Wacky Wednesday

This picture was not Wednesday, it was Thursday.  But just pretend we're at IKEA instead of Lowe's.  It works.

Do you ever have those moments that are so crazy and secretly you're excited because you'll have something to blog about?  Wednesday was that day.

Wednesday morning I decided to take the kids on a walk to drop off things to my neighbors.  We get fresh air, I don't have to buckle car seats and my friends all live really close, so it's a win-win-win.  When we walked out of the garage there were like six police officers in my neighbor's driveway.  I said "good morning" because I didn't want to pretend they weren't there. (for a second I was worried they were there to get me for not making full stops at the stop sign, but then I realized I'm maybe a little paranoid)  They were still there when we got back.  When my neighbor on the other side started texting me (because there is no parking on our street and yet there were two police trucks parked in front of her house) I told her that the cops had just left and there was a no trespassing sign on the garage and window.  After sending that I realized that I maybe didn't clarify whose garage and window.  "Not your house!  The neighbors on my other side!"  I mean, it was only a few seconds, but what a stressful few seconds that would be if you thought it was your house!  So I guess they just got evicted (which I feel really badly about, but also hopeful that someone I can be friends with will move in next door!)

After our walk I decided that IKEA would be a good idea.  I had some birthday money burning a hole in my pocket and you don't have to try on home decor in a dressing room before you buy it.  Plus we can eat there and I don't have to clean up lunch.  Off we went.  Olivia got to go to Småland and Axel and I knocked out the shopping.  Then we ate lunch.  Or Axel and I ate lunch, Olivia licked some ketchup off a meatball. I guess Småland didn't qualify as letting Olivia play with toys because she kept telling me I promised.  So I let the kids play with the display train table.  There was a guy there with his son, probably Axel's age.  I didn't really pay him any attention. . . at first.  But you know how it is when you're watching your kids play and it's nice to make Smål small talk with other adults?  Yeah, this guy would not look at me.  Sometimes it was really obvious he was looking anywhere but me.  That's when I remembered that we used to be neighbors and that we went out on a few dates back in my Provo days.  After about ten minutes he picked up his kid and left.  Do you think he noticed me earlier and was intentionally not looking at me?  Why???  So weird. I really would have said Hi to him if he would have just glanced my way, but it felt awkward to start talking to someone who obviously didn't want to have a conversation.

Looking back, we might have been there a little long at this point.  But I really did want the stuff I had in my basket, so what choice did I have? We got in the longest possible line (it looked deceptively short when I chose it--they always do) and when we were one away from the checkout Olivia had to go to the bathroom. So I ditched the cart and we ran to the potty. When we returned the lines had doubled! But we dutifully headed to the back of the line. A few minutes later a woman approached me and said she and her son would take my spot in line and I could have hers (she was at the front of the line next to us). I almost cried, it was the nicest thing.

So the moral of the story is: Pay your rent (or don't do drugs? who knows), make eye contact with former girlfriends and do nice things for strangers.

Sorry so sloppy and short long.

My wedding wasn't as glamourous as the bachelor wedding, but close

Sean and Catherine got married!!!  I needed a post for today and I was saving this funny story for my next anniversary, but I'm sure I'll come up with something else by then.

I got married the Saturday before Thanksgiving and we did everything in one day.  Which means we drove over one hour to the LA temple, drove back to Lancaster for a bridal photo shoot and the reception and then BACK to LA to catch a flight to Fiji.  Plus we did my reception ourselves so there was a lot of work for my family do to that day.  What happened really wasn't anyone's fault, just an over sight. 

I picked this picture because you can see my whole dress.

After the wedding ceremony, Adam and I went our separate ways to change into our wedding attire (brides don't have to wear a fancy wedding dress in the temple, they CAN, but I chose to wear a plain white dress for the ceremony just to make it easier) before walking out of the temple.  A temple attendant brought me a grocery sack with Adam's few belongings so he didn't have to carry them out with him.  I put them in my bag and we went out.

We took all the family pictures that people take and then my family had to leave so my mom could do some work on the reception.  I wanted some bridal pictures on the temple grounds so my sisters stayed behind with Adam and I and our photographer. 

Adam was ready to go.  He was dressed in a suit and all of his personal affects were in my bag.  But there was no way I was driving an hour home in my huge dress, plus all my stuff was still inside so I went back into the temple to change and gather my things.  Alone.

My mom had left, my sisters weren't old enough to have temple recommends (the pass that allows you to go inside an LDS temple) and my photographer had her recommend but was wearing casual clothes (not suitable to go into the temple) so I was left to get out of my dress by myself and gather all of my things alone.

When I went back to my dressing room locker one of the temple workers came and chewed me out for my phone going off.  "Sister!  We had to dig through your bag and find your cell phone.  It rang THREE times!  And it was a very raucous tone!"  I was stunned.  I was sure that I had remembered to turn off my phone.  The temple is a very reverent place and they require that phones are turned off when inside the temple walls. 

I went into the the main dressing area to change.  In the bridal dressing room there was another bride getting ready to exit the temple.  She was Hispanic and all her relatives were chatting in Spanish and helping her fix her hair and zip her dress.  One of them asked me sweetly if I needed any help, but my pride wouldn't let me say yes and I got out of my dress alone.

This isn't the LA Temple bridal dressing room, but you get the idea.

As if I hadn't been through enough, I guess I tried to exit through the entrance and I got in trouble redirected by the man at the front desk.

The lesson here is: Never yell at someone on their wedding day!!

Also, remind your soon to be husband to TURN OFF HIS PHONE.  Yep, it wasn't my phone going off, it was his.  And who was calling him?  His mom. 

It's no Bachelor wedding, but compare our marriages in ten years and I bet we're looking pretty darn similar. 

Legacy of a name

The photographer positioned my mom really weird.  Anyway, Nancy Louise, Dorothy Mae, Kimberly Mae and Olivia Louise.

When trying to pick Olivia's middle name, I knew I wanted a family name.  First names can be what ever you love, but I think middle names should link you to the past.

I have my grandmother's middle name, Mae.  I wanted to do the same for my kids.  We decided to give Olivia my mom's middle name, Louise.  I thought it was cool that my mom got her middle name from her grandma, Annie Louise, meaning Olivia would be the third woman in the family line to have Louise as a middle name.  (My mom is Nancy Louise)

I liked the significance of the name, but it wasn't always my favorite.  On Thanksgiving after dinner my grandma told me the story of the name, and I totally fell in love with it. 

When my great-great grandma joined the LDS church, her family disowned her.  She then left Denmark and moved to the US to be with other members of the LDS church. 

She found work with an LDS family, helping to care for their children.  They weren't very nice to her, so she left them to work for a Jewish family.  They were much kinder to her.  One of the daughters even taught her how to read in English using their school books. 

Her name was Louise. 

A Black Friday Story

Thanksgiving 2011.  All the girls, minus my sister Kellie who was on an LDS mission.

Are you a black Friday shopper?  I have never been big on it.  I don't like shopping all that much (but I DO, but I don't.  It's complicated) and I love sleeping in (despite being a morning person) and since I just contradicted my two main points I don't have much ground to stand on except to say, it's just not my thing.

But I do love fabric.

So two years ago, Olivia was only 8 months old and we had come home from Thanksgiving at my aunt's house earlier than Adam (Adam cannot leave a party.  He will be the last one there.  It's a good thing he doesn't drink)  In fact Adam didn't come home, he spent the night.  Olivia was a 6am riser in those days and so after feeding her breakfast I thought, let's just swing by JoAnn's, it's soooo close.

I arrived, strapped Olivia into my front pack carrier, and took a number.  As I shopped I paid attention to how fast the numbers were being called and when I was done collecting fabric they were still a long way from my number.  And Olivia was starting to fuss because it was getting to be nap time. 

I knew we weren't going to make it.

It was a long shot, but I thought maybe I could park my cart in a less trafficked area and come back for it.  I parked it towards the back of the store, and decided that if I came back and it was still there, great.  If not, well that was okay too.

Olivia and I went home.  She took a nap, I showered, did my hair, ate, Olivia woke up, I fed her.  We headed back to JoAnn's.

Sure enough, there was my cart, full of my fabric bolts.  They were about ten people away from my number.  They called it, I got my fabric cut and we were on our way.

That is the only way to do Black Friday. 

What is your craziest Black Friday story?

A small family gathering

Five years ago on Halloween this guy asked me out.  Less than four weeks of dating, and my family was coming to visit for Thanksgiving.

"Do you. . . want to, like, come play games with my family on Wednesday?"  I was super nervous to ask him.

"Let me ask my mom what we're doing and I'll let you know"  Which is code for, You're kind of freaking me out.  I need some time to think about this.

So I was cool, it's no big deal.  Think about it.  Take your time.

Cool worked, he came. He met my mom and dad, my siblings and my uncle Doug and his family

On the actual Thanksgiving day he and I exchanged a few facebook messages.  He worked bright and early on Black Friday.  My family used that day to take family pictures. 

I was hoping to find a picture of ALL of us, but I did find this picture of my dad and his siblings.  He is the middle of 7 children.  Four of them are girls.

Top row: Dad, Linda, Janette, Grandpa, Grandma Lois (my grandpa's second wife), Phil.  Bottom row: Renon, Myrna, Doug.

While we were taking pictures, one or more of my aunts told me to invite my boy to pizza dinner that night.  I guess I texted him "Do you want to come over for dinner? My aunts want to meet you."  He interpreted this as a small gathering.  Most of my dad's siblings have four children.  My aunt Myrna has four children AND they're all married with children of their own.  Pretty much ALL of my cousins were there.  It was a HUGE group.

Adam still teases me about this.  But let the record show that he left my side five minutes after we arrived and spent more time talking to my family than he did me. 

All my clothes were in prison for 36 hours

Every post needs a picture, right?  Here is my laundry room.  Full house tour coming soon.  I know you can hardly wait.

So Monday every thing was starting to feel great.  Moving into a new house always starts out like camping, you know?  No heat, no hot water, eating on paper plates because you don't know where that box is, sleeping on the floor because your bed isn't assembled yet.  That was Saturday and Sunday.  By Sunday night our bed was set up and our gas turned on (thank you heat and hot water!).

Back to Monday.  The kids were playing so great in Olivia's room.  We still didn't have TV or internet so the camping feeling remained a little bit, but I was starting to think we'd never need to watch a show again the way these two were playing! (the novelty of new rooms wore off when Axel discovered the stairs.)

One of the things I loved most about this house was the laundry room.  Most other townhouses we looked at had the bifold doors with washer and dryer behind them, but this one had an actual laundry room.  While the kids played I sorted lots of laundry and started a load.  Soon Axel came crawling out to play with a box of trash (because we need to buy trash cans for the kids' rooms).  I put the box on the dryer and because I was somehow worried he would get it up there (huh?) I went to close the door to the laundry room.

It didn't quite close.  The dryer stuck out about 1/2" too far to close the door.  So with Axel in my arms, I used my hip to kind of shove back the dryer.  I probably didn't even move it.  I tried the door.  Still a little tight.  But, eh, what the heck, I bet I can force it closed.  So I did.

About two minutes later I went to open it. . . and nope.  The dryer had been pushed back by the door when I shoved it closed, but it had popped back into it's place once the door was out of the way.  Does that make sense?  The dryer was blocking the door from opening!  Not to mention the load of clothes washing in there, I'm sure the spin cycle vibrations didn't help keep the dryer from wiggling forward a little.

I panicked.  I tried to open it with force, no dice.  I texted Adam right away.  I've learned in marriage if you do something stupid like over draw the checking account or get the dryer stuck in front of the laundry room door, it's best to confess it right away.  Then I texted my friend Rachel in a panic.  She helped me calm down, but I was still certain we were going to have to bust down the door.  My new house!

Well Tuesday night my father-in-law came over and with the use of a crazy little tool (I have no idea what it is supposed to be used for) Adam was able to shove the dryer back just enough for me to open the door.  Then my father-in-law scooted the dryer back as far as possible.  The door clears it now by maybe an 1/8 of an inch.

I keep it open.  Olivia closes it a lot.  Good think my FIL let us keep that little tool. 

The Double Date

Out with friends, secretly dating

When your life consists of work and church, and when you work teaching high school, you pretty much know if you're going to get married you're going to find that person at church.  I think by the time I met the one guy at my school who was single and not a student, I was married and knocked up.  But I digress.

After my very public relationship/breakup with a weird guy, Adam and I decided we would not tell anyone we were dating so that if it did go south the awkwardness would be minimal. 

At that time, my bishop decided we would hold a monthly ward "date night".  He was older and perhaps he thought the best way to end his stint at a bishop would be to get everyone in our singles ward married off.  And who do you think was put in charge of this even????  Me.  Ug.

Going with Adam would have outed our little secret, or at least put suspicion in people's minds.  We decided to go with other people.  Adam helped a seriously socially awkward guy ask me (you don't know socially awkward until you meet this person.  It was tragic really, such a brilliant mind, but couldn't nail a job interview) and he asked a girl that he thought was nice but wasn't really interested in (because DUH, he was interested in me).

That first month I put on a game night.  Bring a treat, play a game, go home with the person who brought you.  Just kidding about that last part.  Nate (my date) and Adam (my secret boyfriend) decided it would be fun to go out to dinner before the games.

And that's how your find yourself on a double date with your boyfriend but not with him. 

How do I say this clearly?  First, I really really love Adam.  I love him more now than I did then.  BUT.  Marriage changes things.  Jealousy dissipates.  He's seen me give birth twice, he stuck around, he's not going anywhere.  New love is exciting and unsure, and there was a girl sitting in the front seat of my boyfriend's car using the seat warmer!  I would feel less jealousy if I were in the same position now, but of course that would be totally inappropriate. 

At the game playing part of the night, I found myself at a table with my ex boyfriend Steve (I think his name is Jake in my love story posts.  Oops, looks like the cat's out of the bag!), the one guy I went out with between dating Steve and dating Adam, Nate (my date) and Adam.  Oh yeah, and all these guys' dates.  Later Steve told me that sitting at that table must have made me feel pretty good about myself.  Honestly, I was just trying not to talk much.

We all brought sweet treats to share, but two guys mixed up our Thanksgiving dinner on Monday with the game night on Friday and brought mashed potatoes, so that was fun.

After the games, a group invited us over watch a movie.  It was late for me (I was such a grandma, even then) and so I claimed I was tired.  I didn't lie. 

Still, when Nate walked me to my door, I went in and sat on my bed. . . I didn't want to put on my pjs juuuuuuust yet.  Not ten minutes later, Adam called.  No I wasn't asleep, yes I did want to see him.

The next month, for date night we made Gingerbread houses.  Adam and I went together.

Out with friends, people were starting to figure it out.

PS, Tiffanie I found a seriously awesome picture of you when searching out these pictures on facebook.  I thought about it for a long time before deciding to leave it off. You are welcome.  :)

Rocky Mountain Hi--igh! Colorado

Almost two years ago we took a little five-month-old on a road trip to Colorado for a family reunion in Breckenridge.  It was so fun, so beautiful there, and wouldn't you know?  We're going again!  We're leaving tomorrow, this time with a 2-year-old and a six-month-old.  And my sister Kellie, who will hopefully help with some of the back seat melt down issues.

On our last trip home from Breckenridge everything went wrong that could possibly go wrong.  I didn't have a blog then (just my interior design blog) so I wrote this on facebook.  Now I'm remembering this bizarre but really fun day. (I added a few notes to help everything make sense)

How do you turn a 7 1/2 hour drive into 14?

1. Get a speeding ticket.
2. Decide to stop and see the delicate arch in Moab. Meet up with Andrew, Martha and Blake [brother, sis-in-law and cousin] and do a short little mile hike to the view point.
3. Accidentally run into your grandma and grandpa at Arches, where they ask you to pick up your stranded cousins in Price UT.
4. Get stuck behind a truck fire on the freeway for 45 minutes. Get out of the car and hang out with your bro and other "neighbors"!
5. Get to Price on fumes (because there is a serious lack of gas stations on the 6!) and pick up Billy and Cait [stranded cousins]. Drop off the rental car [Billy and Cait's rental car] and meet up with Andrew and Martha and Blake at Main Street Grill.
6. Grandpa calls to see if everyone is alright. Then, since he's pulling into Price, he'll join you for dinner, with grandma, Ann and De [more aunts and cousins]. We call this family reunion take 2.
7. Say goodbye again! Take Billy and Cait home to Provo.
8. About 3 miles from the exit to your house, run into some seriously awful construction traffic. At 11:30 PM. Take 45 MORE minutes than usual to get home.
9. Put a crying baby to bed and then hope you get into your own bed before falling asleep!

So glad to be home! What a super fun/awful/exhausting day!!!

*     *     *

I hope none of these things happen to us again, not now that we've added two new babies (Martha and I both had babies this year) but I really look back on that day with fondness.  And it made for a great story!

And now, a few pictures from our stop at the delicate arch and the truck fire.

Thanks to the zoom feature on our camera.  We did not get this close.  Way too hot that day to hike with a baby.

Ever the spitter, Olivia always had a bib on.

This was a huge fire.

Seriously awful pants, but they were so comfy.

The Parable of the Jello Jigglers

Even though I didn't notice it, a lot of my identity formed at a young age.  I've loved sewing since I was 6 or 7, always wanted to be an interior designer and I loved cooking dinner for my family even in elementary school.

One year for Christmas I got my first cookbook and my first set of measuring cups!

A treat I liked making was Jello Jigglers.  It was super concentrated Jello so that it would hold it's shape when cut with cookie cutters and the like. 

One day I asked my mom if I could make jigglers.  She agreed after making me (and my brother too maybe?) promise to clean the kitchen before I began.  I worked hard, cleaned the kitchen so clean that not a crumb could be found.  Then we carefully boiled the water, measured, stirred the entire five minutes until my arm felt it was going to fall off, poured into the molds and waited.  Jigglers take like ten hours to set up.  But our patience paid off and they turned out great! 

A few weeks later, remembering that fun experience, I asked my mom again if I could make them.  She reluctantly agreed, but no promise to clean the kitchen was made.  This was great!  All of the fun, none of the work!  I measured, stirred and poured, and ten hours later I had grainy blobs that tasted okay, but they just weren't as good.  What happened? 

I honestly will never forget that.  By working for something first and earning it I put forth my best efforts and carefully crafted my jigglers.  The second time I took it all for granted and slopped together a mess.  The lesson was clear: Hard work pays off. 

What taught you to be a hard worker?

Happy Halloween! (a story)

Four years and a couple weeks ago there was a boy I liked.  I met him at church and we worked together for a few months, visiting the people who were new to the area.  He was so friendly to everyone.  One night I went to an institute meeting (basically its like Mormon Bible study, I'm guessing.  I've never actually been to a Bible study before. . .) with some friends.  A famous woman in the LDS community was speaking so we got there early to get good seats.  I was wondering if I would see him there.  Five minutes before this lady was about to start speaking the place was so packed.  If he did come, chances are I wouldn't even see him.  But fate played a hand for me that night and even though they showed up just minutes before it began somehow he and his friend got seats right in front of me!  For a moment I had a slight heart attack when I saw him sit next to my gorgeous friend Tiffanie, but soon I realized she wasn't there to sit with him, but with his friend.

After (certainly not during!!) the wonderful lesson by this sweet lady was over he turned around to chat with me a bit.  I asked about his Halloween plans.  He said he had some, but nothing set in stone.  So I invited him to my Halloween party.  He said he might come.  Soon after that we left to go home.  When we got in the car I informed my roommate Elise that we were now having a Halloween party!

Elise invited her boyfriend (now husband) and a few of her friends.  I had one or two of my friends show up as well and we carved pumpkins, ate food and played Nintendo.  By 11pm I was about to call it a night.  He hadn't shown up and probably wasn't going to.  Seriously seconds before I went to bed I got a text.  Was my party still going on??  YES! 

He came over fully dressed in Billy Idol garb.  I was wearing ghost earrings with my non festive everyday attire.  It was a little awkward.  We played wii.  We partied with our three party guests.  At 2am he decided to call it a night.  Right before he walked away, he paused and asked me out for that Saturday.  I said yes!

And that is the story of how my husband was wearing eye liner the first time he ever asked me out. 

The Olymics are coming!

First I need to know: is the word Olympics a proper noun?  Like does it need to be capitalized?  Because if not it looks like I just felt like randomly capitalizing a word in my title.  Because I usually only capitalize the first word.  Oh my goodness, who cares?  Moving on. . .

Do you guys remember the 1996 Olympics?  That was the first and most fun year of Olympics for me.  I was 13 and in 7th grade and obsessed with the gymnastic team (but I really don't know why because I don't especially have an affinity towards
gymnastics. . .) My friends and I would talk about it at school and I would rush home to watch the competitions in the evening.  I thought those girls were just so beautiful.  And we were winning!  The team was doing so well. 

And the best part was how, in the end, even though she had hurt her ankle already, Kerri Strug did a final vault almost perfectly and landed squarely on both feet for a brief moment before raising her injured leg and then falling to her knees.  Even now, looking back, I remember the feeling of awe I had for that girl.  Plus I just thought she was so pretty and I loved her short hair.

Via

After that, the Olympics ended and everyone went back to their normal lives, but I just wished I could be friends with Kerri.  I just knew we would have so much to talk about and we would go shopping at the mall together.  She was just so cool.

Well, Kerri and I never became best friends.  I'm over it Kerri, no hard feelings.  I've never loved the Olympics as much since then, but I hold on to the hope that there will be an amazing story of courage that can make me proud to be an American (which of course I am all the time, but  its always fun to see our national teams do something awesome!)

The story of a very stubborn girl

It was Friday morning, which is Saturday in this house.  Adam was fast asleep after staying up to see the Batman movie.  Olivia was snuggled in my lap and every now and then she would look up and smile at me.  How I love my sweet girl!

And at 8am I decided it was probably time for breakfast.  So I whipped up some oatmeal for my girl and she started whining because she knew she was about to get food and it wasn't coming fast enough.  I got her in her high chair and as I lifted a spoon full towards her mouth she really started screaming. Sometimes she doesn't want what I'm giving her until she gets a taste and so I forced a small amount into her mouth.  No dice.  And then she was in full out bawling mode.  This was loud enough to wake up dad.  So Adam came and tried to feed her.  Sometimes switching up parents will help.  Not this time.  Finally I said, "What do you want?  The spoon?" and I just gave it to her.  And the whole bowl of oatmeal. 

And the crying totally stopped.

And she ate her whole bowl of oatmeal and it only took her an hour!  And I got to sit on the couch and read my book (the couch is like five feet from her high chair, I wasn't in the other room or anything).  Of course I paid for that later when I had to clean her up, but I guess she's going to have to feed her self with a spoon someday. 

My stubborn girl.

I know this one is a little blurry, but I just love her expression! 

Worst. Date. Ever. part 2

(just some advice, if you ever decide to write a "to be continued" post, write the whole thing out and just post part.  That way, if life suddenly gets busy/you have to adjust to a new routine, your readers don't have to wait for three weeks!)

Part One, in case you missed it.

This is not the guy I went out with, but if you need to picture someone, picture this jerk.

So here I am on my date with Kalon a boy whose name I can't remember, that had his friend ask me out.  We just finished watching the BYU Folk Dance Teams perform and they were amazing.  Best thing about the date.  My original plan for that evening was to visit my roommate at work and have some dinner.  I must have told this guy because he suggested we should still do that.  My roommate Becky worked at a Thai restaurant near campus so we drove over. 

They weren't very busy that night so when Becky had a second she sat down to visit.  She later told me I looked like I was having an awful time and she wanted to give me a break!  Awesome roommate.  She asked if he had served an LDS mission, and he had in Finland.  She asked: "Do you still read the Book of Mormon in Finish?"  And I just started laughing!  I thought she was asking him if he still read the Book of Mormon, which is a very personal question.  So I told them what I thought was so funny and he replied, very very serious: "Well, I do.  And I work at the Provo Temple on Thursdays." (If you're not LDS, working at the temple is volunteer service and its a great thing to do, but not something that you really brag about.  Its like bragging about how humble you are. . . )

Becky went back to work and we finished eating.  When it was time to pay, Dude asks Becky if they accept American Express cards, oh wait, except he called it AMex.  "Do you accept AMex?"  They did not.  Dude was clearly disappointed, but offers up another card.  "People ask us all the time if we take American Express, why is that card so special?" Becky asked.  "Well, this is my AMex business card and it has over 10,000 dollars charged to it.  I get a lot of free flyer miles when I use it."  Dude, can you say that a little louder?  I don't think the people across the room could hear you.

So we leave and Dude gets the car door for me and I thank him.  "You would be surprised.  One time I got the car door for a Utah girl and she looked at me and called me a pig!"  Oh, well, are you sure that's the reason why she said it?  I don't think I conveyed just how much this boy did not like girls from Utah.  Aside from all his money and businesses, it was all he talked about. 

We pull up to my house and get out of the car.  "So, Kim, I had fun.  Do you think I could get your number so we could do this again?"  And suddenly I had a revelation.  I could see the future of what would happen if I gave this guy my phone number.  Never answering, I would forever be in fear of the sound of my ring tone.  I would be scared he would show up around every corner.  And so maybe for the first time ever, I did the brave thing to do.  "I don't think so."  I don't know what he said to that, probably because I turned and ran.  I cried a little.  I felt really bad, but good for being honest at the same time. 

Now, everyone dreams of those perfectly scripted moments when you can really tell off someone that has done you wrong.  The following Sunday I had mine.  We were walking home from church on a seriously beautiful day.  I looked good (I think.  At least I felt good)  And we walked right past the boy that asked for nail polish and also asked me out.  For another dude. 

"Do you make a point of asking girls out for other guys often?"  The other guys around him chuckled.
"No. . .how was the date?"
"He was rude, stuck up and self centered."  And I flipped my hair rolled my eyes and walked past him.  Not too much anger, just enough to let him know: Seriously dumb move. 

Worst. Date. Ever.

When I was writing about the bachelorette, I mentioned that Kalon reminded me of a guy I went out with in college.  Julia wanted to know the story, and I decided this story deserves to be its very own post.  I tell it to my classes all the time.  Everybody has the really awful date story that becomes more of a legend than a truth.  This is mine.

One morning my friend Charley took some graduation pictures for me.  (not a critical part of the story, but I needed a reason to put this picture on the blog.  I have a distinct memory of what I wore on that date and I feel like you needed to visualize it with me) Later when I was at home a cute boy in my apartment complex came over and asked to borrow some nail polish.  He explained it was great for marking parts on your engine, it wouldn't wear off as easily as other things.  I told cute boy yes.  He had a friend with him, but I didn't pay any attention to him.  They returned a few minutes later and cute boy said, "We have an extra ticket to see [some BYU folk dance performance].  Do you want to go?"  I said sure, he said be ready by 6.  So I was.  Only it wasn't cute boy that came to my door, it was friend.  I asked about cute boy.  Friend informed me he would not be joining.  I got the impression that this had always been the plan, they just didn't feel the need to tell me. . . first flag.

So Friend and I get into the car.  What are you majoring in?  Family and Consumer Science, I say.  You?  Well, I'm at UVU for a very exclusive pilot program.  It was quite obvious that he didn't want me to think he was not BYU material.  I'm sure he came from a long line of BYU grads and was so ashamed his interested pulled him away from the Lord's University.  Also, he added, I have several small businesses.  He listed about four or five.  I can't remember even one of them!

While we're sitting down he asks, How many kids in your family.  I'm the oldest of six, I say.  Wow!  Thats a huge family!  There's just me and my brother in my family.  We're very close.  As if my family was way too big to be close. 

So Kimberly, what instruments do you play, you know other than the piano?  At this point, he's been talking up stereo types of typical Utah girls and I knew this would fit right it with his idea of the "typical Mormon girl".  So I'm sorry to say, I lied.  Did I tell you I played the piano?  No, I just assumed.  Oh because I don't.  I play the guitar.  He was stunned.  And I was going to tell the truth, that I do play both the piano and guitar, but I play the guitar very badly.  But he was just so smug I though I would be forgiven for this small white lie.

After the show was over he took me to get dinner.  Things were about to get . . . weirder.  To be continued. . .

READ PART 2 HERE

The Nutcracker

I know, I know, Christmas is over.  But this isn't really a Christmas story, it just happened at Christmastime.  And I was telling it to my class, and I wanted to write it.  So I did.

When I was 8 my grandma invited me to stay at her house for a week.  I was really excited.  We planned to go to see The Nutcracker and also she was going to teach me how to knit!

She picked me up at my house, about a hour and a half from her house.  We drove back to Orange County a few days before the show so that we had time to shop for new clothes to wear that night.  I loved my dress.  It was a soft jersey tank with a full skirt attatched, with hot pink and purple flowers.  And the best part of the dress was the jacket that matched the skirt.  To this day, I still love a good bolero jacket.  I also got a hot pink scrunchie for my hair.  This was the end of the 80's.  Scrunchies were HOT. 

But the best part of this outfit, the reason I'm writting this story, was the shoes.  There is a big difference between little girl shoes and grown up shoes, and I was obsessed with grown up shoes.  I wanted high heels so badly.  My grandma didn't buy me high heels.  But she did buy me some cute little black flats with a strap that could be removed.  They looked so mature to me.  So grown up.  Even though they were a little big, and prone to falling off, I wore them with out the strap.  I never felt more beautiful.

Me in my dress and shoes with the straps still on.  Man, my bangs went on for days, didn't they!

And so the night of the show I got dressed in my new dress, my grandma did my hair in a bun (my favorite at the time, go figure) with my hot pink scrunchie, and I put on my shiny black strapless flats.  We drove to the performing arts center and I remember my grandma looking for the signs on the freeway to tells us where to get off.  I asked her if the signs said Nutcracker.  She said they didn't.  They only said the name of the arts center. 

When we were standing in line to enter the theatre I took a step forward and my shoe slipped off.  I turned around to pick it up, but before I could get to it, the very handsome man behind me bent down and picked it up and slipped it back on my foot.  I was very shy back then, I don't remember if I even said thank you.  My grandma told me I was Cinderella.  It was a magical night.