Monopoly, A Fabulous Family, and A Husband Who Fits

Chad and I just spent the last couple of days with my family in Bountiful. We had a lot of fun all together and it was just another reminder of how much I love my family, and how much I love the fact that my husband fits into my family. It would be completely torturous if he did not. It would be miserable for him, and for me, but instead he likes them and they like him and we can all have fun together! He doesn't think it's weird that we are competitive board game players, or that we are sarcastic, he just joins right in! We played two intense Monopoly games two nights in a row (Chad won both times...WHO IS HE? I've never met ANYONE who can roll as many doubles as he can! And every time he picks a chance card he inherits money or something. My husband is a lucky man). We also played other games and laughed a lot. If you have never spent time with my family they are very funny people. These are a few things about them (those who were there this time anyway):

My Daddy- Picture Steve Martin and you have a somewhat visual image of my Dad (complete with white hair and all). Picture his personality and you also have my Dad. My Dad is very funny, sometimes even without trying to be. He is constantly confusing parables, fairytales, and words of wisdom without meaning to. When he tries to pass on the advice that these things carry they come out sounding like "well, beauty's in the eye of the skin" instead of "beauty's only skin deep" and things like that. It is very funny. My Dad can make friends with anyone. If we stand in line at a grocery store, he knows the life story of the stranger in front of us before we check out. He is a hard working, wonderful father, who can always make me laugh. I love him.

My Mom- My mom is probably the most talented woman on the planet. Not only does she completely put Martha Stewart to shame when it comes to crafts, sewing, cooking, and all the other things Martha does so well (minus her criminal activity of course) but she also is so intelligent it makes me sick. My mom is going back to school right now and getting her nursing degree- and she gets straight A's WHILE doing all the other things I just listed. She is an amazing mother. In high school she single handedly fixed every formal I wore to a school dance to make it modest. (But they always looked FABULOUS- I didn't just have to buy an ugly jacket and make it work. She would add beading and silk embroidery so that everything matched and looked great. Even when I didn't act as appreciative as I should have). My mom watched every play I ever performed in and she was at every Junior Miss performance. When I was over-involved and over-stressed my mom was always right there with me. Most importantly my mom taught me the value of chocolate and of literature. All the bedtime stories and book discussions we have shared through my life is probably what guided me to the career decision I have made now. I love her very much.

My Brothers- Even though we fought while growing up (to the point that I now wonder how we are all possibly still drawing breath) I now realize so much of who they really are, and how much they bring to our family. They are both funny and intelligent, but in remarkably different ways. One the source of constant information, impossible to reason with, protective, conservative, and independent. One the source of constant "PUNK!" skater apparel and music, funny comments, the list goes on and on. Both: the source of worry and aggravation for my parents, lol...they're teenagers.

My Grandma- Quite possibly the world's most stubborn woman. When we play scrabble we have to have a dictionary present the entire time...and Grandma even sees fit to argue with Webster. My Grandma is one of my greatest heroes. She is someone I have always looked up to since I was a little girl. She is an outstanding mother of 5 children, a nurse, and a fabulous grandma. My Grandma has always done things to make me feel special and loved. It think it's really funny because she keeps calling herself "old and decrepit" which is the biggest lie I have ever heard. My Grandma is nothing like other Grandmas. She uses a web cam, talks to us on MSN messenger, and I can call her on the phone and talk to her like an old high school buddy. There is nothing "old" about her. (Other than her love for old movies, which I inherited from her).

My family is pretty much the best thing ever. As my friend Maggie would say "I like them pretty ok." And it is nice to have a husband who joins in so nicely. It is such a wonderful blessing to have them all.

Grades

In my "younger days" I was always a little bit obsessive about grades. This was entirely self-inflicted. My parents wanted me to get good grades of course, but my mom who would try to calm me down every year by telling me that a" 'B' every now and then is ok Katie." To me it just wasn't ok. In Junior High I would put off projects to the last minute but they would always get done- and they would be completed to a brilliant perfection. My mom would try to explain to me that I didn't have to go so overboard, that I could be less stressed and still get an "A" but I was driven. In high school I was devastated by my one A- and am still bitter about it making it impossible to be in the top 10 of my graduating class.

Then came college. It was as if living in the dorms sucked out every ounce of academic motivation I had. At first the charisma stayed. I studied like a mad woman for my first BYU test, but after watching the screen in the testing center inform me I had made a 60 percent study habits went down hill from there. Having fun just became more important. Suddenly a "B" became a miracle grade (How did I POSSIBLY pull that off) and a "C" became a saving grade (HEY! I don't have to retake this!) It hasn't been until the last couple of semesters that my old criteria for determining what is a "bad" and "good" grade has returned.

This last semester is the prime example. I have been anxiously anticipating the posting of my grades since I completed my last final. I check online every 30 minutes or so just to see if they have updated the system. I think I got all A's. That will make this semester my first 4.0 at BYU if I actually pulled it off. I am keeping my fingers crossed. There is one "A" posted for my advanced writing class...four more to go...

"Satan's Five & Ten" Put the Final Piece of Heck into My Weekend...

So I have been looking forward to this weekend all week long. Sadly it didn't turn out quite like I expected...The details:

FRIDAY:
Amidst the overwhelming task of paper writing this week I always had Friday night to look forward to. My Mom and Dad got tickets for Chad and I, plus my sister (in-law) and her husband to go see the Mormon Tabernacle Choir Christmas concert Friday evening. If you have never seen this it is amazing! They always bring in a guest soloist who sings with them, they have dancers, the set is outstanding, and hi- they can sing a bit themselves- it's a great show! Thursday night I completed one research paper, and I took work off on Friday so I could write another one before we left for Salt Lake. We had to be in our seats by 7:00 and the show started at 7:30. We left at 5:30- giving us PLENTY of time to get from Provo to Salt Lake. Don't worry, apparently there was a Jazz game going on at the same time. We got stuck in miserable traffic and didn't make the show (even after parking 6 + blocks away since we could walk faster than traffic was moving and practically running to beg them to let us in). We all tried to be positive (well, mostly everyone else, I was complaining about how disappointed I was) and decided to walk back to the car and park it at the ZCMI center where we had a free parking pass. Then our car would be closer, we could get some hot chocolate at the mall and walk around temple square and meet up with my family after the concert. Almost 40 minutes after getting back in the car we still hadn't reached the ZCMI center. Out of pure frustration we decided to skip the lights and freezing cold weather and jet back to Provo. It was RIDICULOUS! A perfect evening wasted...sigh...Ok, so I figured Saturday has got to be better!

SATURDAY:
This morning proved me wrong. I decided to go and get our Sam's Club Card. Chad's Dad signed us onto their membership (so nice of him), but I had to go get my picture taken and all that jazz. We are out of some of the essentials around our house so I thought I could pick up a bag of frozen chicken and such. I had to go by myself because Chad has his calculus final on Monday and he was studying. First of all I have no clean clothes so I had to wear this pair of pants that have been too big for me for over a year now. That already put me in a not so pleasant mood. "Oh well," I thought, "The chicken's worth it, I'll wear a belt." I guess I should preface this by saying I hate going into Wal-Mart stores. I will do it because it has to be done, but all of the people just make me so angry! It's like people go into those stores and instantly become these creatures who have no consideration for others. They just stop their carts in the middle of aisles and block the path so you can't get by, or they come down the aisle going the WRONG WAY and block up everything that way. Their stores always feel dirty, and people are rude. I think the fact that my mom and brother were almost killed at a Wal-Mart in a Harry Potter book scuffle is enough proof of how horrible they are, lol. Chad and I lovingly refer to Wal-Mart as "Satan's Five-and-Ten" after seeing a funny skit about it on the Daily Show. Anyway, enough about my vendetta against the global monstrosity that is destroying America. The point is I went to Sam's club, trying to be cheerful, with a belt holding up my pants. The car ride there should have warned me I was in for trouble. It was bright outside so I decided to wear my sunglasses- but the screw popped out so I decided to pull down the visor and make due- but the visor wouldn't pull down. After arriving at Sam's with sun spots dancing in my glazed eyes I received my card without a single problem (the woman helping me was competent- I was thrilled!) I proceeded to fill a cart with some basic items we needed: the chicken, a box of cheezits, some bread...all the while having to fight through crowds of people, little children running from their parents, and old ladies stopping in the middle of aisles to examine crockpots on display. After finally reaching the checkout I decided I'd buy Chad and myself some hotdogs from the food stand for lunch after I paid. The checker rang up my items, told me my total, I scanned my card and told him I needed him to run it through as credit (the bank finally sent me my debit card but they haven't mailed me the pin number yet) and he said "I can run it as debit but not credit...we only take DISCOVER, not VISA." It was the last straw. I had endured the missed concert, the large pants with missing buttons, even the blinding sun, but the realization that I would now be leaving Sam's club empty handed was too much. Me- "Are you kidding me?" Checker- "No" Me- I only have 6 dollars in cash... Checker- "I'm sorry" Me- (trying not to cry) "It's not your fault...Sorry, I guess you'll just have to cancel it." I thought VISA was "everywhere you want to be!" I mean WHO DOESN'T TAKE VISA and takes DISCOVER? That is the most RIDICULOUS thing I have ever heard. When I got home I flopped down on the couch and cried to Chad. "All I wanted was a hotdog, my pants don't fit, and the sun was in my eyes"- It's a good thing I have a husband who loves me even though I cry about stupid things like that.

I'm hoping for a better Sunday...

Over-stressed and ANNOYED

Don't you think it makes sense to not work in a computer lab that's supposed to be quiet if you're going to be TALKING to the person next to you the entire time. SOME PEOPLE ARE SO RUDE!

Let the Anxiety Begin

Last night it hit me after staring at a computer screen for over an hour and only accomplishing the completion of a paragraph...I can't do this. There are not enough hours between now and next Friday to write the 4 papers due/catch up on my reading/read for my classes now. According to Chad this is completely possible, I just need to keep typing. The problem is I don't know what to type. Here is what has to be done by the end of next week:

Monday- Completed (12 page) draft of final research paper

Wednesday- Shakespeare character analysis paper due, along with 2 more Shakespeare
critiques of performances I have to watch between now and Wednesday.

Thursday- 6-8 page research paper due in my modern American lit class (this is a lot more complicated than it sounds, it has to be based on PRIMARY research- not just throwing in random quotes from books)

Friday- research paper due in my British lit class

Then, at some point read 2 novels I never read, read a zillion pages for British lit I never read, read Henry V and As You Like It, and if I manage to finish the week I can then use Saturday to start studying for finals...BUT the wonderful thing is, whether I finish the week with any amount of sanity remaining or not, it will STILL be done. AND, after next week I WILL HAVE 3 WEEKS OF NO SCHOOL! Bless my little heart, I can not wait!

Maybe it Was Loyalty to Something...

So, you may recall my previous post

http://trivialsmorgasbord.blogspot.com/2005/11/loyalty-to-what.html

on my decision to leave my hair stylist. It was a decision that took a lot of courage on my part because I am quite attached to her. Well folks, I am having a hard time sticking to this one. First of all, my hair turned out EXACTLY how I wanted it when she cut it this time. I absolutely love it... As if that doesn't make it hard enough I got a THANK YOU CARD from her in the mail last night. She was thanking me for being such a wonderful client and gave me a card for 20 percent off my next visit. If that's not torture, I don't know what is. What do I do? I think it is my blue personality forbidding me to let go.

The Most Wonderful Time of the Year Was NOT Meant to Include School

Can I just say that since returning from North Carolina I am already in vacation mode. I can't focus on school, I just don't care anymore. The last two days I have done about the equivalent of NOTHING academic. On Monday I blew off all of the reading I needed to do so Chad and I could go buy our Christmas tree and decorate it together. (This was pretty much the BEST night ever by the way! We had SOOOOOO much fun!) This may seem horrible, but I don't even feel a smidgen of guilt over this. I think it was completely worth it! Last night I cleaned our apartment and decorated instead of starting one of the 4 papers I have to write by next week...What is wrong with me? Why am I such a terrible student all of a sudden? By the time I get off work all I want to do is curl up on the couch in pajamas, sip at a steaming mug of hot cocoa, listen to Christmas carols, and gaze at our Christmas tree. For the parents reading this, do not fear- I will get back on the ball I promise. But for now I feel justified in wanting to enjoy the most wonderful time of the year, without the interruption of professor's expectations.

O' Christmas Tree

The most gorgeous Christmas tree ever that now graces our apartment! We love him =-)

Slightly Disgruntled

So this morning I woke up with one of the worst headaches I've had in awhile. I don't know if it was just because I woke up to straight pain that made it awful, but it was horrible. I found it nearly impossible to drag myself out of bed to go to my first class. I seriously contemplated skipping- but then I remembered I have to miss this class twice next week while we are in North Carolina and decided I'd better go. I finally managed to coax myself from the warmth of the covers in order to dart to the kitchen. I downed a glass of milk, took a few IB-profen, got semi-ready for the day and Chadwick drove me to school. Now remember, I didn't want to go to this class. It took every ounce of my will power just to get out of bed. Well don't worry, I got there and the professor didn't bother to show up! I was SOOOOOOOO mad! I could have slept for an extra hour, or worked on the enormous outline for my research paper that has to be done by tomorrow. At the very least my poor head would have had some extra time to heal. I don't know, it just really irks me that he didn't even bother to send out an e-mail to apologize for not coming. I'm the reason the man has a SALARY for goodness sakes. UGH- and as if I am not jeopardizing my grade in every other class I'm taking, let alone my sanity, by focusing every spare hour on research for a final paper for HIS class. So rude. I was extremely upset by this. Plus, I know he'll have to cram everything he didn't talk about today into Monday and Tuesday's classes, which I'll miss...soooooooooooo frustrating.

Loyalty to What?

I am getting my hair colored and cut on Saturday afternoon. (I don't think you can possibly fathom how joyous I feel while contemplating this simple fact!) I am going to a hair salon in Bountiful on Saturday because we are flying to North Carolina for my sister-in-law's wedding the next day and I want to look presentable for all the photos. My hair has not been "done" since July so it is quite ready for assistance by a professional. There is something about getting your hair done that makes the world seem like a better place. I know it's superficial but it's true. Maybe I'm insane but I can guarantee that once my hair is cut I will feel better and my stress about school will even decrease- going to a salon does miraculous things.

The salon I'm going to is the same salon I have been going to for over a year...As I consider this it raises some questions about my loyalties. I am not "friends" with my stylist. I like her, I think she is a very nice person, and I think she does an excellent job cutting my hair, but I'm sure someone in Provo could do the deed just as decently. Why do I feel compelled to wait until I go to Bountiful to get my haircut? My hair has been driving me insane for the last month...what has stopped me from going to a random place here and having my roots put out of their misery? It's not as if this decision would hurt my stylist's feelings, and I'm sure she wouldn't miss a client who only gets her hair done every 3 to 4 months...Why do I feel so completely loyal to her? I find this very amusing because I don't think I'm the only woman who struggles with this.

It's as if there's an unwritten rule: don't cross the hair-stylist you love. It is the ultimate betrayal with ultimate consequences. Let's face it: a hair style can make you or break you. I've had experiences on both ends of the spectrum. Trying someone "new" can ruin you. Sure hair always grows back but that takes TIME, and until the time passes to fix things you can be left with a miserable mop that destroys your self-esteem.

This will be the last time I see my stylist in Bountiful because it is completely ridiculous to keep getting my hair done there. I can no longer justify the expense, nor the preposterous nature of making excuses to drive for an hour to have a trim. I know this is the right decision, but why do I feel a sense of separation anxiety over this? I'm really not a high maintenance girl, but the thought of going to a stranger to cut my hair in a month scares me! Sometimes I am so ridiculous...Oh well, at least I can admit I have a problem.

The Umbrella Conspiracy

Over the last year I have developed some serious issues with umbrellas. I can't seem to keep one, particularly one that works. The series of unfortunate incidents with umbrellas is so intense that I figure there has to be a greater force dictating my misfortune. Someone/something has decided to ruin my chances of ever having a normal relationship with an umbrella again.

The first umbrella tragedy occurred while living in London last fall. The family I worked for prior to my departure for the fabulous city gave me some very nice gifts to use while on my trip. One of these gifts was a titanium umbrella from R.E.I. This umbrella was not your average $5 find from Wally-World, this thing seemed capable of becoming the most fantastic umbrella I would ever own. It's tag boasted of being able to endure a million-mile-an hour winds (ok, so maybe a slight exaggeration, but you get my drift- it was nice) If someone had not bought it for me I would never have purchased it for myself, it was a pricey little number, but a very thoughtful gift (especially since I was headed for a rainy city). Unfortunately this umbrella proved less strong then my dear friend Stephanie's when we re-enacted a scene from "The Princess Bride" while visiting the castle where it was filmed. My umbrella did not survive the battle, and I was left umbrella-less on a most rainy day.

Soon after I purchased another umbrella to take on a weekend trip to Paris. It was expected to rain a great deal and I wanted to be prepared. I didn't test the umbrella before the trip, why should I? I figured an umbrella that was costing me nearly 30 American dollars ought to do the trick. It should work! It should shelter me from the rain! At the first sight of rain in Paris I pulled out my trusty umbrella, only to discover it didn't work, and it was not going to shelter me from the rain unless I held the latch in place the entire trip (which I was forced to do). Once again, the umbrella had deceived me.

My return to Provo has only re-emphasized my victim status in the umbrella conspiracy. After getting stuck in a down pour on campus I purchased another umbrella and have been carrying it in my backpack every day in order to avoid another catastrophe. This umbrella works, I tested it. Well, during a recent Provo rainy spell I could not find my umbrella ANYWHERE. I looked in my bag, I looked under the bed, I looked in all our drawers, I looked in the closet that hosts every other item in our apartment that can't find a home anywhere else- THE UMBRELLA WAS NO WHERE TO BE FOUND!!! In my moment of crisis the umbrella had abandoned me. I was devastated. I had tried to get the best of the umbrella by carting it everywhere, but the umbrella had still, ultimately, got the best of me. I was practically in tears as I marched to the bus stop in the rain- I had tried so hard, but it was to no avail, the umbrella would have the last laugh.

I decided I must have lost the umbrella somewhere on campus...well, much to my dismay I discovered my umbrella yesterday evening- in the BOTTOM of my backpack. I was horrified and embarrassed. I guess it was there all along...or was it? I still vote I am the victim here. The victim of the umbrella conspiracy.

Did you know an elephant can put out a fire?

Well, apparently it can. I discovered this in the nursery on Sunday where my husband and I spend 2 hours trying to maintain a decent level of peace among the most adorable little hooligans around. The sweetest little blonde girl was incredibly worried that there was a fire in the playhouse (there is a picture of a fireplace on the wall). She was running around announcing to everyone, "THERE'S A FIRE IN THERE!!!!!!!!!" After trying to convince her it was ok for awhile, Chad finally told her, "you'd better put it out" and with the assitance of about 4 other children and a toy elephant's trunk (I don't know if he was meant to be spraying water to assist in this process or just a sacrificial object) they finally managed to control the flames.

Our experiences in the nursery have proven to be quite enlightening. For example, did you know it is perfectly possible for a one year old child to scream at the top of his longs for 2 hours straight, with only a five minute rest the entire time? And even though it looks like he has finally given up, do not let this deceive you- as soon as he catches a glimpse of the door and recognizes this as the portal that can lead his little toddler legs to his mommy and daddy he will start to scream again. Did you also know that little boys must be born knowing how to play the flirting game? I watched this little boy repeatedly push the most adorable little girl over because he knew she would be upset and I would make him give her a hug and tell her sorry. (You should have seen the grin spread over his face with each hug- this kid knows what he's about). Even though none of them are over 3 they are sooooooooo incredibly smart! I love them all so much, they are so adorable. It is so fun watching their little-people-ways and wondering what they will all be like when they grow up. Will Bubba still be a ladies man? Who knows- Will some of them still suffer separation anxiety? We can only hope not- But for now it's a joy to watch them becoming who they eventually will be.

My Increasingly Chaotic Life...

Some of you may have noticed I have not written a blog in awhile...I am sorry, but it has been pretty much impossible to find a few spare moments to provide an update on the craziness that I call my life. 2 nights ago I had a nervous breakdown. It went something like this: Chad came home from school and I proceeded to vent for the next 15 minutes about everything that has been piling up for the last couple of weeks and that isn't going to stop for the remainder of the semester. 1) I have a research paper coming up that I could find NO sources for because everyone and their dog has decided to read up on Victorian Britain and check out every available book on Victorian marriage, sexuality, and gender roles from the BYU library. 2) I feel ugly because my roots are so horrible, and my hair needs trimmed so badly that even when I style it there is no point- there is no style left 3) If I start reading now and don't stop until December (even if I cut out meal times, work, and classes) I will not be caught up by the end of the semester 4) My eyelashes are falling out because I ran out of eyemake-up remover and have been putting mascara on eyelashes that have never really become clean after mere face wash and water 5) None of my jeans fit anymore, after one wear they are falling off my body. The ones that do semi-fit are a dangerous battle of trying to cover the forming holes and dislocated belt-loops. 6) I have no clean clothes, and the ones that are clean are so wrinkled I will have to find some time to iron them before I can actually wear them thanks to the Branbury laundry facilities. 7) I am TIRED, and I am crying because my favorite time of the month is here- which equals an added stress of cramps and a hurting back. 8) My feet SMELL funny because my favorite flip-flops have had to trudge through the rain and following drying have never been the same. 9) Everyone who comes to Meredith's bridal shower is going to think I am the worst person ever, because I didn't send her invitations out early enough, and our house won't be clean, and AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH the list went on and on while Chad held me while I cried and complained (laughing through most of my vivid, overly dramatized descriptions of how miserable life is).

In the end though things got a little better. Laughter is the best medicine so I already felt a little better, plus Chad took me to UVSC where every book my little heart needed on Victorian England was still present, solving problem 1. We also swung by the mall so I could pickup eyemake-up remover, in hopes of future eyelash-loss prevention, and I am going to get my hair done before Meredith's wedding which is only a couple of weeks away. The clothes are still dirty, but hey- I wore a skirt today and lived, and by tomorrow evening every guest at Meredith's bridal shower will be dazzled with our apartment's "spic-and-span-ness" if it kills me. So there you go, despite all the chaos I am smiling. By some miracle I am going to make it through the next couple of weeks, and it better be with A's after all my professors are causing me to suffer. If not, I guess I will just drown my sorrows in some of Meredith's wedding cake, grin, and bare it.

Attachments to People I Don't Even Really Know...

Today my boss told Karen and I some very sad news. At first it didn't seem all that sad until we realized who he was talking about...

We have a lot of older customers who frequent Mail Services. This is probably due to several things. The number one reason is probably because most of them are so feeble they couldn't manage to stand in line at a regular post office. (There is one old man who comes in that I can never figure out how he walks he is so hunched over.) Another reason is we are a lot nicer than government employees (hi, have you ever BEEN to a normal post office- maybe it's just my bad luck but they are always so MEAN to me! You feel like you've inconvenienced them by providing them business). Another reason older people love us is because they can come by and drop off their packages to the MTC (all for grandchildren I assure you). Anyway, the fact is these elderly men and women are customers that the secretaries see all the time. I used to work at the front desk and even though I didn't know all of their names I got to know them very well. There is the adorable old man who gives out business cards that say "SMILE - you can keep the card, but please, return the smile" (I have dozens of these things) and always repeats the price in Spanish, there is the little old man who can never understand why we don't keep records of every letter we send out because his letter didn't arrive at its destination and he needs to prove he sent it, there is the little old lady that is so blind her daughter puts her finger on the line she has to sign on after we swiper her credit card (but she always insists on signing herself), and along with several others there is my most favorite customer of all. Until today I didn't even know her name but she has always been my favorite out of all the Mail Services regulars.

She is a petite little lady with white poofy hair and little round spectacles. She always calls you "honey" or "dear" when you are helping her, but not in a way that seems funny. It always seems like you've known her forever and it's perfectly normal for her to refer to you with endearing terms. She always talks to you about things she's been doing with her grandkids - like playing "Sorry!" with her grandson who always wins. And she faithfully brings all her grandchildren packages when they're in the MTC (even when she forgets to put the eggs in the cookies, lol she still sends them off). Anyway, this lady is adorable, and even though I really know nothing about her I guess I've managed to form an attachment to her. Today Lane told us her husband passed away. Karen and I were so heart-broken for her because we know she probably feels sad and that makes us sad... I just find it so interesting that without really knowing someone, you can get to know them. You can care about them even if you don't know their name.

Good News Wednesday

I'M AN ENGLISH TEACHING MAJOR!!!! I picked up my acceptance letter today =-) Looks like I'll eventually graduate in something after all!

Family Visitor

Chad's Dad is spending the weekend with all of us here in Provo! I'm really excited because it will be so much fun to spend time with him AND we get to go out to eat TWICE how fabulous is that??? PLUS he has brought us each 3 Bojangles biscuits AND a ton of frozen wedding cake to replenish our diminished supply!!!! I am so happy! This is definitely going to make up for the horrible week I have had. I had several nights this week where I was up until 2 in the morning only to wake up at 5 to finish everything before classes. I will be so happy when this semester is over. I hope Chad is right and that next semester will be better, he keeps telling me that every time I have an emotional breakdown...I'm so glad he listens to me and makes me feel better. I don't know how he is so patient but I sure love him =-)

New Snacks to Crave

I guess when you live with someone a lot of things about them rub off on you. You start to say the same things, have the same mannerisms, and I have recently discovered you can also develop the same snack habits. Before we got married, I used to think Chad snacked on the strangest things. One time he baked an entire cake, cut it into pieces and froze an entire 13 x 9 yellow cake with chocolate frosting...I thought he was completely insane. As I helped him individually wrap each piece in cellophane I thought, "this is going to taste disgusting...why are you doing this?" I voiced that it struck me as a bit odd, but hey it was his snack- he could eat frozen cake if he wanted to. Well, since then I have discovered he was not insane, he was a complete genius. After our wedding there was a TON of cake left. We brought a lot of it back from North Carolina with us (and Joy later brought us more when she came to visit) and froze it. Can I just say that this frozen wedding cake business was the most delectable snack known to man? I would vouch to say that I preferred the frozen variety over the regular. You've got to understand, you may be reading this and wondering what I'm so excited about. The thing is, the cake doesn't get hard! I thought you'd freeze it and it would be this hard, ice structure that you'd have to thaw out to eat. YOU DON'T! You just pop it out of the freezer, unwrap, and enjoy! It's just this delicious combination of cold icing with soft cake...I LOVE IT! We had two kinds- a delectable yellow variety with buttercream icing and COCONUT sprinkled around the edges, and a fabulous chocolate as well. I used to come home from school and savor a piece with a big glass of leche (yes, see some good DID come out of the frozen cake business- it got me to intake some calcium!) Anyhow, I think over the course of a month I probably solely consumed an entire layer of wedding cake. (Disgusting I know, but if it was in your freezer tempting you...you just can't imagine how hard it is to pass up.) Well, we've since run out of wedding cake, but my desire for the treat has been reborn. Over the last couple of days I've had visions of wedding cake dancing in my head. I guess I could make a cake and freeze it, but I just don't' know if it would be the same...I guess it's something to think about. Anyway, it's kind of funny how I now crave Chadwick's favorite snacks. I've also become addicted to the Food Lion cereal he always munches on...craziness.

The Chefs

One of the things I absolutely love about Chad and I is how much we both appreciate good food. This may seem like a funny thing to love...Let me explain a little bit. I guess when I say "good" food I really mean we both like the same kinds of food (with the exception of mushrooms-YUCK- for some reason my husband finds this fungus to be delicious while I find it absolutely disgusting). We both really like ethnic food in particular, and we love to try new things. I think it is the coolest thing because we never have to eat something the other person hates, it's great! When I was living in London I fell completely in love with Indian food! Chad likes it too, so one of our favorite restaurants in Provo is a little Indian food place called the Bombay House. Anyway, this last week we became cooking fiends. We decided to try out our own Indian food skills and try to compete with our favorite restaurant (it's too expensive to eat at now that we are poor and married). Our eating habits are so random because we never do anything in between- We either prepare gourmet meals from scratch, or we have frozen pizza... It's really quite humorous. Anyhow, this last week we pulled out our "Best-Ever Curry Cookbook" and went crazy.

On Wednesday we made quite possibly the most amazing dinner we have ever made (and we make some good dinners folks so that's saying a lot). We made chicken tikka masala. This is one of our favorite things to order at the Bombay House, and folks our rendition of the dish was AMAZING!!! And it looked just like what we order for a lot more money at the restaurant! (It was also a lot more work than when we go out to eat...but hey, you can't ask for perfection, right?) We literally made the entire thing from scratch with spices and everything. I was so completely impressed with our cooking skills (did I mention how much I love that Chad also likes to cook? How fun is that?) Not only was the food AMAZING, but we also got to eat it on our awesome "cool-blue fusion" plates (we got some of the best wedding gifts ever). I must say I felt pretty chic on Wednesday.

On Thursday I busted out the "Favorite Italian Dishes" cookbook and went to town- when Chad came home from work we had chicken parmesan with homemade red sauce, penne pasta, and caesar salad. Are you not sooooooo impressed? 2 actual meals in a row!

Anyway, I love that we have so much fun doing random things like this. Being married is pretty much the best thing ever, I love it! I'm so glad I found a husband that gets as excited as I do when something we made looks like it did at the restaurant, and that he doesn't think it's weird that I am so completely giddy about it. I love Chad, he is the best husband a girl could ask for. And I must say, we make quite the chefs!

Interview Tomorrow

So tomorrow afternoon I have my interview that will complete my major application. (Yes, technically I am a Senior applying for my major. "Isn't that a little late?" Yes, trust me, I know, I feel bad enough about it...you don't need to point it out to me, enough people have already- particularly the older customers at work.) Anyway, the point is for some reason I am incredibly nervous about this. This is completely unlike me! I've always loved every kind of interview imaginable. It's never been something that bothers me, but I have a pit in my stomach over this one. Tomorrow I will be sitting down with someone who has a very intimidating last name and I have no clue what to expect. I guess I'll just keep my fingers crossed and hope everything goes well.

Where's the REAL tragedy nowadays???

So as everyone knows, mainly because I've complained about it intensely lately, I have been doing a ton of reading lately. I'm taking a British Lit class this semester and right now we're in the Romantic period and we've been reading a TON of poetry. (Poetry is good because it's code word for shorter than the novels in my other classes). It's actually a really great class. I love the professor and she makes class discussion really interesting. Anyway, so we've been reading everything from Blake, to Coleridge to Keats to Charlotte Smith and let me tell you something, these people had a reason to wallow in misery and write sonnets, and odes, and make up intense theories about how to bring about the apocalypse. Before every section in the anthology we get to read the poet's biography and it seems like everyone is just miserable: opium addictions, dying in their twenties, husbands who beat them and go to debtor's prison... DANG! So it got me thinking, can you only be a really good writer if you've had this incredibly horrible life? Today in class we were comparing Keats and John Clare and a kid said he just couldn't get into Clare because, "His life just wasn't hard enough for me" we all laughed because it's kind of true...there just isn't as much depth to his stuff, until he went insane and started writing in the asylum...then it gets a little better. I don't know...this blog really has no point. I just feel so sad for all these miserable poets. And does any kind of modern misery actually qualify to be on the same level as these folk's? I know we have hard things to deal with too, but nothing seems to live up to rat infested debtor's prison...I don't know- just a question to send out into the void.

Cold Medicine- A Girl's Best Friend

So on Friday my throat started to feel a little bit sore. By the time I woke up on Saturday I couldn't swallow without pain, I ached all over, and spent the entire day miserable and crabby. On Sunday I was feeling much better by mid-afternoon. My throat didn't hurt at all anymore! I still had a slight cough, but other than that I figured all the sleep I'd had must have put me on the path to recovery...OH NO people, I spoke WAY too soon. Yesterday I started feeling congested, and by last night I was SERIOUSLY congested. I went to bed early because I didn't feel well, but I don't think I slept more than 15 minutes straight. I had to keep waking up coughing or to blow my nose so I could breathe. It is absolutely disgusting to me. You'd think my little nose would run out of stuff to blow, but it just doesn't...gross. Not only that but my head hurt so bad that every little noise was making it worse. When the people who live above us started moving around upstairs it literally hurt my head every time they took a step. I thought I was going to die. I know I am overly dramatic and that I have a low pain tolerance, but seriously people this time I don't think I am exaggerating at all- I am sick!

Anyway, this morning when I told Chad I hadn't been able to sleep all night he suggested I take some nyquill and miss classes so I can get some actual rest. I disputed this idea for awhile, but gave in because one of my classes was shortened today, and the other one the professor won't even be there. I have to write a paper tonight, and there's no way I can get that done without a little sleep. (I love that missing classes makes me feel so guilty I even have to justify it on this blog).

I decided to take his advice. I don't know if Nyquill affects everyone the same way, or if it just does a number on me because I've never consumed alcohol...but it makes me insanely loopy. It definitely did it's job though! I slept from 8:30 to about 1:00 this afternoon and feel soooooooooo much better! The cold's just as horrid as ever, but at least I feel rested. Nyquill wins the best invention ever award in my book today!!! Thank you! I can't wait to try out your sister Day-Quill Chad is going to buying for me. What a happy remedy to such a horrible problem. The End.

Memoirs of a Vending Machine

Today I reached work absolutely famished. We desperately need to go grocery shopping because right now we have no "packable" food in our apartment. Since I'm on campus/at work from morning until 5 if I don't bring any food I am kind of stuck. I've gone a few times without lunch, but discovered that equals the curse of the migraine headache so I've sworn off doing that now. Anyhow, today I got to work and knew I would have to buy a snack to hold me over until dinner time. I hate buying things in vending machines because it's such a complete rip off but I didn't see a way around it this time. I had 88 cents on my signature card so I decided to use it in the vending machine in the press building where I work.

Keep in mind by this time I am very hungry. Everything in the vending machine is making my mouth water with the anticipation of food. After selecting the perfect variety of Doritos (Cooler Ranch) I swiped my card, typed in the number and letter and watched as the coil holding the bag started to slowly unwind. The bag was approaching the edge, I could hardly wait for it to fall to the bottom so I could collect my lunch...but did it fall...NO! I was completely outraged! 60 cents down the drain! 40 more cents would have made that a dollar! That would have paid for a movie at the dollar theatre, or 2 movies if we went on 50 cent Tuesday!!! It could have paid for printing off a paper on campus! I could have bought...I don't know.... SOMETHING with a wasted 60 cents. Anyway, as if being upset over the lost money wasn't enough I didn't have enough money left on my signature card to buy anything else. I was the vending machine victim- completely taken advantage of.

Anyway, when I returned to the office and expressed my dismay to my co-workers, Karen bought me a strawberry lemonade so life was ok again. I started thinking- even though the vending machine keeping my chips was probably the worst thing that could have happened to me in that moment, it probably made someone else's day when they put in 60 cents and got 2 bags for the price of one. It actually makes me feel like a mini hero that I could help someone feel delighted as the result of my misfortune. Let's face it, we've all gotten two things out of a vending machine at some point in our lives. I know I have, and I've never really stopped to think someone else had to feel angry and frustrated in order to make that possible... Wow, a vending machine is a powerful little device. It can ruin your day or make your day, all over a measly bag of chips- isn't life funny?

The Never Ending Reading List and The Remarkable Husband

It has been awhile since I posted a blog. I can enlighten you on why that is by simply telling you every spare moment of my life lately has been spent reading. Apparently I love to read. I also apparently love to write. These are things I told myself when I decided to become an English major. Over the last couple of weeks, however, I have been starting to wonder if I deceived myself into believing these are things I can even tolerate. Actually, that's not true- I still love to read and write, I just don't like to be told what I have to read and write, and how much I have to read and write every single day. Even now I am procrastinating reading Richard II while I write this blog.

Chad has been the best husband ever lately. Not to suggest he hasn't been the best husband ever since the moment we were married, because he definitely has been, but since school started I have been even more in awe of how wonderful he is to me. I hope this doesn't embarrass him if he reads this or someone else reads this and tells him about it, but he is wonderful!

One night I was incredibly stressed and had hundreds of pages of George Eliot to read (I like the lady, but sometimes her stuff just DRAGS). Anyway, as I was reading I was suddenly struck with a horrific thought: I had no clean underwear for the next day... We had put off doing laundry because life has been so busy lately. Anyway, I let out a groan and informed Chadwick of this dilemma. If we were in reverse roles at this moment I don't think I would have been as sweet as he was. It was LATE by this point, and he still went and did ALL of our laundry by himself so I could get everything done AND have clean underwear. This may not seem like a big deal to you, but when you live in an apartment with no washer and dryer like we do this is a REALLY big deal. Doing laundry takes hours when you can't do it in your own apartment (I hate it, it is pretty much the worst thing ever). So that act of kindness pretty much saved me...

THEN a few days later we had no food in the house, it was way past dinner time, I was reading (shocking I know) for a bizillion classes, and Chad offered to make dinner. Again, if we were to trade shoes at that moment I would probably cook, but I would fix something quick because it was late and I was tired. What did Chad fix? Mac and cheese? nope. Ramen? nope, not that either. TRY homemade red sauce with chicken over penne pasta...he didn't even use Ragu- I find this to be the sweetest thing in the world, and completely astonishing.

How did I ever trick this man into marrying me? I have not a clue, but I know I am incredibly lucky. I love him so much, and I love knowing that he loves me too. When we are both finally home at the end of the day, he makes up for all the stress that came before that. Despite George Eliot, Shakespeare, Hemingway, O'Connor, and every English poet imaginable life is good. And that's all I have to say...

New Sister-hood

I grew up with two brothers, making me the only girl. This definitely had its perks: I knew as much about Ninja Turtles, Power Rangers, etc. as any of the boys on the playground, I pretty much had sole control of a bathroom counter for "getting ready" time, and I had my own wardrobe- no fighting over shared clothes (which I hear causes frequent disputes among sisters). Anyway, the point is I did enjoyed growing up with brothers. Bryan and Jared are wonderful and I love them very much. (Sometimes they would do things that forced me to physically hurt them. Despite the fact that they often deserved this treatment, I am very sorry if I caused any permanent damage- and I loved them all along I promise). Even though I was always happy being a sibling to two boys, deep down I always wanted a sister. This was not really much of a secret, in fact I vocalized this desire often. I repeatedly asked for one, and I am pretty sure I prayed for Jared to be a girl when my mom was pregnant.

This yearning for a sister never really went away. In high school and college I have found friends who come pretty darn close to filling this void. They are wonderful, compassionate, loving women who are like family to me...but most of them have "real" sisters of their own. So as much as we joked about being "sisters from another mister" we were always just joking.

When I married Chad one of the most wonderful things in the world came with the deal: HE HAS A SISTER! And here is the clincher: She doesn't HAVE a sister! SOOOOOOOO we both get a sister at last, and it is for real, because we are RELATED! I was completely elated with this notion when Chad and I became engaged, I even joked with Chad that the only reason I was marrying him was for Meredith, but last night it seriously hit me how wonderful it is. I was sitting in our apartment all alone because Chad was working until late, and there was a knock at the door. I figured it would be one of our random neighbors asking to borrow a screwdriver or phonebook again, but it was Meredith! It made my night to have her stop by. Chad had taken her and Adam's engagement pictures during the day so she stopped by to show them to me. We had such a great time together talking and laughing. When she left it hit me that we are really sisters now and how special that is. I really love Meredith like a sister! Anyway, I just thought I would share with everyone how fabulous I think this whole thing is! I have a sister- the end.

The Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Work Day

Warning: This is a vent...this will not be a very positive blog, if you don't want to feel negative, you probably shouldn't read this. (I apologize profusely for this)

Today I thought I was going to lose it at work. Lately I haven't been liking my job very much...this is really quite sad because I work with wonderful people and it's not a horrible job, I can't seem to quite pin point what exactly is wrong with my place of employment. All I know is once I get to work I am almost instantly in a bad mood. I feel horrible because I don't like to feel annoyed and unhappy for 4 hours of my day. I know this is a problem with my attitude and I need to fix it, but I just thought I'd vent for a little bit if you don't mind.

Today I was all alone at the front counter. That's not a huge deal, except today was exceptionally busy. My day consisted of lifting heavy boxes onto scales, answering a phone that persisted in ringing every 5 SECONDS (literally people, I kid you not), helping a woman process over 20 boxes that she decided to bring in at the busiest time of day (so while I helped her tons of other people waited impatiently behind the counter), and in between all of this I kept taking deep breaths and telling myself not to cry. (The crying part is probably a result of a certain time of the month rapidly approaching for me.) The thing is though, before all of this my day had been going pretty well...yes I did wake up a bit late (which means I spent the day in pig-tails) but other than that I'd had 3 great English classes, Chad sent me some adorable text messages that made me feel loved and happy, and I even found out the bookstore had some used copies of the British Lit Anthology I had to buy so I saved 15 dollars! So the question is, how could all of these delightful moments from my day be completely destroyed in 4 hours? *sigh...I do not know. I feel completely helpless in this situation, I can't quit my job unless I find another job that is just as convenient, and I don't even know if I want to quit my job necessarily- I just want to be less sick of it! Anyway, that's all for tonight, just a major complaint- sorry everyone.

One Delicious Piece of the South

My husband is from the South. Because of this he grew up experiencing all kinds of things I have no clue about. (Butter beans, Smith's BBQ, and confederate flags are just a few.) Anyhow, the point is when I went to visit North Carolina for the first time, Chad's family introduced me to Bojangle's. (I would like to point out that just the name is pretty much a red flag that this is not something we exactly have in the North West. ) I tried it for the first time a bit skeptically, but one bite had me sold on their famous chicken 'n biscuits. The flaky biscuit covering a cajun style chicken filet, smothered in the most amazing honey mustard sauce in the world instantly became my best friend. When I left NC I was devastated to leave my new found buddy behind. (This probably was not a bad thing since it's not the most healthy snack out there) I only became more strongly attached to the orange & yellow fast food chain when Chad and I ate there repeatedly (at my request) on our honeymoon. I could not imagine living without a cajun filet biscuit when we returned to Utah.

Joy is visiting Provo this week and was sweet enough to bring us each 2 Bojangles biscuits. Can I just tell you, they may not be straight from Bojangles, but they are divine. I had one for lunch on Monday and I had one today. I would like to sincerely thank my mother-in-law for sacrificing her leg room on the plane in order to fit a cooler between her and the seat in front of her. She did this so I can now savor the most heavenly fast food known to man. Joy, I love you!

P.S. Any of you Northerners who have not had the privelege to snack at Bojangles, please...do yourself the biggest favor you possibly can. Plan a trip to North Carolina and see for yourself!

Good News, Bad News

The Bad:

Well, I attempted to soak my nails in straight acetone yesterday in an effort to force the fake nails to separate themselves from my hands...Unfortunately, this was to no avail. I have come to terms with the fact that I will have to live with these things until they fall off on their own. I did manage to clip them down so they will stop breaking in such painful ways.

The Good:

Anyway, on a more positive note I would like to point out how completely sweet it is that Chad went to Sally's Beauty Supply to attempt to find something that would help me solve this problem. He must really love me to stand at a counter with extra strength nail polish remover and have a woman ask him if he, "has a Sally's preferred card." Poor Chad... Anyway, I love him so much, he does so many things to help take care of me!

Because the nails didn't come off I am going to have to stand by my stance that everyone should avoid the entire procedure. I will say, however, that my friend Maggie informs me regular manicures (minus the acrylic junk) are quite enjoyable. So I guess you could go that route and be much safer should you choose to have your nails done =-)

Last night Chad and I bought our first piece of furniture together. We bought a coffee table that was on sale at Pier One. I love it! It looks so great in our living room!!! And we bought this candle that smells absolutely AMAZING! I kid you not, if you smelled this thing you would be so happy. I tell Chad about every five seconds how much I love the smell of it, it is that good! Plus, as an added bonus it is sitting on a table right as you walk into our apartment, so you are instantly greeted by its pleasant aroma. I love Pier One, it is the greatest store ever! Thanks to a gift card from Dr. Michaels we now own some lovely baskets, a divinely scented candle, and the coolest coffee table ever!

Worth the Pain???

Before Chad and I got married I made a very foolish mistake. My finger nails are a somewhat precious possession to me. I used to bite my fingernails horribly. I guess I was probably 11-ish when a Mary Kay lady came to one of our Merry-Miss activities at church. She was supposed to paint our fingernails. I of course had none, was extremely embarrassed, and vowed then and there to quit biting cold turkey. It is the one habit I can say I have truly kicked completely. Anyway, before our wedding, after much debate and deliberation, I opted to go to a nail salon and have a set of stupid, now frustrating, temporarily beautiful fake nails put onto my fingers. My co-worker Karen warned me that when her sister had this process performed for her wedding she hated it later. I did not listen. She told me, "Katie, your nails are so pretty now, just grow them out and have the real ones done..." Did I listen??? Sadly, no. I am now dealing with the consequences of this decision.

If you have never had a set of fake nails put onto your fingers let me indulge you with some information that may enlighten you a bit. Before this horrific mistake of the acrylic nails my only experiences with nail salons had been positive. (My roommate Briana is a believer in pedicures and I'd been with her twice to have my footsies scrubbed, massaged, and pampered.) When you go to have your nails done you sit (struggling to breathe due to the harsh fumes) at a little table and watch the person across from you destroy your natural nail. I honestly have no clue what stopped me from screaming, "STOP! You are ruining my hands!!!" Of course the woman barely spoke English...that might have had something to do with it...Anyway, the point is they completely file down your natural nail, glue a fake tip to the top and them paste this acrylic goo over your entire nail to lock the tip in place. I'll admit, they looked gorgeous upon completion. It was a little difficult to adjust to every day tasks with them, but it almost seemed worth it. They look quite fantastic in all of our wedding pictures as well. But that's not the point, the point is that their temporary beauty deceives you into thinking all is well, when the real problems arise when your natural nails begin to grow underneath.

I first discovered this shortly after Chad and I moved into our apartment. While trying to force one of our impossible to close kitchen drawers to shut, the tip of my nail snapped off! As I clutched my hand, grimacing in pain, mumbling, "Ouch!" I was ashamed to admit to Chad that this dramatic presentation was all on account of a broken nail. I used to make fun of girls who complained about that! Anyway, life was fine with my fingers for awhile after this. But today, while hurrying into the car to head back to work after lunch, I opened the door too quickly and HALF MY NAIL WAS SUDDENLY MISSING! I have never felt such agony throb through my hand as I did at that moment.

My husband is going to Sally's Beauty Supply for me as I type, to buy some kind of substance I can supposedly soak these babies in so they'll dissolve right off...All I have to say is they better. I don't know how much more of this pain I can take. Not to mention how ugly my once pretty fingers now look.

Anyway, I guess the point of this blog is just to warn everyone these things are nasty. Women of the world: Keep getting pedicures, pack the salons across the country to primp your feet!!! But please, heed my advice and stay away from these acrylic monstrosities!!!

Unexpectedly Excited

Today I picked up the paper as I often do at work. One of the headlines read "Mickelson wins second major title." Half of you reading this are instantly thinking I'm talking about Phil Mickelson winning the 2005 PGA Championship in NJ yesterday. That is what I'm talking about...the other half of you are now thinking, "Katie...golf?" Yes I know, I know...I myself find it odd that I even noticed this headline in the paper, and find it even more strange that I was ecstatic to know he had won...because I honestly was! Those of you who know me well know that I have never been much of a sports person, and that I never grew up watching ESPN. In fact until Chadwick, I would never have even considered watching golf on television. My husband loves golf. In fact, anywhere we go that there is anything resembling the shape/length of a golf club he practices his swing. He watches golf on television. He played golf in high school. He plays golf now. He has a set of golf clubs in a very nice bag in our closet. Anyway, the point is because it's something Chad loves, I watched The Masters (a tradition unlike any other, lol) with him this year. So, I figured I would hate it...but it kind of sucked me in! Don't get me wrong, I'm not planning on becoming an actual golfer anytime soon, but I actually LIKED watching it on TV. It was shocking to me; I never thought that would be something I'd enjoy. Anyhow, getting back to this Mickelson fellow: So, when we watched the Masters this year I wanted Phil Mickelson to win because he has the cutest wife. It had nothing to do with his actual golfing abilities because I didn't really know a lot about him, but listening to him and his wife talk instantly made him my favorite golfer. (I am an emotional person and became slightly emotionally attached to them...I'm such a dork...) Anyway, when Tiger Woods won The Masters I was extremely disgruntled. Right now Chad and I don't have a TV. Normally I would have realized my favorite golfer had won such a prestigious title right away, but because Chad has no way to watch sports center I had no idea. Anyway, I thought I would share my excitement with you even though it is kind of random. I've also included some pictures so you can see just how cute his little family is...you can't help but smile that he's the WINNER! Bless his little heart! I'm so happy =-)

The Way to Redeem a Severely Outdated Couch

This blog is going to express the extreme pleasure, nay the extreme joy that a little invention called the slipcover brings to my heart. Allow me to explain why these large pieces of cloth now covering our couches are so precious to me. It may be helpful if I begin with a description of what our living room furniture looks like without them. Our couches were created at some point during the horrible fashion mistakes of the 1980's...my guess would be during the early 80's. This is easy to pinpoint due to the other glass/brass ensembles we have in our apartment. Apparently our apartment complex has felt no need to replace these well used beauties, so it is our privilege to have them now. Don't get me wrong, I really was sincerely grateful to have furniture at ALL considering half the places we looked at had none. I really was, I'm not even lying. (Not to mention the stories I have heard of my parents early-married years, eating on cardboard boxes with apple crates for chairs...) Anyhow, back to the matter at hand: My dentist Dr. Froese bought us a slipcover as our wedding present. It is khaki and beautifully hides our purple/pink/teal 80's-esque upholstery. I love it! You know what I love even more? The fact that we bought the MATCHING loveseat cover from Target with one of the fabulous gift cards we received for our wedding. Our living room looks fabulous, and we owe it all to the slipcover! Thank you to whoever created this little gem of an invention, I am reaping the benefits now and cannot express enough my gratitude, I love you! (In a purely platonic way.)

The Sad Realization of the World's Dishonesty

I feel slightly cheated. I do not consider myself completely naive...I know the world is not a completely perfect place. I know people lie. I guess I was just under the mistaken impression that people would not lie directly to me. Sadly, I have been proven wrong multiple times lately. I work as a receptionist for BYU Mail Services. From 8 to 5 you can find me chilling at the front counter of this mailing station on campus. Recently my co-worker Karen and I have been shocked, appalled, and (silly as it sounds) have had our feelings hurt by people who have flat out lied to us!

From our work you can send packages to the Missionary Training Center for a small fee. These packages go over the same day, so it's a nice service for family and friends. There are certain things that we can not send. Because there's no guarantee the missionary will actually GET the box the same day we can't send things like pizza, fast food, ice-cream, etc. This isn't because we are mean people, it's because we don't want the missionaries to get FOOD POISONING! There's no fridge or freezer to store these items in before the missionary receives them. They could sit out all day long, or even a matter of days before the missionary would consume the parasite infested matter. Some people don't seem to understand this (despite our explanation). Because of this, we have many psychotic mothers/girlfriends/former roommates/whoever else trying to sneak the forbidden fruit into the MTC quite frequently. Por ejemplo, a couple of days ago a floozy waiting for "her missionary" type came in with her mother. They were sending some "cookies" to an Elder. Karen felt some heat RADIATING from the box. After asking the girl what was inside, she innocently replied, "Oh, just some cookies..." Karen of course, could smell the aroma of pepperoni and specifically ASKED the girl, "Is there any pizza in this? The box is kind of warm. If so, we can not send it, it will be confiscated in the mail room." "Oh no, it's just cookies..." After she was asked again, she said, "Well, there might be a couple of pieces in there, but it's mostly cookies and I told him if it's bad not to eat it." There "might" be a couple of pieces in there??? COME ON WOMAN!!!! YOU ARE A LIAR!!! Try an ENTIRE Brick Oven pizza, not a single cookie, and a note that says, "ha ha ha because of me you broke the rules." Now I ask you, is this absolute disregard for honestly necessary? I think not. We were outraged! We were FURIOUS!

...And enjoyed the pizza for lunch =-)

Toilet Fiasco

So after contemplating the idea of posting a blog for many weeks, I finally decided to go for it during a routine boring moment at work. I will now have a way to vent my concerns to the world!!!...or to anyone who is also having a boring moment at work and wants to read this =-)

So this Friday will mark 3 weeks of being married! I can honestly say they have been the best ever. Chad and I have been lucky enough to have tons of family and friends show us love and support. We had two absolutely beyond beautiful receptions and are now enjoying the wonderful gifts we received. I was overwhelmed by how much generosity people have shown us. It has been such a help to us!

Last night my parents came down to Provo. They brought us some last minute wedding gifts that had arrived for us. Right now our apartment floor is completley covered in stuff. I had no clue Chad and I had so many THINGS! Our apartment is small so it's a little overwhelming trying to figure out where everything will go, but I love it! My parents bought us a storage shelf-thingie to go over our toilet in the bathroom. This was quite exciting because we have no linen closet and having some storage in the bathroom will be nice for towels and such. So at 10:00 I tell Chad I want to put this together. We drove to Wal-Mart and bought a tool kit since we did not even own a screwdriver. So by the time we get home it is late, we are tired, but we are still somehow convinced we can put this shelf together. Soon it is midnight...yes, we may have slightly underestimated the complicated nature of a self proclaimed "easy-to-assemble" piece of furniture...Finally the assembly is nearly complete. We go to put the shelf in the bathroom...and...IT DOESN'T FIT! That's right folks, our toilet was too close to the wall to allow the shelf to slide behind it. Before you become too sadened by this disastrous thought, don't worry, my genius of a husband MADE it fit. In fact, I have been told, "It will fit, it will work, and we will like it." But the thing is, I do love it! And not just because we now have a place to put our bath towels. I love it because my adorable husband didn't get mad once while he was putting it together, even when we had to take it apart and stuff one piece behind the plumbing of the toilet to make it fit. I love it because it is ours, and it's in our bathroom, and we're married! Life is so wonderful now, even though I'm ridiculously tired at work because we were up all night putting it together. *Sigh...life is good