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!

Success!

My plan was to always post something different in between these memory posts, but Lauren has been nagging me. I'm not sure that Lauren was my intended audience. Hmm, how many more installments before this becomes uncomfortable? Ours was not always a smooth relationship.

The next time I saw David was all wrong. He came to a Saturday night dance with his cousin. Todd was in town on Winter break from University. Mary, my usual companion, had a date that night and so my friend Steve and I had met at the dance. Steve was a sweet guy. All the guys that Mary and I hung out with (and we only hung out with guys, our other girlfriend, Teresa, had already married) were at the very least, cute. It was fun to flirt innocently with our friends, knowing that we were all looking in other directions for actual relationships. So, I’m there with Steve, and David has a built in companion. Meanwhile, I have been wallowing in jealousy for the boy I’ve never even dated, watching him and his reactions to the other girls that he has met. I was rather pathetic. The evening was disappointing. I was ready to leave. David asked if we were going out to eat as we often did. Steve, who probably fed off my dejectedness, had no desire to go. Dennis the DJ was in the process of getting married and no fun anymore (just kidding Dennis and Alisa). However, I had technically come alone. It might be a little awkward, but how could I give up the opportunity to spend more time with David? Todd was up for food, so we headed off (in separate cars) for JB’s.

Suddenly, the night was looking up! I ordered my usual Pepsi and probably some fries, so that I wouldn’t get too much crap about not eating the traditional 1am dessert. Todd and I got along well and discussed some classes that we’d had in common. David was flirty, but somewhat reserved with his cousin maintaining most of the conversation. After some conversation and with my heart in my throat, I decided I better head out. It was getting late and I had about a 20 minute drive home by myself.

To my utter amazement and making it almost impossible to swallow, David said that he would walk me out to my car. Todd busied himself at the table. We walked out to the little, old Ford farm truck that I was driving. We talked and laughed and joked together. I didn’t want to leave, but wasn’t sure what to expect. David asked if he could call me and the heart that was already stuck in my throat swelled. Unfortunately, neither one of us had a pencil, paper, or the brains to walk back inside JB’s. There was a nail lying in the back of my truck and that crazy boy picked it up and told me that he would carve his number in the bed of the truck and if I would call him the next day, he could write down my number. I think that was the 2 o’clock in the morning talking. I thought my dad would kill me if he noticed something carved into that rusty, scratched up little truck, but I really didn’t care. I got into the truck and drove around the corner. I think I was holding my breath! Once I was down the street where I knew I couldn’t be seen, I literally screamed out loud. I was on cloud nine. I couldn’t imagine life being any better, except that I would soon be talking to David on the phone.

I realize that the picture pretty much gives away the ending, but I think that part was gonna be obvious anyway.

November and December dragged by. Normally, my favorite time of the year, I waited for something, anything to happen. David didn’t ask me out, but at least he didn’t ask out my dear friend either. We talked, laughed, flirted, and danced on Thursdays and Fridays. He bowled on Saturdays.

Then a devastating development. One night in December, David mentioned that he’d gone out with the daughter of a family friend. She was nice, but not really his type. So now I knew that he did date, just not me. A tiny little crack started in my heart; it felt like it was starting to freeze. At least he wasn’t interested in this other girl, but we were turning into the dreaded “friends”. Then, the bomb dropped. He told me, his friend, that his ex-girlfriend had called. She had been dating someone else, a law student, good story so far. However, this law student had started talking about marriage. She felt that it wouldn’t be fair to marry him without resolving her feelings for David. Resolving my foot! He went on to tell me that They would be spending some time together and he might not be around for a while. I had pinned my hopes on the New Year’s Eve party that we would be attending, or at least I thought we would. He wasn’t sure if he would come or not.

It turned out not. All of our friends went to the party. 1990 was destined to be a banner year! Surrounded by friends, I was devastated. I wanted to go home. What was the point of celebrating when my reason for living was not even there? He was probably out with the girl he had dated for years before we met, before his time in Alaska, a girl that he had history with and who wanted to “resolve her feelings”. I moped, I pouted, I’m sure I was a major downer. Midnight came and I reluctantly cheered along with the crowd. New Year’s kisses surrounded me and loneliness filled me. I left as quickly as possible.

On my own, I contemplated the possibilities. I was falling for this friend of mine and I didn’t want to be the shoulder he chose to cry on if his ex dumped him. I didn’t want to watch him get over her and move on to someone else. I definitely still wanted him for myself, and I had not quite given up hope, despite Saturday bowling, set-ups, and ex-girlfriends, I felt an attraction between us that I didn’t think I had imagined.

today

bear_river cmcflyfish.org

Today is definitely one of those "real life" days that no one ever blogs about because no one really wants to read about someone else's crummy day. Woke up to Lauren telling me she just threw up so she can't go to school, again. (She's missed so much school this year because she's been sick, that it's really affected her grades.) This was after listening to David hack all night (coughing) and I'm sure I woke up every time he got up to go throw up. I know, how can I complain, when I wasn't even the sick one. Came out to get Emma up for school to find out that Mom's sick too! Made Emma scrambled eggs for breakfast, but Dad wanted french toast. Came home, called the school, called the chiro to cancel, called the dr. to take Lauren in and get her on antibiotic in case it's the strep that went around last week.
Took Lauren to the dr. He says it's not strep but puts her on meds anyway for a secondary infection. (Making over $450 spent on medical bills in the month of March. And yes, we have insurance!) Then, he says he wants to see her again tomorrow, so she can't go to school AGAIN! On the way to fill her prescription, she tells me that today was the day she was going to take her French make up test. AAaaghhh! Take her home, go get lunch for Dad, work on Mom's scrapbook. Ignore the piles of both dirty and clean laundry, rethink buying clothes so often. Then, go get Emma for school, more scrapbooking, eat dinner, get ready for mutual. Take Emma to 1st aid night. Be sad that Lauren had to miss it.
Upside, come home to watch idol. Vote online for Casey and Scotty. I like James too, but I had to narrow it down. Really need to go to bed now!

Love part 2

I’m almost certain I started counting the days to the next dance where I thought I might run into this boy? Young man? Love of my life?  I’d learned that he set aside Saturday night for bowling with a friend. Ridiculous! Who bowls on Saturday night? In my opinion, Saturday was for dancing. Of course, so were Thursday, Friday, and Wednesday if possible. College classes were a necessary evil. So, a week until I would see David again. I’m sure I planned my outfit with more care the next week, but a GAP girl with modish tendencies and a passion for Converse really finds herself limited when trying to attract the opposite sex.

I was not disappointed. He was as adorable as I remembered! Those eyes, under those eyebrows! Smitten was an understatement. Also, a very attractive mouth; kissable would be a good description. We discussed a Halloween party coming up that we all intended to attend. My heart fluttered at the idea of seeing him again, knowing the time and place. A friendship began to develop, chatting with our common friends. He was hiding behind the DJ tables, and I wasn’t afraid to join him there to drag him out onto the dance floor. (Those two years in Alaska had been as a missionary and girls were a no-no.) He was nervous after this hiatus. I was safe. However, a safe friend was not who I wanted to be, but if it meant I was the one dancing with him, it was a means to an end.

Thanks to my dad, I had a job at Radio Shack. He required me to get a job. He got me the job. It paid for my entertainment expenses and filled my days. I probably spent more time at Radio Shack daydreaming to the music than selling personal computers, which were still somewhat of a novelty. Between school and the Shack, I thought I was pretty busy, but I was definitely glad that I had money for gas, movies, dancing, and eating out with my friends.

I was going through an interesting stage. I would only eat meat at home (my parents’ house). I decided restaurant meat was gross, and I wouldn’t eat it. Desserts were also off limits. I tended toward the plump, and desserts made that worse. Not eating dessert meant I could sometimes share clothes with my 5’2” best friend. This came up one night after a dance when a bunch of us piled into Paul’s dad’s big old whale of a car and headed over to Denny’s, one of the few places open at one in the morning. I ordered a Pepsi (What in the world made me think that soda was better for me than meat or desserts? But, such is the mind of a 19 yr old.) and Mary ordered a brownie sundae. So did David. I sipped at the pepsi as Mary tried to tempt me with the gooey chocolateyness of her sundae. I really wasn’t tempted at all. One, I don’t really care for chocolate ice cream (which her stirred up concoction had become) and two, I had honestly talked myself into thinking desserts didn’t really taste all that good. David joined in the fray. He couldn’t believe that I wouldn’t want a bite of chocolatey goodness. While I hated to disappoint him, it did at least draw his attention my way. Silly, teenage antics.

The night of the Halloween party arrived and Mary and I dressed up as who knows what. I had one thing on my mind, seeing David. The party was at a house out in the country with a haunted house in the barn. Trying to be subtle, I scanned the crowd. No sign of my mind-altering crush. I tried to look cheerful and enjoy myself, but I really was consumed by the idea of seeing this boy-man. (What is a 22 year old?) I wandered the yard, scanning the mummies, cowboys, and silliness that a bunch of college-age kids engage in o(n the 31^st of October. I felt a tap on my shoulder and turned to look into the deep-set (blue/green?) eyes of the best looking zombie I had ever seen! My heart leapt! He had been asked (because of the great makeup/costume job his sister had done) to join the haunted house crew and had been inside. We talked and laughed and I’m sure he had no idea that my heart was pounding in my throat. He asked Mary and I if we wanted to come see the Blazer that his parents had bought for him to start his new job as a runner (errand boy) for the law firm that his uncle worked for. Of course we headed out to the dirt road where he had parked and I managed, as I had for the past couple of weeks, to sit beside him in the car. We admired and fussed over his new to him vehicle; he was obviously excited by the purchase. The flirting had begun, but I wondered if this sweet, adorable boy was directing this attention toward me, or my ever adorable friend Mary. I went home, elated but nervous with a stomach full of butterflies and a surely a wistful look in my eye.

Love

Although I really wanted to vent about my ridiculous experience with "cell phone insurance", I don't really want that negative post to be what's up on my blog. So, I think I'll post the 1st page of a story I wrote. This may not be the best photo, but the story was inspired by the 2nd guy from the left. 

When I first saw him, I’m sure I thought he was pretty cute, because by the time we were introduced I definitely thought he was hot. I’m sure it sounds trite in this day and age, but we first met at a church dance. I might have made a better impression if my best friend, Mary, hadn’t been sitting on my lap. I knew a lot of his friends, but David had been in Alaska for two years. I vaguely remembered that Dennis the DJ had mentioned this guy that wrecked his little, old Porsche. So, our friend Paul walked up with the new guy that I couldn’t seem to take my eyes off of. I knew right away that he was the one. I mean he was The One! Of course, I had no idea how to let him know that.

My dating history wasn’t all that fantastic. I wouldn’t count any of the “dates” I went on in high school as real, only one other boy that would even come close to being called a “boyfriend” and a few innocent kisses with unrealistic young men. This was my foundation. I would discover much later that his story was as far from mine as possible. I think he dated every girl he ever met. Of course, he was gorgeous; at least in my opinion. He was WAY out of my league. But I didn’t care. I wanted him. I tried to steel myself for the inevitable heartbreak.

So, back to that concrete slab outside Arizona State University and my 19 year-old self. It was a Friday night in October and the evenings were finally cool enough to wear something other than shorts and a t-shirt, but I probably was anyway. I would definitely describe myself as casual, leaning toward what we used to call “mod”. I probably wanted to be a punk, but was too much of a rule follower and smart kid to go all the way. I would definitely shred my black tights, but no spiked dog collar for me! I’d like to say, “I’ll always remember what I wore the night we met.” But I don’t. It was probably a GAP t-shirt and cut-off jeans. Pretty sexy, eh? I don’t even remember what he was wearing. I probably never took my eyes off his face, the deep-set eyes (Were they blue or green?), cheek bones, and yes, of course a dimple! Brown hair brushed the tops of his strong eyebrows. I was definitely smitten.

I’m sure we danced. I was one of the few people there that he knew. I was friends with all of his friends, automatically part of the same group. I don’t know the songs, something 80’s, not country. We seemed to have similar taste in music, Depeche Mode, the Cure. I was always trying to get Dennis (remember, the DJ, one of our common friends) to play more alternative music. Surely people would dance to the Dead Milkmen and the Pixies. Dennis seemed to think otherwise. He never would play Panic, by the Smiths, I just didn’t get it. Maybe it was Howard Jones. I do remember we both loved to dance to Howard Jones.

What I remember most is the dreamy feeling leaving the dance. I recall my nervousness mentioning my sudden crush to Mary on our way home that night. She was much cuter than me, a boy magnet. I won’t even go into other crushes I had who ended up dating Mary, with her fiery red hair, and calling me to discuss the relationship with a “friend”. Pain in the butt! So, I wanted to know if my best friend thought he was as cute as I did, but I definitely didn’t want to draw her attention to my imagined future spouse. She conceded that he was “alright”, but hadn’t really paid much attention to him. Her focus must have been elsewhere that night. I was satisfied.

my terrible experience with cell phone insurance

Last week Lauren dropped her phone in the bucket of soapy water while she was washing the car. Crazy, right? So nothing happens until about Friday when suddenly her phone won't turn on. "No big deal", I think, "We paid for the insurance on this phone." So we grab the receipt and box and toddle off to T-mobile to find out about getting a new phone. I explain what happened to the kid at the T-mobile and he smiles knowingly and pulls up our information on the computer.
"Wait", he says, "you don't have insurance on this phone." Well, I saw something on my account that seemed a little strange the day before so I explained that I had bought the phone for my husband, but he didn't like it, but when Lauren trashed her old one, he just switched the sim cards and took his old standard flip phone back. Of course, I had the original receipt showing that I had purchased the insurance on this phone and had been making the payments all along, about 10 months or $60.
Well, the kid informs me that insurance stays with the phone line, not the phone, which is ridiculous, because how many times do you drop your phone # into the toilet? Never, right? And so, even though I have a receipt for the phone and it says "handset protection and warranty" right on it apparently, I have insurance on David's stupid little flip phone.
I try to make some headway with this kid and he suggests that I talk directly to Assurant, the insurance company. I explain my predicament to them and they tell me the exact same thing. They say they're really sorry, but so many people try to scam them by trading phones when they don't have insurance that they can't do anything about it. (of course this is the exact opposite of what we did)
I explain again that I have the original receipt with the purchase of the phone and the "handset protection warranty" and both phone numbers are on the same account. We are the original owners. The phone hasn't switched owners, just users. However, this makes no difference. I ask to talk to the supervisor to whom I must explain the whole thing again. She comes on the line after the first person says that he's explained the situation to her. I ask if she know what's going on and she says, "Well I understand that you want to replace a phone that you don't have insurance on." I was fuming! I re-explain the whole thing and she basically says, sorry, Is there any thing else we can do for you. No! You can do what I've been paying you for 10 months to do. Oh, and during this conversation, they inform me that there would be a $40 replacement fee for the phone if they did cover it, so maybe I could just find a $40 phone for my kid.
Let's just forget that I bought this touch screen, web-enabled browser phone for my husband.
So I get off the phone with the &@#^ insurance company and the T-mobile kid suggests that I talk to the people at "customer loyalty" since I have been a loyal customer for so long and I'm now threatening to cancel my 3 phones. So I call and have to explain the situation to the first rep and then again to the loyalty department and they offer to take $40 off the price of a replacement phone. So after spending $60 on insurance, I can spend another $105 and get a replacement phone, or I can get a crappy phone for $40.
This begins to seriously tick me off.

Who in the world needs insurance on their phone #? I bought insurance on a phone!

Why does Mardi Gras sound so much more attractive than Fat Tuesday?

Since it was my day for dinner co-op, I decided I needed to do something for this holiday that I don't actually celebrate. I actually kind of think the idea of Lent is cool. Sometimes I've done it, mostly not. but I've been craving seafood lately and this seemed like a good excuse.
So, we started with the idea of Shrimp gumbo... but apparently I can't move the photos from my facebook to here so...
http://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=10150204541607222&set=a.388570467221.212357.775997221&ref=nf

Anyway, we have a few people who don't like seafood (Mom), so I started out with some sausage that Meg had left over and cut up some chicken too, so that those people would have some food. My "research" showed that anything that runs, walks, swims, or flies can go into gumbo as long as you use a roux to set it. The recipe then suggested sauteeing okra "until the slimy strings stop forming". I thought, "hmm, let's just add spinach instead." The recipe called for oysters, shrimp, and crab, but I am cheap and crab is expensive right now, plus I didn't want to shell it and I didn't want the fake stuff. I figured with the chicken and sausage, oysters and shrimp would just about push us over the top on meat, which would be perfect considering the day. Next, I threw in some onions, garlic, celery, and carrots all diced up to sautee with the meat.
Once that cooked down, I put some in the other dish before adding the oysters (canned) and shrimp (tails on) and letting that cook. Next came canned tomatoes, the spinach, a couple bay leaves off the tree, vegeta (special eastern European seasoning that Elise introduced us to) some seasoned salt, salt, pepper, some water and pour the roux in once the other stuff has a chance to heat up. It was kind of a lot of work, but worth it.
I repurposed the leftover spanish rice from the night before into my version of dirty rice to serve it over.
I must admit, by the time I ate it, I could almost imagine I was sitting in the dim gaslight of Papadeaux (which is the closest I've been to New Orleans).
We had some toasted asiago bread and brie to go with.
Okay, I have to admit there was a flaw to my menu. I had already bought the cabbage to make cabbage crunch salad, and of course, that has a bit of an asian flair, but whose to say they don't have asian chefs in N.O. who wouldn't do the same thing. Thanks to Lauren and Mom for stepping in to put the salad together while I kept adding continuous ingredients to the gumbo. (It wouldn't be dinner at our house if someone didn't burn the almonds or the toast.)

My conclusion:
Dinner tasted good, but I'm not sure I have the patience to do that on a regular basis. I seem to have been choosing labor intensive dinners lately (frying tortilla bowls for the taco salad on Monday). It's probably the bounce back from pneumonia February.

I will try to get the pictures on here. I should know better than to use my phone, but I couldn't find my camera.
Then Mom had a watermelon that she balled to share, yum!

I HEART PACKAGES!!!

I know, all caps is really obnoxious, but I really, really love getting packages in the mail. It's amazing to me that I don't shop online more. I remember the first time that I "mail ordered" something. It was my first year of college and I ordered clothes from Au Coton. (If you know what that is, it dates us both, so I'm ok with it.) I was so excited then and I was still just as exited yesterday when this arrived in the mail.

Yay! the package that I ordered from www.PrairieBirdBoutique.etsy.com arrived! 

First, obviously, I ordered this so I know what's in it. (see previous post) Second, I'm addicted to ribbon, so I'm super excited. Finally, another blogger (sorry I forgot who, someone I followed a link from Tip Junkie to) posted about how cute her package was when it arrived. So I see the package on the counter and am amazed that David didn't open it since it's addressed to him (because the paypal account is in his name). When I open the package, I see this...

So cute! Notice the tiny little flower in the middle of the bow. Who wouldn't want to open this package? So, of course, I do...

and I pull out this. All that ribbon on top... I didn't order that. She just put it in to pretty it up, and entice me back. Good job, probably successful. I actually ordered the crinkled dyed seam binding ribbon underneath.

Look at all these gorgeous colors. There are lots more, these are just the ones I couldn't resist. The price ends up being about .35 a yard, fabulous! The variegated was a little more, but so worth it, so pretty. Also inside was this precious post card...

with this nice little note...

Very sweet. Would be great marketing, if I knew what her other etsy shop was?! I'll probably hunt for it.

So, showing all this fun stuff to my Mom and talking about what to do with it, I suddenly remeber that I have some wool balls from Anthro that have been sitting all the shelf since Christmas waiting for me to decide what to do with them. Yarn balls, meet Wrinkled seam binding...

and form a sweet little family for me to wear to church.

So, yay for packages in the mail, yay for pretty ribbon, yay for great presentation plus free stuff, because , of course, looks are everything. Great day!

Etsy

It's hard for me to go on Etsy, because I want to buy everything. The other day I followed a thread from the Tip Junkie, who is great. I ended up here...

And I bought this... 

along with this...

and a couple others as well. I'm sure that I could make these myself, and maybe I will in the future, but these are so pretty and a great idea. I love them and am waiting expectantly for the package to arrive.

An aside, we had breakfast for dinner last night in honor of Nat'l Pancake Day (which I'm pretty sure IHOP just made up). Well, we showed them! We ate pancakes at home. I'm not in love with this plan. I sat at the stove cooking pancakes for what felt like hours. This was even with a griddle, so I could cook 8 at a time. They were yummy though, with whipped cream, strawberries, and blueberries, and a little syrup for the bacon to touch. The kids loved it.

Also, going to the livestock auction with my Bro today to get a couple calves to raise for some home-grown beef. (if you want in on this, let me know. About $50 buys you a share with about 14 lbs of prime beef. You can't beat $3.50 a lb for knowing where your meat comes from.)

Burnt Limpa bread

So, I kind of wish this is what my bread looked like. Mine was a little, um, darker on top. I forgot to take a picture. After a month of not wanting to do anything (see previous post), I decided that I needed to be more productive. My nephew Brecken really wanted Potato and Pea soup for dinner co-op tonight, so I thought homemade bread would go well with it. David's mom is Swedish and she introduced me to a delicious bread called Limpa bread. She gets it at a little bakery near Sugarhouse in SLC. She usually goes once a year and buys about 20 loaves and freezes them. They maybe last the summer. David loves it as a pb&j. I just like it with a thin layer of butter. It is a beautiful dark bread with rye, caraway, and anise.
I've tried to make Limpa bread before with disastrous results. No one would eat it, not even me. So I looked on the web for a recipe with some good reviews. I found a tip that suggested boiling the caraway and anise in liquid for a milder flavor. That sounded good, since the last time the bread tasted like black licorice. I found a recipe for a no-knead artisan loaf that sounded pretty easy and went to the store for yeast, spices, and rye flour. (This is when Lauren called to come home from school sick.)
Well, I started the dough a little bit later than I had planned. It tasted good though, so I was encouraged. Down a kitchen helper, and left with the little one (she's 12) who's afraid of knives and potato peelers, I was still a little slow in the kitchen. I really love potato soup when the onions, celery, and potatoes are sauteed in olive oil first and cooking for 15 takes a few potatoes. So, the bread went in the oven about 5:10, probably not to be ready by the usual 5:30. At 5:45, the top of the bread was still not brown. The oven has been heating a little low lately and the button won't go above 350*. (probably time to fix it, but then we'd have fewer adventures) I decided that a minute or 2 on broil would do the trick. I decide this a lot. I also burn bread a lot. Anyway, the top was just a wee bit darker than it should have been, but it was still yummy with the soup. It wasn't really anything like the bread from that SLC bakery, but still tasty. btw, how do they get dark brown bread? I don't get it.