our newbies were also cold during the night. One of the actual camp leaders went to find out what the problem was. One of the girls hadn't actually gotten into her sleeping bag and one had forgotten the ever-so-important sleeping mat that had been strongly suggested to bring. She tried to rearrange the girls so that they could sleep better and perhaps later than the 5am they had woken up the first morning.

She must have succeeded somewhat, because when I got up about 6:15, they were still asleep. I crawled back into my bag and slept for another hour. 

This day I had volunteered to drive some of the older girls out to their hike site. I figured this way I could get to a store to purchase more hand warmers and whatever else might keep me warm. When I got back after dropping them off, I found one of our girls had gotten sick. We stewed about what to do and decided to have the young lady call and talk to her parents to make a decision. I left the other leaders to deal with this issue as I headed off to town and to pick up my 3rd years.

At the gas station I ended up at, I got more cups for the camp, hand and foot warmers for myself, Emma, and Lauren (I completely forgot about Megan. What a jerk!) They also had a hat with ear flaps, which I snatched up, and some sprite for my little sicky.

By the time I got back to camp, I found that she had already gone home. I gave Lauren and Emma their warmers. Emma was wrapped up in Megan's blanket, she had apparently lost hers (it turned up later in the bottom of her sleeping bag.) She asked Megan if she could borrow her blanket and Megan replied, "Sure, if your mom will give me the extra sleeping bag. AAagghhh! Now I'm either a terrible mom and a mean sister or a popsicle! I took the nice, warm sleeping bag and put it over Emma and her newbie neighbor, returned Megan's blanket and borrowed another extra sleeping bag. Unfortunately, this one was a mummy bag and unzipping it would have done nothing. I laid it sideways across Meg and I and told her to skooch in. She replied, "Hey did you remember to pick up hand warmers in town?" I swallowed  and said, "Yep." I handed her my extra pair of hand warmers (Sorry Megan, but it is true. I had bought myself two sets. I am awful!) 

I settled in, prepared to freeze. Luckily this was the warmest night so far. Thank Heaven! It was very cold, and I woke up a lot, but I did get some sleep and was comforted that the morning would involve taking down camp and heading home for a warm shower and a warm bed.

Aaahhww, girls camp!

Ahh, love.

The next day, David called. He asked about Matt and how we knew each other. I told him that ever since I met Matt in the line to buy student season tickets for the BYU football games, I felt like I had known him forever. He was just one of those people that you’re pretty sure you knew in the pre-existence. We went dancing a lot in UT, but hadn’t dated. I had given him a watch for Christmas, and he had given me a sweater. Not really a big deal. (Sort of) He also sang When in Rome’s “The Promise” to me once in the café when he had hurt my feelings somehow, but I didn’t mention that, right then. During this very phone call, David told me that he thought we shouldn’t see other people anymore. We should be exclusive. Hmm, funny how things change! I didn’t even go out with this guy, but I got an extreme feeling of goose/ganderism going on.

However, when it boiled right down to it, being exclusive with David was exactly what I wanted. So, I agreed. David began this silly little game of telling me that he really “liked” me, and in fact, maybe even “loked” me (a cross between love and like, of course). The “loke” joke went on for what seemed like ever. I was pretty well smitten by this time and could quite easily acknowledge to myself that I was head over heels in love with David. There was no way, no how, no siree that I was ever going to admit that to him unless he said it first. I was a 1^st class chicken, maybe even a little bit burnt.

After many conversations about this, one night he broke down and actually said it. Something like, “Monique, I’m pretty sure that I do actually sort of love you.”

My response, “What did you say?”

“I said that I love you.”

Now, suddenly, after months of up and down and back and forth and joy and pain and sunshine and rain (Oh, wait, I got off track there.) Anyway, now it was really awkward to be in this situation of, for the first time ever in my life, telling someone that I was not related to that I loved them.

“Oh, um, (suddenly my throat is very dry and my heart is racing), uh, I think I love you too.”

Mixed up

Just to clarify, we're getting back to the story and things that happened over 20 years ago. 

Now of course would be the perfect time for David to meet a new girl. He called one night and told me that he hoped that I wouldn’t be too upset, but he really thought that we were getting too serious and that we should see other people. Of course, I was not going to act upset in front of him, but I’m pretty sure I cried myself to sleep again that night. I was well aware that “see other people” was code for “I met a girl.” Sure enough, it wasn’t long before David told me that he had a date with a girl named Aisha. Who names their kid Aisha, anyway? What kind of stupid name is Aisha? (Sorry if your name is Aisha. Unless you happen to be about 37 and from Gilbert, AZ. Then, I’m not sorry! Your name is stupid, and so are you.) David then informed me that he didn’t want to hide anything from me and he would be telling me about any other girl he went out with. Was this some bizarre form of torture, or just a way of eliminating future baby girl names?

David and I still went out. Kissing was off again. I was very annoyed.

About 2 weeks later, I got a call from a friend of mine from BYU. His name was Matt. Matt was currently serving a mission in Arkansas. Missionaries aren’t really supposed to call people other than their families on Mother’s Day and Christmas. Matt and I had been very good friends during the short semester that I had stayed at Brigham Young University before I got chased away by the cold. We never dated, but I can’t say it hadn’t crossed my mind. Shockingly, he had shown some interest in dating Mary, but she didn’t return the sentiment. Since I’d left, we had exchanged several letters. He even sent me a very sweet valentine. We had also made “the bet”. You know, the one where if you’re not married by the time I get home from my mission I owe you dinner, if you are married, you owe me and a girl of my choice dinner. I never did buy him dinner. Anyway, Matt must have been feeling lonely, because he called me and we were having a great time, chatting away, breaking mission rules. He told me about tracting and ticks and chiggers, and I laughed and missed him a lot. About 9pm, David called. I answered the other line and told him I was on the phone, but I would call him back when I got off. Ten o’clock, David called back. I asked if he would still be up in an hour and he asked who I was on the phone with. I told him about Matt and that he was on a mission so he was calling long distance and I would call him back if he wanted me to. He said, “Don’t worry about it.” And I went back to my conversation with Matt. About 11, David called to say that he was still up if I was off the phone. I wasn’t. I told him I would call him in the morning. Matt and I hung up about 12 and I went to bed in high spirits after a fun conversation with a good friend.

Happy 20th Anniversary!

I looked at the next section of "the story" to see if I could post that today for our anniversary. I'm just gonna go with, no. So, we'll stick with this adorable picture of the super-hot guy that I married 20 years ago today. It's been an adventurous 20 years. We have some beautiful kids and some crazy memories. I do wish you hadn't shaved your head though. Look how gorgeous that hair is! 

Just a few things I love about you:

1. I love your blue/green eyes.

2. I love how much you love your daughters.

3. I love how much they love you.

4. I love unannounced back rubs.

5. I love that you are dedicated to your job.

6. I love that you will spontaneously break out into dance.

7. I love when you hold my hand.

8. I love your voice.

9. I love that you do the dishes when I make dinner.

10. I love that you like to surprise me.

11. I love that you like to watch sytycd.

12. I love when you flare your nostrils.

13. I love that you love your parents.

14. I love that you wear the blue, flowered tie I bought you.

15. I love that you read my books.

16. I love that you look really good in blue, and red, and green, and gray, and brown and salmon.

17. I love when you get silly.

18. I love that you clean when you are mad.

19. I love that you like my cooking.

20. I love that you love me!

Angry

In July, my parents wanted me to drive up to our cabin in Pinetop and bring some things home for them. I asked if some friends could come along. They were probably a little worried, but by this time, I was 20 years old and so they agreed. Of course, I asked Mary, and I asked David if he wanted to come and bring a friend. His cousin agreed to come along and we all set off. I’m sure that this trip was a mistake from the get-go, although it was all rather innocent. I think I’ve blocked most of it from my memory. I remember playing checkers in the Arizona room (screen porch), and then I remember standing out at the wood pile, chucking wood as hard as I could into the shed (where it wouldn’t get wet in the winter time). I don’t really remember what made me so mad, but I’m pretty sure that David was not behaving how I expected him to. He did come out to the wood pile to see what was wrong, and apologized for whatever he might have done to upset me. The fact that he didn’t know made me even madder, and I just kept right on heaving that wood into the shed. He practically (but not actually) dragged me back inside and spent a while trying to cajole me out of my bad mood.

By the time we got home from that ill-fated trip, I was pretty sure it was time to break up again. This time, I was really angry and didn’t want an insensitive jerk for a boyfriend anyway! I told him so and he spent the next several weeks trying to prove me wrong. He would drive down to visit me at my big Radio Shack job and drive several miles out of his way to get the good mint hot chocolate at AM/PM. (This was pre- Starbucks.) We would hang out and talk. He would offer me back rubs, which who can turn down? He was attentive, sweet, and still gorgeous and eventually we made up and were dating again. Oh yeah, and his eyes were blue when he was playful and green when he was passionate.


ps. The April 29 post photo has been updated to more accurately reflect the subject matter.


pps. Hopefully I'll get a good post on here tomorrow for our, wait for it... 20th anniversary!

Drama!

This post is part of the story of David and I, but it is really about this little boy who is now married and has a little boy of his own, plus one on the way.

My youngest brother, Tyson was about 3 years old at this time. This is only weird if you’re not Mormon. Ty was my little angel. Due to an odd number of girls living at home at the time, and me getting really annoyed with some of my sisters’ sleeping habits (e.g. leaving the light on or sleeping with the radio on. You know who you are!) Ty and I shared a bedroom. Being the tiny little boy that he was, sometimes he would still wake up in the middle of the night and want his Mommy. At first, when he woke up crying, I would take him to my Mom’s bedroom and drop him off. Eventually, it just became way easier to have him crawl into bed with me. He was my little buddy.

One day, my parents had taken several of the kids over to Grandma’s house to go swimming. Mom had gone inside and Dad was outside with the kids. He hollered to the kids that it was time to get out of the pool and get cleaned up. Ty obviously thought that “get cleaned up” meant to wander around with a towel on your head. Meanwhile, Dad was having a conversation with Grandpa and completely missed Ty wandering into the pool. The towel on his head silenced the splash, and down he went. After a couple of minutes, Dad started looking around for Tyson and found him on the bottom of the pool. The paramedics were called and Ty was air-evac-ed to Good Samaritan Hospital in Phoenix. My parents called me at Radio Shack where I was working at my glamorous job. Freaking out, I raced home.

Mom and Dad were rushing to get everything settled so they could head up to Phoenix to be with Tyson. My dad knew that David lived right down the street from the hospital and asked me if I would call him to go over and give Ty a blessing right away. I did and he did. He and his dad went over and gave Ty a blessing and waited for my parents to arrive (we lived about ½ hour away from the hospital, in good traffic). We were all grateful to have a contact so close and available to be of assistance to our little boy.

That night, David came over and picked me up to go out. Ty was still in the hospital, but he was recovering well. We decided to go to Mary’s and watch a movie with her and her boyfriend. At the time, I had no idea what the movie, The Abyss, was about. Well, as these people began to purposely drown themselves with liquid oxygen, I began to sob. Of course, they weren’t dying, but they could have, and so could my little brother. Luckily, I had a shoulder to cry on attached to a very handsome face. I really couldn’t take watching that movie anymore, so we left. Much snuggling followed. Tyson came home the next day with no lasting damage, but a cool story to tell about how he almost drowned when he was 3 years old.

New moon or some serious moonlight

There will be no alternating blog subjects this week. I have had a little on my plate this week. I am also not changing the photo on my last post yet, either. I am also not going to explain the title and photo that are attached to this post. Apparently I'm a little defiant today! Let's just say that there were some overly mushy conversations going on that just sound silly when written down, but were oh, so dreamy at the time.

Aleruaro/Getty Images/SambaPhoto

Around this time, I’m pretty sure that the kissing issue came up again. I really enjoyed kissing David, and he seemed to have a good time as well. Unfortunately, that little talk about not getting serious kept popping up in the back of my head. One night, Mary and I went to a dance in Scottsdale, David asked if we wanted to “swing by” his house in downtown Phoenix afterwards to say hello since he had some reason he couldn’t go that night. Of course, we did go by. David was being silly and referring to himself as Charlie Brown, since he was so “wishy-washy”. I told him that I didn’t think I should kiss someone who was wishy-washy, and so, he kept trying to kiss me. I resisted, turned away, laughed, and was dying inside. I wanted to kiss that boy so badly, but I didn’t love his terms, which seemed to be that as long as I was the one there, he wanted to be with me, but he wasn’t really sure that he might not want to be with a different girl on another night. Not cool!

In June, David went with his family up to their house in Koosharem, UT. He planned to be gone for about three weeks. Ugh, loneliness! He informed me that he would write to me, if I would write to him. I could just address the letters to him Koosharem, UT 84604 and they would get there. I thought this was crazy and couldn’t fathom the small town where this would be sufficient address. He called me a few times and talked about sweet, romantic nothings like how if I walked outside, we would be looking at the same moon. He told me that his family didn’t have a phone at their UT house and he would have to walk down to the store and call from the pay phone (actually true), so we couldn’t talk for very long. He told me he missed me, and asked me on a date for the evening he got back. Of course, our mutual friend called to remind me of my incessant stupidity. He asked what I was doing on Saturday night, and I was so pleased to tell him that David had called from UT to ask me on a date.

Now by this time, I was going on the silly assumption that David knew that if he kissed me, it would mean something to me. Why I didn’t pick up from the Charlie Brown conversation that this had become a game to him, I’ll never know. So, of course we kissed, and I was right back where I started. Head over heels for a guy who really didn’t know what he wanted.

Meanwhile, I’m still spending my days back and forth between school at MCC and work at Radio Shack. By now I had pretty much figured out that I was the “token girl” at Radio Shack. If you don’t believe me, go down there right now. Every single store has one woman who works there. She doesn’t have to know the difference between a diode or a capacitor, but she will not be fired. I’ve never checked it out, but I’m sure there must have been a lawsuit in the past. Since I was pretty much irrelevant at my job, I would spend my time stocking shelves and changing the radio station. Somehow my alternative music tastes seemed to adjust quite well to the moldy oldies and mellow love songs in my current state of mind. “I’d Really Love to See You Tonight” usually played daily and fit my mood, if not my actual feelings. The lyrics, “I won't ask for promises, So you don't have to lie.” felt so very real in my situation. Of course, my heart was screaming out, “Don’t lie, just love me and only me!” Okay, I’m not talking about moving in, at least not until after we’re married, and of course I don’t want to change your life, well, except for the for time and all eternity part, of course. But there is definitely some warm wind and stars and I sure do want to see you tonight.

Happy Birthday to me!

.

The next day, my “friend” called to warn me again about how unwise it was for me to continue seeing David. He taught me a new phrase, “burn me once, shame on you. Burn me twice, shame on me.” I had really never heard it before, but I wasn’t completely sure that it was inaccurate. Of course, it didn’t really change anything about my feelings.

David came home from LV brimming with talk about a girl named Jacque. I hated her already. Until I found out that she was probably about to be engaged to good ol’ Scott. Suddenly, I couldn’t wait to meet this sweet girl (who probably would not be cool with her fiancé bowling every Saturday).  For the next few weeks, David and I saw each other at dances and would often get together for a movie. We had a lot of laughs watching “Joe vs. the Volcano” together and David took to referring to himself as a “flibber-de-jibbit”. This didn’t really do my heart any good, but what is a girl to do?

Meanwhile, my birthday was fast approaching, May 1^st, May Day. I had always LOVED my birthday and looked forward to it with child-like glee. David began telling me stories of how he had always tried to buy people’s love, like, with a Guess jacket for a former girlfriend or ruby earrings for another one. He was so glad to have a relationship with a girl who he felt so comfortable with that he didn’t have to buy her affections. Hmmm!?. How to take that? Was I really that wonderful friend, everybody feels close to, or was he just being cheap because I wasn’t really all that important?

My birthday rolled around and David showed up with a gift, inside I found a mission journal and filler. Let me ‘splain. If you’re not LDS, when a young Mormon decides to go on a church mission, one of the things that they take with them is a “mission journal” to record all of their experiences. Boys generally go on their missions when they are 19 and girls can go after they turn 21 if they choose. (Remember, David getting home from his mission in Alaska?) My friend Mary and I had discussed the possibility and actually attended Mission prep classes on Sunday. I’m sure I told David about this, and this was his response. My mom and one of my aunts both seemed to think that this was a great idea. I was not so sure. It sounded good and positive, but also scary and long. However, back to the present. I was not quite sure how to take being given a missionary journal by the boy that I wanted to spend all of my time with. We actually started to talk seriously about things and he reiterated his feelings of fear about a serious relationship. He shared with me that he could really see us being together for a long time, but he wasn’t ready for that. He was hoping that if I decided to go on a mission, maybe he would be ready to be together by the time I got back. That didn’t really sound logical to me.

Blessing Gowns

A friend of mine on facebook asked a question about blessing gowns the other day. I started to think about the idea of blessing gowns and the ones I have for my daughters. Should they be something formal that they can pass down to their children or more casual that they can actually wear more than once? Does it matter who makes it? A family member? A factory worker in Thailand? My sister-in-law's family has one dress that all of the little girls wear. My thought is how far out does that extend? When your great-grandniece gets blessed, do you send her the dress, or what? What do you think?

So, it was 1994 and I was a big fan of Battenburg lace. I was also a little unsure of myself as a seamstress. Lauren's blessing gown is a pretty simple little shift with lace sleeves and inserts and pin tucks on the bodice. It  was very sweet on her and pretty much swallowed her, even though she weighed almost 10 pounds at birth. I hope she likes it.

Emma was born in 1998 and my tastes had evolved. I wanted a more traditional, long, draping down to the ground type of dress. Forget the fact that she was born in December and it was still pretty cold when she was blessed. So, yes, she was all wrapped up in a blanket. Also, my sewing confidence had grown and so , of course, I messed it up. I kind of extended the pattern, but I didn't think to gradually widen the skirt as it got longer. So, basically, it's like a long (but still pretty) tube. It has lace and puffed inserts and pretty lace at all the edges. I hope she likes it.

Around 1996, I think that I was having second thoughts about Lauren's blessing gown. (Although what good would that do?) Anyway, I made another dress, this one is cream, not white, but still that type of style. It has smocking on the bodice and sleeves, insertion lace and ribbon, and lace trim on scalloped edges. The only problem now is Lauren has 2 dresses and Emma has one. 

What happens in Vegas...

Sorry, I've been so irresponsible in posting this past week. I went with the YM/YW to Youth Conference in Flagstaff. Let's just say, sometimes I'm pretty stupid, and I have a lot of fun doing it. The conference was great and contrary to popular report, I didn't get arrested by the military police. But, I really think it's time to get back to my story, so here goes...

March turned into April and David filled me in on plans that he had to go with his friend Scott to Las Vegas. He would be gone for about a week. I worried about David on his bachelor weekend, but reminded myself that he wasn’t my boyfriend and I didn’t have any claim on him.

I wondered what to do with myself. Since I had been spending so much time with David, all of my other friends had plans. Out of the blue, a mutual friend of David’s and mine, who shall remain nameless, called me. He knew David was out of town and asked if I was going to the dance. I told him that I didn’t really have anyone to go with and didn’t want to go alone. He offered me a ride. I thought it was a little odd since he lived about an hour from me and the dance was half an hour back the other way. After the dance, he’d have to drive me home and then an hour back home himself. It was so nice of him, maybe a little too nice. I tried not to over think it. This guy had a history in my mind of trying a little too hard.

My friend came to pick me up and we drove to Scottsdale to the dance. Dennis was deejaying which he did less often since he’d gotten married. I looked forward to dancing to good music with a lot of my old friends. We had a good time, and then helped Dennis load his equipment up, and we went to get some food. It was pretty late when we got to my house, about 2:30 in the morning. My friend said he wasn’t ready to drive all the way back home yet and asked if he could come in. We sat in the living room, laughing and joking. Somehow with the lateness of the hour and our teasing conversation, we started to talk about how you can tell if you’re a good kisser or not. My friend dared me to kiss him to prove that I could kiss well. My pride was at stake in my tired mind, so I did. He actually kissed pretty well and I hadn’t kissed anyone for a long time. We kissed for a while until I started to realize what I was doing. He told me that I’d proved my point, that I could definitely kiss, and laughed it off. I saw him out and felt that familiar stomach ache return as I headed to bed, this time for an entirely different reason.

I had told David, who I really cared about, that I didn’t kiss boys for no reason. Then, I had done exactly that. I wasn’t overly worried about our mutual friend; after all, the kiss had merely been a dare. What would I tell David? Probably exactly nothing.

The next day, my kissing friend called to ask if I wanted to go dancing again. I certainly didn’t! I felt like a fool in the light of day. I’d been talked into something I didn’t want, and it hadn’t been all that hard to convince me. The kisser called back later and said that he thought we really ought to talk. I figured that was true, so I agreed to meet him. When we were alone, he told me that it really bugged him that I was spending so much time with David. (Remember, this guy was friends with David before he met me.) He told me that David was basically a player, although we didn’t use that word then. He told me that he thought I would be much happier going out with him, then I wouldn’t get hurt. Stomach tied in knots. Not what I wanted. Unable to form coherent thoughts! What was I going to do? Finally, I was able to explain that our kiss the night before really had just been a dare to me. While I thought of him as a good friend, I didn’t have any other feelings for him. David wasn’t really relevant to the discussion. Could we please not tell anyone what had happened? I didn’t even tell Mary!

Remember that game...Telephone? mmm, not really the same, I guess.

Okay, this is gonna get embarrassing, for me, and most definitely for my husband. I need feedback on what you think of the story and just how personal is too personal. No, I don't mean like that. I just mean, well, just tell me what you think.

David called again the next day. Apparently he thought we were the type of friends now that could discuss dates with other people. I did not have the same opinion. He told me about his plans to go out this weekend with this other girl. I tried to get off the phone as quickly as possible. About a week later, I bumped into David at a dance. We danced, he flirted, I was nervous and confused, again. He asked what I was doing the next night, and luckily I already had plans. He pressed on and asked me out for the following Saturday. I was still smitten, yet hurt. I agreed to go out with him. Later, on the phone, he told me that he’d gotten scared of how quickly our relationship had been progressing and thought that going out with someone else would slow us down. While going on several dates with this other girl, he realized how much he would rather be with me. I was skeptical, but flattered.

Saturday night arrived and so did David. He looked wonderful, acted sweet, and took me to a resort that offered gondola rides. What part of snuggling together in a boat on a moonlit night was slowing down? After a lovely, romantic evening, he took me home. At the door, he went in for the goodnight kiss. Oh boy, was this going to be awkward! I gave him a small peck and dashed inside the house. I seemed to end up feeling sick to my stomach more often than not since I met this boy. What was I going to do?

The next day, I got the standard phone call. David was sweet and flirty and I was scared to death. I’d only had to have one conversation similar to this in my life. I finally gritted my teeth and told him that I needed to tell him that if we were not actually in a relationship, I was not comfortable with us making out. (There was a current trend called getting a ncmo, or non-committal make out.) I told him that I had tried that once and it was not for me. He responded that he really wanted us to be friends and that he didn’t want to jeopardize our friendship, but could we still go out together on the weekends?

This plan seemed better to me than the weekly upset stomach and broken heart that I had been experiencing. So I went along with it. We spent almost every weekend together, going to the movies, bowling, dancing, anything to spend time together. But, we were not dating. I did have to explain to my other friends that they still could not beat up David. They told me I was naïve.

Happy Valentine's Day

Okay, this is for Ashley, because she really knows how to talk me into stuff. What kind of world are we coming to? A double blog day! David will think I wasted my whole day. Oh, except I cleaned the bathroom and weeded in the garden and did some laundry too.

He walked me to the front gate of my house and gave me a very sweet peck on the mouth to follow the few minutes we had spent in the car. I fairly floated inside the house and fell into bed, hoping for dreams as sweet as my current reality.

We talked on the phone the next day, and the next, and every day that week. By Wednesday, he had asked me out again for Saturday night. I was in heaven and thought that I couldn’t have written myself a better love story. The timing was perfect. We would have been dating for two whole weeks by the time Valentine’s Day rolled around, just long enough to make things not awkward. Or so I thought.

Valentine’s day was on a Thursday and come Monday, I still hadn’t been asked out. There was a big dance, of course, but I was hoping for something a little more private. Tuesday, still no phone call. This was weird, because before this week, I think we had talked on the phone every day since our first date. I called Mary and wondered aloud what was going on. She was sure that he had just forgotten and would call soon. By Wednesday, I was so confused and upset that I decided I needed to call David and find out where I stood. He wasn’t home. I left a message, but I didn’t get a return call until the next day. When he called, I was relieved, but nervous. I couldn’t imagine what was wrong. David chatted casually like I was his best friend in the world, but no mention of Valentine’s Day. Finally, I broke down and asked him what he was doing that night. He informed me that he was playing basketball that night, but that a girl he met last week would be meeting him there. He asked if I had any suggestions on what he should wear to take her out after the game. WHAT? I was dumbfounded! I couldn’t speak! I quickly made some excuse to get off the phone before the tears started to flow.

After a good cry, I called Mary to tell her all about it. She commiserated, but had to go get ready for her Valentine date, of course. I called Steve and told him all about it too. It seems that several of my male friends had ended up dateless on this Valentine’s Day and were all headed to the dance together. They offered to pick me up and suddenly I was going out with four good-looking guys instead of none. We were all miserable and the boys all offered to beat David up for me. My very tall friend, Greg, suggested that we head over to the basketball game and beat him up right away. Although that sounded tempting, it seemed a little too desperate. I didn’t want to let David know how much I cared.

The five of us, Steve, Greg, Chris, and Eric (who looked like a blond Superman) headed for the dance. Eric was mourning the loss of a girl and was completely content to let me snuggle with him on the couch as we moped. We actually ended up having a great time wallowing in our misery together. At the end of the evening, I returned home and the reality of my lack of relationship with David returned. I cried myself to sleep. 

Gardening?

Should I start this by stating how much I LOVE having fresh salad every day or how much I HATE having dirt under my fingernails. Maybe the actual beginning is to discuss how motivated my mom is. Dang it! Back in January, we started talking about a garden. I probably would have bought a couple of tomato plants to watch die and been done with it, but not my mom. First she talked about how wonderful fresh vegetables are. Then, I'm pretty sure she arranged to have grocery prices go up so that they sounded even better. Next, she got a little frustrated that no one seemed as excited about a garden as her. Then the guilt kicked in and we all said we would help.

Mom and Tom did most of the preparing of the soil, since they know how to use the tiller. We had a big Family Home Evening to plant the seeds. We bought rubber boots to waddle through the mud.

We labeled everything so we wouldn't forget what was where.

We loved that little garden so much that we even put blankets on it when we had that freeze in February.
 

And now we get to eat salad with fresh red  and green lettuce, purple and orange carrots, green onions, peas, radishes, and spinach. Oh, so yummy! And I haven't bought a green vegetable for weeks.

I hope everyone else isn't tired of salad.

btw, next week for dinner co-op I'm doing fish tacos one day and something chicken and rice the other. And salad.

At last!

I love these posts! I've already written most of the story, so all I have to do is copy and paste, and I'm done! Sometimes it also helps if I don't read it so I don't remember just how much personal information I'm posting about myself on the internet.

The next day, Sunday, I thought about this phone call all day. I went to church, but I’m sure I never heard a word. I debated calling that day, or waiting till the next. When it came down to it, there was never a question. I couldn’t wait. I called David that evening. He was busy. Devastation! He took my phone number and I waited. I actually hoped it was just a ploy to have a reason to ask for my number again. About an hour later, he did call back and I was in heaven. He asked me out on a date for that weekend and, of course, I agreed. I could have died happy at that moment. Thursday, David gave Mary and me a ride home from the dance. I had left my car at Mary’s house. I think Steve had picked us up. Sadly, David’s sister had been in a car accident that totaled his cute little blazer, and we rode home in the Hyundai hatchback. At Mary’s, we sat outside on the car. No one wanted the evening to end yet. My dear friend walked by me and whispered in my ear, “You’re right. He is pretty cute.” I thought that it was all over. There was no way I could compete. I drove the rest of the way home, depressed and upset.

However, I was the one with the date for Saturday night. Friday, David called and asked what I was doing that night. Strangely, I hadn’t made plans yet, and although I knew you should never accept a day of date offer, I couldn’t resist. He asked if he could come over to visit at my house. He could have asked just about anything. So, Friday night David came over and met my parents. Did I mention that my dad is 6’3”, not shy, and quite intimidating? After spending some time chatting with my angel mother and gun-toting father, we went for a walk outside. We ended up at the swing set where we sat down to talk. The attraction was definitely headed up a notch. David casually mentioned that we should really count this evening as a date so that there wouldn’t be any issues with not kissing on the first date the next night. After having waited three months for him to ask me out, it probably said nothing for my moral restraint that I was sure there wouldn’t be a problem.

Saturday, David arrived in his black, mock turtleneck tucked into nicely fitting khakis. He looked fabulous and I think I may have had on a similar outfit. We laughed and I grabbed a sweater to throw on over my mock. We were about as silly as anyone could possibly be as we ate our dinner of burgers and fries at Red Robin. (What happened to my no eating restaurant cooked meat, I wonder?) We went to see a movie, Hunt for Red October. (Never go see a romantic comedy on the first date. An action movie is much better. Intense.) We held hands in the theater and of course it was awkward as I left my hand resting on the arm rest and he tried to figure out which way to take hold of it. The drive home was nerve-wracking! How would this end? We had actually talked about kissing the night before! Once we arrived at my house, David started to talk, so we stayed in the car. I fidgeted in my seat, until leaning in and placing his hand on my cheek, he said, “I’m going to kiss you now.” I stopped fidgeting.

Not what I expected.

This post is not going to turn out how I expected.

I walked outside to go take a picture of the garden. I've always hated gardening. From the times when I was little and my dad would tell us to "Go outside and hoe 2 rows before dinner.", to planting my own flowers on the front porch. Anyway, this is where the blog was going to go... but it will have to wait. When I walked outside, Tbone was standing by the fence looking friendly, so I went over to have a chat.

He's such a friendly little bull. He loves it when I pick grass from the field by the garden and bring it too him. He also loves getting his picture taken, obviously. I was headed to the garden anyway, so I figured I'd snap a couple photos and bring him some grass.

I didn't take a picture of the grass (although you can see a nice patch right in front), but next to the onions off to the right, there's a gorgeous patch of grass about a foot long. I figure pulling it and feeding it to the cows serves many purposes. First, it removes the grass from right beside the garden, discouraging it from reseeding right into the garden. Next, it fattens up those future yummy steaks. Also, it helps reseed the cow pasture when they eat the seed heads and then fertilize the field. I proceeded to pick a great big handful to take to Tbone. As I walked back to the cow pasture, I saw that he had gone to join the other cows on the other side of the pasture. I walked up to the fence to dump the grass and...

Here comes Chuck. I wasn't ready for him with my camera, but he came trotting up from clear on the other side of the pasture. This was shocking to me. Chuck had never come over to me at the fence before. Even when I did bring food. I wasn't quite sure if he was charging me or coming for grass, because he was running. He slowed up as he approached and quickly began to enjoy his (Tbone's) special treat.

Then Tbone noticed...

and he came running!

Usually Tbone is the only one that will come over to the fence when I bring grass, so this sudden, unexpected event made me think that I should go get some more grass, especially when I saw that ... Porky was headed over too! This was beyond shocking. Porky actually runs away when anyone comes near. (maybe not Tom, who feeds them everyday. I don't know.) 

Tbone and Chuck were graciously enjoying their snack, but Porky was just hovering in the background. I figured he would come eat a little while I was picking some more grass in the garden. Coming back with another armful, Porky saw me and started to shy, but he really wanted that grass too.

He started to back away when I got too close. I started to walk away, still taking pictures.

Maybe we should have named him Chicken, the original white meat.

Even when I walked back to the other side of the road, he was still watching me over the top of the water tub.

 That steer has no appreciation!