Happy Birthday to me!

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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!