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.