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!