Real Life Rom/Com Moment That Ultimately Resulted In Nothing

A few months ago, I had a meeting with a talent agency. The meeting was scheduled for 4:00 so I left work early to be there. When I got there they were in the middle of a last minute casting call so we had to reschedule. I was meeting a former roommate of mine in Sandy at 5:45 so I had about an hour to kill.
I decided to stop off at Zupa's on 123rd in Draper, just to kind of sit and wait.
I was sitting there playing on my phone and these two guys walked in. One of them was, well let's just say, jaw dropping! I immediately glance down and notice he's not wearing a ring on that oh so important finger.
Right away the girl/lover of Rom/Com's starts imagining scenarios in which he'd see me sitting there alone playing on my phone, and would come over and talk to me. Or, he and his friend would notice that I was alone and come and say, "Do you mind company?". Or perhaps he'd come and ask for my number. Just so many different possibilities ran through my head as I gazed at him incessantly.
He orders his food and I think, "I'm sure he wouldn't come over, they probably just would assume I'm waiting for someone, plus who just walks up to a stranger anyway? Never-the-less, scenarios played out in my head of him coming over, us striking up conversation and our most certain wedding (were we to actually converse one with another).
He gets his food and he and his friend walk to the other end of the restaurant, which happened to be behind me.
I sat, playing on my phone, thinking, "Maybe when I get up and leave he'll see me and realize I'm there alone and won't want me to leave without at least getting my name." OK seriously, I was thinking all of these things. It was in that moment that I realize I would be an amazing chick-flick writer.
Still I sit. In the corner of my eye I see a little movement and I look up just as HE sits down at my booth. SERIOUSLY! I immediately turn bright red... smile from ear to ear, and say (amid insane laughter going on in my head)with way too much excitement, "HI!" He says, "Is your name Julia?" (the laughter in my head grows as does the deep shade of red on my face) I look at him stunned and say, "Yeah" all the while thinking, "Is this happening? Did THAT guy really just come to my booth? Is this real life?" He says, "My name is (fake name inserted here so as to protect his anonymity since I have so many readers) Jake" A vague recollection comes to mind as I say, "Jake Walters? (last name also fake, but didn't want to use something so over-done like Smith... or Doe)" he smiles and says, "Yeah!"
Then the puzzle comes together. Months prior one of the guys in my group said he wanted to set me up with a co-worker of his, one Jake Walters. He had added me on facebook and I had seen his pictures but he didn't look familiar AT ALL in all the time I stared at him while he was in line I never would have put the puzzle together. I ended up deleting him, just because nothing ever ended up happening.
After he sat down and he told me who he was, he said that when he first walked in he recognized me, but didn't place me until he had sat down and wanted to come introduce himself. I just said, "I'm so glad you did." and we had a brief friendly conversation and he went back to his friend.
I walked out of Zupas astonished that that even just happened, What are the odds? I'm in a place I never am, at a time I never would be there. I just happened to have this meeting that just happened to get over-looked. Clearly this was fate.
Anyway, I never really heard from him again. (This post is titled ... Ultimately resulted in nothing, so you can't be upset that this is how this is ending) I still think of that as one of the craziest things to happen, and a real life Rom/Com moment, in the movie with that scenario it would have just been the beginning of the rest of our lives together, but in real life it was just happenstance.

Christmas Memories

Christmas is entirely different these days than it was when I was a kid. It's sad that I don't go to bed at night with so much excitement that I can't sleep through the night. I'm excited for the days when I have my own little family and my kids are so excited about Christmas they can't sleep. Wondering what Santa is going to bring them.
I was thinking today about what Christmas used to be like.
I remember going to my Grandma and Grandpa Sanders' house on Christmas Eve and getting together with all my cousins. I remember that was the only day I'd be excited to leave Grandma's house because it meant I got to go to bed and wake up and have it be Christmas morning.
I remember, I'm pretty sure every year until my sister got married, sleeping in her room, in her bed on Christmas eve. I remember Nolan talking about how he was going to take a "double shot of nyquil" so he could fall asleep. I remember laying awake in bed wondering when it is no longer "too early". I remember walking into my siblings rooms and saying, "wake up... It's CHRISTMAS". I remember my dad lining all the kids up on the stairs youngest to oldest before he'd let us into the room with all the presents. I remember walking into the living room (or family room depending) and seeing all of "Santa's presents" and the stockings bulging, and only being able to see with whatever light the Christmas tree was giving off.
I remember watching the news Christmas Eve and having my dad talk about how there had been Santa sightings all over the world, and hearing him tell the story of when he saw Santa fly away one year.
I remember Christmas 1997, my dad insisted we open one present first. We opened it and it was a video camera, he wanted it opened first so he could video tape the rest of the morning. I remember him starting the video saying, "It's Christmas morning 1977" and we all laughed at him for some time.
I remember the year Nolan got Girbaud jeans and how excited he was that they weren't "just any jeans".
I remember having the smorgasbord every year. We'd open our presents and have breakfast, then we'd clean the house and around 2 or three both sides of the extended family would come over and we'd spend the day playing games, eating and just being together.
I miss being a kid on Christmas, but it's so fun to hear my siblings talk about how excited their kids get. I'm excited to be at my sister's house Christmas morning when the kids come down to see what Santa brought them. To relive that excitement that I felt as a kid, but watch them live it and make memories of their own. I look forward to the day when it will be my kids that can't sleep.
I'm grateful to have such an amazing family that has made my Christmas memories so wonderful.

Short one

You know how when you're a baby (come on who doesn't remember being a baby) your dad would balance you on his hand, like unto when people balance an umbrella or bat or something to see how long it will stand.
Anyhoo, I remember hearing how my dad used to this with my sister and me. He said whenever he would balance Jennie on his hand she would stand stiff. She'd stand all straight and he could balance her.
Jennie grew up and was a cheerleader in high school and college. I would watch these guys hold her up and she'd stand so solidly on their hands. Obviously something that has been in her since she was a baby.
My dad used to do the same thing with me when I was a baby. I grew up to be a singer.

Nicknames

Thanks to my best friend Bree I have gotten into the habit of giving guys nicknames. It's easier for a lot of reasons. One being maybe I don't want people knowing who I'm talking about. Maybe I know 8 different spencers and don't want to have to explain each time I talk about one, which one I'm talking about. Maybe I don't like the guy and he doesn't deserve me using his name. It's just easier.
So today in my busy-ness I decided to compile a list of the names that I could remember. Here ya go:

Fosters
Red
Kayak
Blue Shirt
Hasslehoff
Big A
The Linguist
The Professor
The Doctor
The Father
The Drool Master
The Comedian
Chester the Molester
O'donnell
Shots
The Creeper
The Gym Guy
The Child
The Snowshoeing guy
Muscle Man
The Captain
The Agressor
Mr Persistan
Kingpin
The Musician
Goober 9000
The Stalker
The Friend


I know there are more, those last three just came to me as I was writing. Nicknames are a great invention, makes talking about dudes so much easier.

Loved This

As much as I hate to admit it... I looked at pinterest today. I have not/ will not (maybe) join, but I found this poem on there that I LOVED, so I'll share it.

The Knots Prayer:
Dear God,
Please untie the knots that are in my mind, my heart and my life.
Remove the have nots, the can nots and the do nots that I have in my mind.
Erase the will nots, may nots, might nots that may find a home in my heart.
Release me from the could nots, would nots and should nots that obstruct my life.
And most of all, Dear God, I ask you to remove from my mind, my heart and my life all of the 'am nots' that I have allowed to hold me back, especially the thought that I am not good enough.
Amen

Short and sweet.

Song Writing Journal

I saw a post on my friends blog today and she was talking about her husband's song that he had just written. How he keeps notebooks all over the place that he jots lines in and what not.
Songwriting is such a personal thing, that's why I talk about it being so therapeutic. I write songs like I'm writing in my journal. A lot of my songs are sad because that is the emotion that I feel can consume you so much, and for me writing my feelings out helps me to let go of them.
Anyway... the thing that made me of this post is in my friend's blog, (hueandhum.com) she took a picture of a part of one of her husband's songs and it just made me think about what my songwriting notebook looks like.
When I write a song, it starts off by me writing down a bunch of different lines that the current situation makes me think of. I write down my feelings in a bunch of different ways to see what lines would best fit the melody we choose. As we start writing the lines they get condensed and snipped and crossed out and by the end of it I have a few pages of paper that just look a mess. I LOVE those pages of paper in my book. I love that notebook I love going back and seeing how we came to the final product, I like going back and seeing all the things I felt before we wrote the song.
About a year ago Jaycie and I were doing an open mic night. I left my notebook on the chair next to me to save a seat. My friend came and grabbed it and sat next to me and started looking through my notebook. My chest immediately tightened and I got really self-conscious. I realized him looking through that notebook was like him reaching the deepest parts of my soul. The things I have written in that book are some of the most personal feelings I have. I finally reached over and took it from him, I couldn't handle it anymore.
I love sharing my songs with people. I love the idea that people can relate. I hope that people can feel the emotion it took to write the song, because they are all based off something real.
Well I hope the seriousness/boringness of this blog doesn't turn anyone away. Sometimes I'm serious ok?
Adieu

Memoirs of a Youngest Child

When I was in 3rd grade Jennie and I would be off-track at the same time. Both of our parents worked as did our cousin Michelle's parents. So when we would be out of school for those weeks we would either go to Michelle's house for the day, or she would come to ours.
Jennie and Michelle were both in 5th grade and I, as previously mentioned, was in 3rd, which meant if I wanted to play with them, I had to do what they said.
Nearly every day we would make lunch and then we would watch The Unsinkable Molly Brown "Belly up... Belly up to the bar boys, better loosen your belt. Only drink when you're all alone or with somebody else." I don't know how we never got sick of that movie, but somehow we didn't.
Every day lunch was a grand event. We would use cookie sheets as special trays. We would pretend that we were at this fancy restaurant which we named "Croutons" and for some reason the food and the service at this make-believe restaurant was always horrible, at least that is how we'd act it out, yet that was always "where we'd eat".
Jennie and Michelle would go all out preparing this meal that we would all eat together. I always wanted to help, but they wouldn't let me. So I just had to wait for them to get it all ready and then we'd all eat together.
Once the meal was over and the kitchen was destroyed and it was time to clean up Jennie and Michelle would say, "k Julia, you have to clean up since you didn't help cook."
Memoirs of a youngest child.

The Reason I Don't Ski.

When I was in my youth my Aunt Candy and her family used to come every year for spring break and we would all go skiing. It was pretty much the only time I'd go so I never got very good at it.
Roughly 11 years ago it was that time again, and we decided to go to Snowbird. Typically we would go to Alta, but we had some snowboarders in our midst so we decided to go somewhere where they could join us. I was familiar with Alta... I knew the runs I liked and I knew what I could handle. Snowbird I didn't know.
My cousin Michelle is an avid snowboarder and she would go to snowbird all the time, so I stuck with her and she would tell me what runs she thought I could handle.
In the early afternoon, the sun was blazing there was a crisp chill in the air I was getting into my skiing groove. Michelle wanted to do this slightly more difficult run and she wanted me to go with her (along with everyone else) I was nervous because I had never done it, so I asked her how the hills were... if they were really steep. She assured me they weren't bad.
So there I am skiing along... bits of snowy mist attaching to my sunwarmed face. It was the perfect day.
Then I turn a corner and see... a drop off... you could hardly call it a hill for how long and steep it was. Fear filled me to my very core. Usually there are "options" another way to go to miss the danger of that hill. I looked around but much to my chagrin saw nothing. Michelle was already at the hill. I says to her I says, "Uh Michelle, I thought you said there weren't any steep hills." To which she replied, "Well I knew you wouldn't come otherwise." Oh... cool, yeah that's fair... thanks for that.
I was seriously terrified. I just looked down this hill thinking how I could possibly do this and come away unscathed. It looked bleak.
So as kind of a joke I was like, "Well I'll just sit on my butt and slide down..." So I sit down, but not on the snow... on my skis, fully intending on not actually sliding down on my butt, but then I started to slide. Because of how I was positioned I couldn't stand back up and stop myself. I started picking up speed rather rapidly, and panic set in. I had absolutely no control over my speed, my direction, and stopping was not an option at this point.
I continued to pick up speed and I knew if I didn't figure out a way to stop myself this could end very badly so I put my hand down on the right side to slow me down. Apparently my speed was too much for this and all it did was shoot my body from the sitting position to the rolling-down-the-hill-as-a-human-snowball position easily comparable to what we've all seen numerous times in cartoons.
So there I am tumbling down the hill with one thing on my mind "Please don't make me break Michelle's sunglasses." Apparently you don't think too clearly when you are near death.
I tumble and flip and flail for what seemed like forever, then finally I come to a stop. About an inch of snow on my face. Nary a ski, pole, beanie nor glove remaining near my body... it was a "garage sale" the likes of which no one had ever seen before, I'm sure. Again first thought, "the sunglasses are still in tact... thank heaven" I look up the hill to see where all of my ski-belongings ended up. When my glance made it to the top of the hill all I see is dear family, laughing to the point of no control. Some keeled over, some laying down, some pointing.
I haven't been skiing since.

Flashback Friday "Where's my arm?"

OK some of you may have heard this story before, but it's a classic so you're gonna have to deal with it. (Or just stop reading because I really have no control over that, but don't stop reading k?)
So a buncha years ago my parents, sister and I were all driving to Lake of the Ozarks in Missouri. It was a LONG drive. We took the van and Jennie and I each had a bench to ourselves. We would pretty much eat, fall asleep until we ate again, and then sleep some more (Gross, no wonder I was a rolly poly).
At one point in the drive I was in the back seat and Jennie was in the middle seat. She had fallen asleep on her back with her right arm up behind her head (I hope you can get the imagery because that's essential) With her arm that way (you may need to do this yourself so you can see what she would have seen) she couldn't see it.
Anyway so there I am, watching her sleep like a creeper (I really don't know why I was watching her, but I was for some reason) and she starts to stir. She opens her eyes and I see her looking around for a second... then tired eyes turn to panic. She looks at me with fear (and a little bit of anger) and says, "Julia! WHERE IS MY ARM???" In her barely awake state of delirium she literally thought it was gone, and not only that, that I had done something with it.
I grabbed her arm from behind her head and lifted it in front of her face and let go... it was COMPLETELY DEAD and it just plopped down on top of her. To this day I don't think she and I have ever laughed that hard. Her arm had completely fallen asleep behind her head and when she woke up she couldn't feel it or see it, and actually thought it was gone.
This is one of my favorites stories. I hope you enjoyed it as much as I do, because if you didn't you need to work on your sense of humor, cuz it's funny crap!

Older Brothers

Who needs older brothers when you have MY older brothers for a father or an uncle?
I went to St George for Labor Day weekend this year. When I go there I stay with my brother Nolan his wife Treo and their two cute kids. Their house fits their family, but when I visit I sleep in the living room, which is fine I could sleep anywhere and not be bothered (even though this is an early to rise family, and I'm... not so much an early to rise...r).
During my last visit, my first night there Nolan grabbed a sleeping pad and was going to put the sheets on it, but Jaylee, his oldest daughter (3) was playing on the pad and didn't want to get off. So Nolan took the fitted sheet and put it over her and the sleeping pad. We sat back, smiled and watched the struggle as she tossed and turned under the sheet to try to free herself. She was having fun, but I turned to Nolan and said, "You see? These are the things she's going to remember when she's older and tells people why she's claustrophobic." and we laughed as Nolan said, "Seriously, I'd be FREAKING OUT if that were me."
I had realized this before, but I blame my claustrophobia, as well as my sister's on our brothers doing crap like that to us, and now they pass that on to their children. Being an "older brother" doesn't stop once the title changes to father. Maybe it's simply being a dude.
My next example comes from reading my sister's blog. She posted pictures from when my brother Justin went to visit and play with the kids. He had taken this headband or some sort of stretchy something. Took Leila's arms behind her back and put the stretchy something around them, so she couldn't bring them forward. Then sat back and laughed as she tried to free herself. She's ONE! Then Jace, her older brother, saw this and wanted to have his arms trapped. So Justin did the same thing to him. Jace is 6 now, and it didn't take long before he realized he was in fact trapped and just started crying to get free. Just as, I'm sure, his mother would have reacted if she realized her arms were trapped.
Seeing these things made me think back on all the times my brothers have done these things to me. Watching Justin sit over Jennie, with one hand hold both of her hands above her head, and with the other tickle her. This got so bad that if Justin would just approach her even pretending to do it, she would immediately burst into tears.
I also think of the times when they would take the bar from the bench press, they would put the BIGGEST weights on it, and as many as they could, then they would lay us down and put the bar over our necks. It was high enough that it wouldn't touch our necks, but low enough that we couldn't slide under it, and heavy enough that we couldn't lift it, and then they would turn the lights off and leave the room.
You may have laughed at that. It's funny, sure. BUT PEOPLE big brothers doing stuff like this causes SERIOUS issues later on. Claustrophobia is a real, terrifying thing. My aunt Robin has it thanks to her brothers (my dad included) I have it thanks to my brothers. My nieces and nephews will have it, even if they don't have older brothers because they have dads and uncles.
Boys are mean!

Benjamin Button-itis

I've noticed in my life that the older I get the younger people think I am. (Not a bad deal) My whole life people always thought I was older (sometimes much MUCH older) than I actually was. These are a few examples, some are pretty extreme and will seem untrue, but I tell you now, everything you are about to read is 100% true.
Age 12 I was at Academy for Girls (EFY but for the younger ages) we went to an old folk's home and I was helping and elderly lady make a hanger for her doorknob, and she said to me something along the lines of, "Things are so difficult once you get to my age, it's so nice to have you young people come and help... how old are you? 20? 30?" This is where it all started.
When I was 16 I sang at my cousin Shad's wedding. My cousin Marissa was there with her daughters. Her daughter Kierra was 6 months old. I LOVED holding her all the time. At the wedding Kierra was sleeping in my arms and this lady came up to me, and said how beautiful she was, followed by, "That is such a bonding time for mother and child, when they sleep in your arms." I didn't want to embarrass her so I just said, "Yeah..."
Next example: When I was 17, a senior in high school. I was taking a class called Elementary tutoring. I was planning on being a teacher and in this class I would go to an Elementary school and basically was an aid in the 2nd grade class. Toward the end of the school year they were doing a talent show. At this point I had bonded with the kids and they really wanted me to go. So I went and sat amongst the parents. One lady turned to me and said, "Which one is yours?" I just looked at her in shock and said, "I'm 17! I'm the aid for this class." Really lady did I look old enough to have an 8 year old?
That same year(this is where it starts to get crazy) My sister was cheering for the University of Utah. I drove her to her practice in the morning and they had some sort of orientation so I stayed to watch. At the end of the practice Jennie came up to me. Keep in mind she was 19 at the time, and again, I was 17. We talked for a bit and then she walked away, and this older lady came up to me and said, "Are you the mom?" SERIOUSLY!!!! I looked at her in SUCH disgust and said, "I'm her YOUNGER sister!!!" to which she replied. "Well that's nice." I was pretty upset... I get that I look older than I am, but old enough to have a 19 year old daughter???
A few years later I was talking to an RS president in my single's ward. She asked me how old I was and I said, "21" she was shocked and said, "Really I thought you were my age." I remember being totally appalled at that as she was 27 (I think about that all the time now as I am now 27... do 21 year olds still think 27 is SO OLD???).
A couple years later. I was at work and it was my birthday. This guy who came into my office somewhat regularly said, "So how old are you... 24... 25?" I said, "Oh I'm 23.." Smile turned to shock on his face. "Oh... I was kidding... I thought you were... older." It was then that I realized he was trying to be flattering by obviously guessing way younger than he thought I actually was.
And finally. The story to end all. When I was 21 my sister and I were at a restaurant. I was holding her 6 month old son Jace. A lady (obviously old and senile) came to us and said how cute he was and asked who the mother was. I pointed at Jennie and just smiled. Then she looked at me and said, "And you're the grandma?" Right away, Jennie nearly choked on her laughter. I just looked at her and said, "No"
As I said though, the older I get the younger people think I am now. Someone guessed yesterday that I was 20-21, according to these stories the last time I would have looked that age would have been like 10. I have some ideas as to why, but the drastic-ousity of the guesses still surprise me.

Family Dynamics

Over the years through meetings lots of different families I have noticed something. Every family as something that they bond over. Something that when they get together for dinner or whatever, helps them to connect with each other. For some of my friends that would be, intelligent conversation, whether it be politics, current events, what have you. Other friends it's who is the best at whatever, taking turns telling stories of grandeur and one upping each other. For my family it's making each other laugh. Who can get to the joke first? Who can make fun of the person the fastest? Every time we get together we spend the majority of the evening laughing SO HARD!
Some of the things that make us laugh the hardest is when someone tells what should be a funny story that doesn't translate like they should and someone else calling them out on it. Personal example. I heard this hilarious story, when I heard it I laughed so hard for so long it got pretty awkward as the person I was with just sat there waiting patiently for me to stop. I can tell a good story so at a family dinner I re-told it. I didn't get the laugh I was wanting, so as my laugh faded out I said, "Oh man I laughed so hard when _____ told me." Without skipping a beat my brother Dane says, "So he told it better than you then?" And the family roared with laughter.
Another thing that gets us going is the person who keeps a joke going one step longer than it should. We can take a word or a saying or a joke and spin it into so many different jokes after each one laughing just as hard as the first, but there is a time limit on this. HEAVEN FORBID you be the person that tells the joke that crosses that time line and turns the focus on you and your idiocy, starting a new round of joking.
We are a family that likes to use ridiculous words for sport, such as, "progrum" "'twixt" "unbeknownst" (which as of yesterday led to "beknownst" and "knownst". However we are grammar sticklers (more in the form of speaking, not typing) I remember one night we were talking about words that drive us crazy like "irregardless". My brother Justin said, "I know it's like the word 'always'. 'Always' isn't a word... it's 'Alway...' (this is the point that he realized he wasn't thinking of the word "always" he was thinking of the word "anyways". We all had a hay-day with that one.
One thing that sucks when it happens to you, but is awesome when you do it is stealing someone's joke. There was one time we were sitting around the table telling stories as we always end up doing and through the boisterous conversation I said something that was HILARIOUS, but due to the volume no one but my brother Dane heard it. Realizing his opportunity, he didn't laugh at my awesome joke either, if he had he wouldn't be able to use it. Instead he waited a second and when it had quieted down he repeated it verbatim. The table went wild with his hilarity. Through everyone's laughter and my dismay, he looks over at me and quietly said, "You see what I did there?" Totally getting the credit for my joke. (Same thing happened to me last night but the joke stealer didn't hear me say it, just also said it a little later but got more laughs... I turned to my brother-in-law who heard me say it the first time and said, "I guess it's funnier coming from Jennie")
I love this about my family, and when it comes to dating one of the first things I look for is someone who I feel could keep up. It actually is a deal breaker. Years ago there was a guy I was TOTALLY interested in. Like big time crush. He was also a guy that if arranged marriages were something going on these days, my parents would pick him out in a heart beat. BUT we were all sitting around the table one day and I just imagined what it would be like if he were there, and I knew in that moment he would not fit in. He wouldn't be able to join in, he may be offended even. In that moment the crush was completely wiped out.
I love my family dynamic. I love that we have so much fun together. It's what keeps us getting together on a monthly basis if not more. We LOVE to hang out with each other. There is never a dull moment. Last night I was driving home from dinner and I was just thinking about different things that were said, and I couldn't help but chuckle as I drove.
I lucked out in the family department.

"Types"

So most people have a "type". That particular look they always seem to like. That particular genre of person they prefer to date. All "types" are different and I like to think that most people don't HAVE to date within that type, but just find themself doing that more often than not.
This is fine, it's normal, it's common. Me? I don't have a physical type. If you were to line up the guys I have dated/been interested in, they range like CRAZY as far as physical appearance goes, but as far as personality goes they are all pretty similar. I am a personality snob, and if the guy has it I am typically attracted to it right away, a lot of times regardless of how "hot" they may be.
Ok that is not really the point. The point is, I know I don't fit into every guy's "type" that's fine. BUT don't hit on me, then tell me I'm not your type, then continue to hit on me.
Yes there is a story behind this...
A few years ago I was trying out a new ward with my friend Katie. We were at ward prayer and this kid came up to us and talked to us for a while flirting pretty heavily with both of us. Side note: Katie has brown hair, I am blonde and he had red hair. He goes on to tell us his rating system. This is how the conversation went from there.
Dude-I base girls on a 1-10 scale based on hair color. Red heads are either 1-3 range or 8-10 range. They are either really unfortunate looking or really hot. Blondes range from about 4-9 it's not often you meet one that is really unattractive, but they'll never be a 10 in my book (HA remember how I'm blonde and he just said that to me?) Brunettes can span the scale from 1-10.
Me- did you really just say blondes can never be a 10? You do realize you're saying this to a blonde right?
Dude- Well I mean you could be up to a 9...
Me- But I'll never be a 10 to you. Why would I ever go out with someone who I knew would never see me as a 10 when I knew that I could find someone else who would?
Dude-well a lot of girls are never actually 10's so being a 9 is still really good. Plus you could always dye your hair.
Me- Or I could just find the guy who would think I'm a 10 as I am.

Ok here's the thing. I am sure a lot of guys would agree with him. Some guys are brunette guys, some guys prefer blondes. That is fine, BUT DON'T TELL THE GIRL THAT if she's not the one you prefer! ESPECIALLY if you are wanting to ask her out. I knew he was more interested in my friend but it was pretty clear he was the kind of guy that would just take what he could get, so he was being just as flirty with both of us to see who, if either, which ended up being neither, would bite. Idiot.
As mentioned before this was a few years ago, and I don't see him often, but I have seen him a couple of times over the years and every time he tries to be all flirty again. Sorry dude you didn't have much of a chance to begin with and you nailed that door shut yourself.
Man... some guys have no tact.

Clumsy = Not Hot

As I laid at the bottom of my stairs after my most recent falling incident I thought to myself, "That's a shame no one saw that because I'm sure that was a sight to see."
Here's the thing. Tripping isn't attractive, clumsiness isn't attractive. It's funny as all get out, sure, but not attractive and I trip ALL THE TIME.
Here are some doosies, for your imaginative pleasure.
Going to the movies with my friend Liz, a common occurance about a year ago. The theatre was nearly empty. As we walked in between these two dudes who were conversing amongst themselves, and I mean right as we walked in between them, my heel caught the cuff of my pants. I do a little hop and squeal my shoe breaks free and I continue walking, Liz of course was stopped dead in her tracks, just laughing away, as were the two dudes.
Another time I am on a date, we walk out of his place and I am walking in front down concrete stairs. My heel gets caught in the cuff of my pants (again, same pants) and again hop and squeal (much more terrifying whilst walking down concrete stairs) and I'm good and continue on as I hear him say, "Holy **** that scared the crap outta me."
Another time, I am in my friend's kitchen sitting around the table with about 4 people. I get up to get a drink and heel in cuff (I think there is a lesson to be learned here, I'm still trying to figure it out)This time the hop and squeal wasn't successful. I hop, but my heel stays planted in my cuff, I begin to fall, my knee slams into the cupboards and I hit the floor. Tripping is bad enough, tripping and falling... humiliating.
Then what sent me into this thought. At my workout class this week the dude would not let up on our quads, they hurt so bad all week long. Last night I was walking down the stairs to my bedroom. On the right side there is a handle and a wall, on the left side there is nothing. I'm walking down and I have about 3-4 steps left and my right leg decides to give out. I, of course, reach to the left to save myself, but there is nothing there. So I tumble. Just tumble away down the remaining stairs. Carpeted, luckily. It was terrifying, my body was moving in ways I didn't know I could move, it's amazing what the body can do when trying to save itself. I may have pulled an ab in the process.
I know that fall was not attractive. I am a clumsy person. I trip all the time. I always squeal when I trip. Could this,in a small way attribute to my marital status?
Thoughts from a single 27 year old.

The New Kid

Ok so I have moved. I'm in my new place, and I was afraid it was going to be hard but it was better than I expected. This I have talked about.
Here is the thing. In the beginning everything was great, I had made this whole change, I was meeting tons of new people, everything was new. It/I was a novelty.
The novelty has worn off.
The thing about me is I am a sarcastic person. Not everyone likes/gets sarcasm. I have learned this throughout my life by being seen as mean or initimidating. So many people have told me that when they first met me they were intimidated by me, or even afraid of me. Also add the fact that my stance of choice is arms folded, AND the fact that I'm shy. I get it, I understand the first impression I make.
That being said, it takes me a long time for me to be comfortable enough to come out of my shell.
So back to being the new kid. I have been really open to meeting new people lately, I've had to, I've thrown myself into a completely new place where I know no one. Luckily I have been invited to a lot of BBQ's and parties and such, and I go, but I stand there quietly... arms folded talking only when spoken to. WHAT? That is not me! I am not that girl. I am a hoot! I am the girl telling stories and making people laugh with my tales of clumsiness and blondocity, often using some sort of accent.
Right now I feel trapped. I go to activities and want to talk to people, want to tell jokes, want to be comfortable enough to just talk to anyone, but I can't. How does one overcome this?
Prime example. At my place of employ for the first 10 months I worked here, no one knew me. People thought I was super quiet, with no personality. People were afraid of me. I did my job in silence. Then I switched departments and met a girl who is super outgoing and crazy and she pulled me out of my shell. That's also around the time I started this blog. People heard about it and started reading it (it used to be a really funny blog, if you haven't read from the beginning I recommend you do that) and I found out my now friend asked another girl, "Did you know that she's funny?" Now I'm known in the office for being silly, crazy, funny... I'm known to not be the quiet girl I was. That took me 10 MONTHS!
I do not want to be where I'm at for the next 10 months not knowing anyone. Not being myself. Plus I'm only under contract for 6 months, so it's possible that the entire time I live here I'll be stuck? No! I refuse.
I am getting more comfortable, and I am meeting new people, but I'm still not totally being myself, I'm still being shy. I need to knock that off. I need to learn how to not be shy anymore. There's gotta be some self-help books out there on that right? I'll do some research.
To summarize, I hate being the new kid.

Starting Over

So it's been a week and a half since I moved and it has been a GREAT week and a half.
I think once I made the decision to move I knew it needed to happen as soon as possible. Things where I was just started to get worse and worse, and not necessarily because anything was changing, but because I KNEW I needed to leave. I was ready to leave and I couldn't wait to start over. Starting over has always been something that terrified me, but in this case I was so excited at what lied ahead for me.
I started going to my new ward a few weeks before I moved, and the first Sunday there it just felt right. The month of July was a long one. I was ready.
I moved Saturday the 23rd and since then things have just been really good. I've been really happy, in a way that I haven't been in a long time. I didn't realize till I left how stagnate I was feeling, and now it's like I have so many opportunities that I didn't have before.
I thought before I moved that it would take a few months for me to be happy with the move, for me to feel like I understood why I did what I did, but that feeling came immediately. I was immediately happier. A huge weight had been lifted off my shoulders and I knew for 100% certainty that I made the right decision and that feels good.
The people I have met and the things I have done since I moved haven't even really been in relation to where I live, but I have been more open to meeting new people, I have had more confidence to meet new people. I am taking opportunities to be in situations where I don't know anyone SO I can meet new people and already it has been so fun. I love my new ward, I think my roommates are going to be great. I love my house. Like I said other things have been happening that aren't even in relation to the move. Music is picking up like crazy.
When you do something you know you are supposed to do, even if it's scary and hard, you will be blessed. I am so grateful to know that I did what I did because I was guided to do so, of that I have no doubt. NO DOUBT! And because I did what I was supposed to do, I am being blessed.
The reasons I had a hard time leaving are because of the people I left, but the people that mean the most to me are still very much a part of my life, and the people I left that are gone, well clearly it was good to clean house.
Starting over this time around has been grand!

Ode to the roomies...

So I am moving this Saturday. I moved into the house I live now in February of 2009. I moved into a house of 5 girls, none of which I knew, one of which I'd be sharing a room with. That is an intimidating thing. Girls can be drama. Girls can be difficult to get along with. But these girls are different.
After living there only a week I was going to be having surgery and I was having a really bad day. My new roommates, seeing this, decided to gather me up and we all went to Belgian Waffle. I wasn't allowed to eat past midnight so we went at about 10 PM. That was the first night I bonded with those girls and it was that night that I knew I made the right decision moving into that house. Since then we have become so close and each year in March we'll go back to Belgian Waffle late at night. We call it Roommate Belgian Waffle night and we make goals for the next year. Something I look forward to each year.
Then that May our landlord threatened to not open our pool (not very seriously methinks) so we decided to throw a "Save the Pool" party. We invited a bunch of people over saying, "If you want to use our pool this summer you better donate to the fund to open it." That night we all wore these hot pink mardigras beeds so everyone would know who "the roommates" were. We all wore them differently, bracelet style, necklace style what have you and we all were stained where we wore the necklaces. I still have mine hanging in my rearview mirror in my car. One particular roommate, who I refer to as Roommate and have since that day, and I use the term "roommate beads" as a term of comradery. Those roommate beads are significant and not everyone has them... Pretty sure we raised about $60 that night and pretty sure none of us really have any idea what happened to that money, it just vanished little by little until it was gone.
That fall we were all hanging out in the house on 09-09-09 and decided at about 9:00 that we needed to have a one minute long party. So at 9:09 we all celebrated New Year's Eve style, we had margaritas and hit pots and pans and cheered for one minute and then it was back to normal life. We decided to continue that tradition on 10-10-10 at 10:10 only last year we invited friends, had fireworks and all that jazz. Another tradition I look forward to continuing... at least for the next two years.
After living in a house with 5 other girls for a while, people starting referring to us simply as "The Roommates", for example, "What are you doing tonight?" "Oh I heard there was a 10-10-10 party at the roommates house"
I have loved living in this house. Roommates have come and gone, but one thing I have noticed is that the people who have moved in after me have had the same feeling of, "I needed to move here" Moving into the house was one of the best decisions I've made, and moving out will be one of the hardest.
Things I'm going to miss.
Melissa talking in her sleep- some of my funniest and most terrifying moments in the house are a result of that.
Dani- Just Dani, her stories, her falling, her laugh resonating through the house, the sound of crashing that follows her wherever she goes. The precautions we need to take to protect her... i.e. putting an "X" of masking tape on the screen door so she won't walk into it... again.
The carpet in the living room that sounds like a diaper when you walk on it because someone didn't take the plastic off before they laid it.
Being able to have pinatas in the house.
The couches of all varieties.
The skouch
All gathering in the upstairs bathroom just talking as we all get ready to go out to our different activities.
Scaring ourselves so bad we all have to sleep together in the living room.
Doing handstands with Melissa and Kristen (Roommate) in the living room.
The balcony off my bedroom where the wood is so rotten it's terrifying to walk on, I will miss sleeping on it.
The pool.
How many friends we get because of the pool ;)
Scaring Amy every time I come down the stairs because for some reason she can't hear me coming.
Falling asleep to Melissa watching whatever CW show she is addicted to at the moment.
Sitting on the floor in Kristen's room as she crafts a new decoration for her bedroom while discussing our dating stories.
Our stinky fridge that no matter how many times it's cleaned always smells like death, I really will miss that.
All gathering in the kitchen and just gabbing and inevitably getting scared when someone walks up to the sliding glass door.
I am going to miss this house and my roomies. If I didn't know for certain I was doing the right thing, I don't think I could leave it.

Half Marathon...

So I have run a few races in my day. Maxing out at 3.1 miles. Those I have to train for. When I train for those I run a mile and a half or two miles and that is hard for me. I like to sign up for races to keep me motivated and keep me training and in shape, but one thing I have learned of myself is signing up for a race does not mean I will train for it, but I will run it anyway and want to die.
Truth be told, I hate running. I want to love it. I want to be one of those people that goes running every day. That can just run for miles and feel ok. I actually dream about it. I dream about running and not being tired. Strange?
When I'm awake though, I dread it.
I did the dirty dash 5k in June and it was really hard for me. Granted I was sick, but I'm pretty sure I used that as more of an excuse to how poorly I did than it actually was. After that race the friends I ran with asked if I wanted to sign up for the 10k in Sept. AIN'T NO WAY! I had no desire. I hear friends doing ragnar, no desire. I hear people training for marathons and half marathons, FER SHER no desire. Running just wasn't my cup 'o tea.
Last week my sister emailed me, as she does on a pretty regular basis, and told me she was thinking about doing a half marathon in October and wanted to know if I would like to do it with her. She had been training for a couple of weeks and said I could catch up relatively quickly. Something perked in me. Some sort of desire. There was more fear and deep down I felt like I could talk to her about it, but I wouldn't actually do it. I could talk all positively, but when it came down to register for it I wouldn't do it. So I started talking about it. Looking into it. She emailed me her training schedule, and in order to be on track with her I was going to have to run 4 miles on Saturday. HA 4 miles, if someone were to ask me to run a 5k I wouldn't do it, knowing I wasn't capable. So I figured I'd shoot for two and work my way up.
I went to the gym on Saturday for my first day of training. After about a mile I was feeling really good. I knew I could do two but would shoot for 3. After 2 miles I still felt really good... shockingly. To the point that I had a giddy little grin on my face. I was going to do three, maybe shoot for 4. How great would it be if I was already on pace with Jennie. If I ran 4 it would be further than I had ever run before. I hit 3 miles, nothing is stopping me now. At about 3.5 miles my right ankle started to hurt a bit, but I'm stubborn, I knew I wouldn't let that stop me. I had to get to 4 at this point. I was a little worried that I would injure myself on day one of training, but I had to finish. I was preparing in my mind getting a bag of ice for my ankle when I went home and having it be all swollen. 3.75 Now it was getting hard. 3.76 "Really just one hundredth of a mile" 3.77 "This is taking forever." I watched every hundredth of a mile for the last quarter mile, but I finished. 4 miles, 46 minutes even and I was just floating. My ankle was fine. I was all kinds of embarrassingly sweaty (note to self don't wear a tank top that will show the boob sweat) but I was feeling so good. I ran 4 miles on day one. I can TOTALLY run 13 after 3 months of training. Turns out, running is VERY psychological I was talking myself out of running before. NOW I'm excited for the half. I registered on Monday, did my second day of training 3 miles, felt like a breeze (ish not totally breezy but easier than it has ever been before).
Jennie and I talk on each day of training and discuss our pace and everything, having her run this with me is going to really help me, and I am so excited to do this together.
We are going to own this race.

A Change in the Wind

So about two weeks ago my friends had an apartment warming party. I walked in and my friend was giving me the tour of her new digs and I found myself itching...
It has been a while since I have moved anywhere. From the time I was 18 until I was 25 I had moved 14 times. I would just get bored and move from place to place all the time, I lived in Logan, Sandy, Hawaii, Sandy, Riverton, Midvale, Sandy, Provo, Bountiful, Daybreak, Sandy, Murray, Sandy, and then finally to the house I live in now, again in Sandy (but not my parent's house).
When I moved the last time I told myself I would not move out of this house until I got married, sure that that would be happening in the next year! It HAD to.
In the time that I lived in this house I would still get the itch to change things up, but I would just change wards. It was easily done I lived in the boundaries of both a student ward and a single's ward. I went to the student ward for a year, then it got split so I became part of a new ward, and then I got bored there and went to the single's ward.
Well they have changed things now so that you either go to the single's ward you live in the boundaries of, or the home ward you live in the boundaries of. So my need to change things up has been made quite a bit more difficult.
When I went to the apartment warming I knew I needed to mix things up. The thing is, it's not just an "itch" I get, it's a feeling of knowing that I have gotten what I can get out of my current situation and I won't get anymore. Once I realize that I feel really stuck and I know I need to change things up as soon as possible if I want to continue progressing. The only way I can do that now is if I move.
The thing is, I live in a house with girls I love. I live in a nice neighborhood, in a nice house, with really cheap rent and a pool. This is not a situation I would easily want to leave. The thought of not living with my roommates anymore breaks my heart a little bit, and I just have to lean on the hope that in the last 2 and a half years we have built genuine friendships that will not easily fade away.
(I'm realizing this is going to be a long post because I keep thinking of things that I don't want to forget in this story)
About a month ago, this girl added me as a friend on Facebook. At first I didn't know who she was, and then I remembered meeting her like a year and a half ago at a game night. I didn't know what prompted her to add me after meeting only once or twice a LONG time ago, but I accepted. About three weeks later I posted that I was looking for a place to live in Salt Lake, and she sent me an email with a listing. I went and looked on Friday and I knew I really liked that place. As soon as I knew that IF I was really going to move this was the place it would be to, I got really sad at the thought of leaving my current roommates, but only because it was becoming more real, not because I felt like it wasn't right. If anything it felt more right and the realization was kind of a hard one to face. I told the landlord yes, knowing it would be a week before I could sign anything. I still wasn't 100% but I didn't want them to give the room away.
Friday night my dad called me to talk about my decision. I told him what I felt, that it would be hard but I knew I needed a change and this felt right, that the only thing holding me back was the fear of the unknown. That I didn't know anyone there and that would be hard, but I need to meet new people and the only way to do that is to immerse myself in a new crowd. I was scared and it was a big decision, then my dad said, "Well I know enough to know you're praying about it, so trust whatever decision you make, I've learned that I can trust your decisions." That statement alone meant the world to me. To know my father trusts me completely. To know that I should be able to trust my decisions like he does. I know I am going about making this decision the right way, and I also know that I have been guided a lot in my life to where I, more often than not, know when the decision is mine alone or when it is inspired. In that moment I knew my decision was inspired and it was made.
I still decided to fast about it on Sunday, and though it was a really hard day and not the way I was expecting my answer, by the time I went to bed that night I knew my time in Sandy was done and I needed to move on.
There is a lot I will miss with this move, but there is a lot I am looking forward to, and a lot of doors this will open. I have been to the new ward and I am excited at the new opportunities I will have. It won't be an easy move, but I think it will be good for me and I welcome the change.
I am grateful for inspiration. Inspiration I am given and inspiration in my behalf. I don't doubt that girl was inspired to "add me" on facebook right at the time I would be looking for a new place. I have since talked to her about it and I can tell she knows that it was inspiration too. I am grateful for that, to know I am watched and looked out for. Makes me feel like I'm heading in the right direction, and that is a good feeling.

Aunt Candy July 8, 1954 - June 29, 2011

My dear Aunt Candy passed away this morning, and all I can think of is the talk my father gave at his mother's funeral 7 years ago. I hope he doesn't mind, but I am going to quote some of his talk, paraphrased a bit.
"Longfellow described our departure from life in this way, 'The grave is but a covered bridge leading from light to light through a brief darkness.' Of the metaphors for death that I have heard, that of a bridge is as good as any.
"On this side of the bridge, on Thursday morning, word went from mouth to ear among Candy's family and friends, 'Did you hear? Candy is gone.' Just so, on the other side, word quickly passed from spirit to spirit among the many friends and family there, 'Did you hear? Candy is coming."
My dad wrote this poem when my maternal grandmother died, Candy's mom. I have saved a copy of it and love it.
Setting Sail
A tall ship is sailing today with the tide,
Her bow is set to the sea.
A Crowd goes down to the pier to watch,
Among them, my father and me.
Her lines are cast from their moorings
at the sound of the captain's cry.
Her gangplank is pulled from the loading dock,
and her banner is raised to the sky.
We watch as the breeze fills her canvas.
We see mainmast and anchor and keel.
The crew is manning the rigging,
and the master is at the wheel.
She grows small as she sails far away to the east,
where the sun meets the ocean at dawn.
And when her great sails can no longer be seen
I say to my father, "She's gone."
"Gone where?" asks my father as he kneels by my side.
"She's not gone but to you and me.
The horizon was not that great ship's goal,
Nor the ocean her destiny.
"That ship is bound for a distant shore
Where others like you and me
Are waiting to welcome her back again
from her voyage across the sea.
"And when they see her white sails arise
from the waves in the west, far away,
They'll shout, 'Here she comes,' and run to the pier
and salute as she enters the bay.
"No son, her sails are still filled with the wind.
She's at mainmast and anchor and keel.
The crew is still manning the rigging,
and the master is still at the wheel."

Loved ones are left here with the memory of a great woman, to which no one can be compared, but loved ones are on the other side welcoming you home and I'm so grateful to have that knowledge. To know that you are there, you are home.
I love you Aunt Candy.

"He's Really Picky..."

Ok so this is something I have heard quite a bit recently, not just in regards to me but my friends and others. People say this like it's a negative thing, like people are being too harsh, or too judgemental, or whatever. Here are my thoughts on being "picky".
I am picky too, and the older I get and the more I date, the more picky I become. As I go through my dating life, get my heart broken, break hearts, what have you I have learned a lot about what I actually want, what I won't put up with, what I'll settle for. That is being picky, and I feel like in this most important decision I'll probably ever make I SHOULD be picky.
There are plenty of guys that I have gone out with that are great guys, have so much going for them, but they're not for me for whatever reason, I am being picky and that's ok.
As all girls do, I have throughout my life, made a list of the things I want in my future husband. My list now is entirely different than it was when I was a teenager or even in my early 20's, and it's a lot more detailed, but one thing I have noticed is they are more qualities of a man, and hardly physical. There are a lot of things I am willing to overlook and there are things I won't do without.
I am going to be picky and I hope whoever chooses me is picky. I want to know that I am what they want, not what they are willing to settle for. I don't want to end up with someone that I am so happy about but feel like they settled for me. I want to know that they WERE picky, and I fit the mold of what they want.
Also something to keep in mind, guys not being interested shouldn't be that big of a deal. I wish I wouldn't take it so personally, but the fact of the matter is, there have been a lot of guys that I am not interested in, but it doesn't mean I don't respect them, or think they will be great husbands or anything, there was just "something missing", which is LEGITIMATE! That feeling is real, it happens and I daresay there is nothing you can do about it.
So girls, if someone says to you, "Well he is just being too picky." It really doesn't matter the real meaning is, he's just not interested in you. For whatever reason he's not feeling it, and you don't want to be with someone who is not feeling it, I know I don't. I want to be with someone who can't wait to see me again. Who thinks about me when we're not together. Who feels LUCKY to be dating me. One thing on my long list of wants, is to be with someone who wants to be with me. So BE PICKY!

Belated Father's Day Blog

Ok so I have the greatest father in the whole wide world. Of that I am certain. I have a very close relationship with my Poppa and I love that. I tell him just about everything, he knows about every guy I go out with, what happens when we go out, what we talk about, how he hurt me (as per usual) and what not. The "how he hurt me" talks are always a little hard on him I can tell, he never really knows what to say and often asks me, "Have you talked to your sister about that?" but just talking to him always gives me comfort.
One of my very favorite memories is from when I was a little girl. I would always be sent to bed, and my dad would be down in the basement watching TV. He always laid the same way, on his side with his legs bent in a way that would leave this little nook behind his legs just my size. There would be nights I would have a bad dream or just couldn't sleep, and I'd come downstairs with my pink blanket and I'd climb into the little nook behind his legs and watch TV with him. If my mom would come down, I'd hurry and cover myself with my blanket and my dad would act like he didn't know where I was so I wouldn't have to go back to bed. Obviously the blanket was a dead give away, but my mom would play along, I'd often fall asleep there and wake up in the morning tucked cozily in my bed.
As mentioned before I talk to my dad about everything. I think what started that was when I was 11 my dad was called to be bishop of my ward. So when I was in Young Women's once a year I would have a Bishop's interview. With my dad it was often sitting on the front porch, or in the living room, but it would just be a conversation between father and daughter, he'd ask what was going on in my life and we'd just talk. I grew accustomed to that and once he was released I still found myself telling him all of what was going on in my life. I LOVE those conversations.
He is my strength. I grew up always hearing about what an example his father is to him. How he wishes he could be the spiritual beacon that his father is. He would be happy if he "was half the man his father is" and every time I would hear him say something like that I would think, "That's how I see you." I see my father as the spiritual leader I hope my husband will be. The kind of Father I hope to have for my children. The kind of husband I could only wish for. Every guy will be compared to my father, and so far NO guy has measured up. My dad raised the bar pretty high.
The thing I love the most is how much my Poppa loves my mom. They moved to Malaysia in March of 2009 and since then it seems their love has grown so much. For the first time in their 36 year marriage they only had each other to rely on, and they have grown so close it's amazing to see. My mom will go out of town and I can just tell they ache to be apart from each other. That is the kind of relationship I pray for.
Finally, the clincher. There is one statement my siblings and I have heard time and time again from him. This one statement has us coming home when we know we've done something wrong. Tells us we can talk to our father about anything and know he will always be there for us. Let's us know that no matter what happens to us or because of us we always have our parents and our family. I heard it every time I got in trouble, every time I felt ashamed, every time I felt I let him down, and that statement is, "There is nothing you could ever do that would make me stop loving you." That statement has given me so much comfort throughout my life and I know that it's true.
I love you Poppa!!! Happy Father's Day.

Birthday Blog For My Brother

Today is my brother Dane's birthday and I was thinking about stories I could tell about him... This will be random I'm sure, but these are just some things that came to my mind.
When I was a little girl my dad used to tell my sister and I stories when he would tuck us in. He called these stories Goosie-Gapas. He had a gift for telling these stories, and the only other person who was capable of telling a story worthy of being called a Goosie-Gapa was Dane.
I LOVED these stories so much. They were always about two little princesses named Jennie and Julia, and we would go on these adventures that would always have doors to go through, one door would have a fire breathing dragon guarding gold and silver and the other would be some sort of castle or dungeon or something equally exciting.
I remember several occasions where Dane would have a chore he needed to do. He'd say, "Julia, if you empty the dishwasher for me I'll tell you a Goosie-Gapa tonight." Of course I would jump at the opportunity. I would finish emptying the dishwasher and be so excited for Dane to tuck me in, and then he'd come to me and say, "I asked mom if I could tell you a story and she said it was too late and that I need to go to bed... sorry." I fell for this a number of times.
I remember another time Dane ran away from home. I was so scared and worried that he'd never come home. Dane is 6 years older than me, and I have no idea how old I was at the time, but I was so scared. I remember crying and praying before I went to bed that he would come home. Later that night I remember waking up to Dane being beside my bed telling me everything was ok, that he was home and I didn't need to be scared anymore. I don't know if he remembers that, but I will never forget how happy I was to see him, and how comforted he made me feel.
Now as adults, Dane and I are really close. Our personalities are so similar, we find all the same things funny, and REALLY funny. We tease each other relentlessly and always laugh so hard together. I talk to him about all my dating woes, but more importantly he asks. He wants to know, and cares about what's going on.
Since my parents have been gone in Malaysia he has been my priesthood leader. He has been my example, and I have used him for priesthood blessings. Also an experience I will never forget.
I am so lucky to have the family I have. To have the relationships with my siblings that I have.
Dane I love you and I hope you have an amazing birthday.

Juvenile "Delinquents"

Last night I had the opportunity, with my group, to go sing for a group of kids that are in a correctional facility. We were asked about a month or so ago, and I was looking forward to it, but didn't really know what to expect.
We were asked to do a fireside, but mainly non-denominational. The music that we sing in my group is Southern Gospel, Bluegrass A Cappella. The man in charge told me we can sing about Jesus and God, but not to talk about being LDS.
When we got there it was just a group of girls, they all wore the same thing, khaki pants and green shirts, or green sweatshirts. They were all mainly Hispanic and they were ordered here and there to help set up chairs and move furniture to make room for our sound equipment. They asked permission for things like going to the bathroom, or even looking in the mirror. They sat patiently waiting for us to get set up and for the boys to arrive. I couldn't help but wonder what their lives were like. Steve (the branch president) said they were all there for committing some sort of crime, nothing like murder or anything, but theft and stuff. He said they all come from horrible home lives, broken families, single parent families, what have you.
I didn't know how to talk to them, I didn't know what to say, so I found myself standing in the back until it was our time.
Only about 7 boys came, the rest weren't able to because of "bad behaviour".
We went up and sang our first song with no introduction. They were so excited. When we finished the first song one of the boys says, "You guys are like the temptations, but with a girl." A girl raised her hand and when we called on her she points to me and says, "You have a really good voice." Then we sang another song. They loved it, they were getting so into it. After every couple of songs they would ask us questions about our weird harmonica (also known as a pitch pipe) how we met, if we have trained, where we were from. They were so interested in us.
It was probably one of my favorite shows with the group. We had fun up there, we interacted with them, we laughed, by the end of the show we were friends with these kids and I just wanted to stay there. After the concert we talked with some of the kids, and a couple of the girls sang for us. They had beautiful voices and my heart just melted as they sang. I wanted to stay with them, I wanted to teach them. To tell them that they should stick with it, and all that they were capable of. I wanted better for them.
The boys left and I wanted to hug all of them. They were SO sweet, so respectful and so kind. The girls wanted to keep talking, and asking what kind of music I liked, what was my favorite to sing, how long I have been singing. I just sat there thinking, I need to work with these kids. They need people who love them and believe in them. I want to be one of those people.
I left a different person than I started. I felt bad that I hid in the back before, not knowing how to talk to them, I was intimidated by them. These sweet kids. I didn't even give them a chance. How many people do that to them on a daily basis? Is that why they are where they are, because people like me see them and turn the other direction? I don't want to be that person anymore.
What a humbling experience. One I'm sure I will never forget.

The Best Moment of My Life.

This story is a favorite of mine to tell. This is what I describe as the defining moment of my life.
I am a singer. It's who I am, it's what I do. It took a lot of years to get to the point where I could confidently stand in front of people and sing and feel like I could do that without error.
I started lessons when I was 11 and for years and years I had no confidence, I didn't know how to pick songs for my voice, I didn't know how to sing. I loved it, but I didn't know what I was doing and it wasn't good. I had a lot of performances that I left in tears, a LOT of performances I will never forget the embarrassment. Auditions gone awry.
I would watch the girls that got the lead roles in the musicals with so much envy. I would listen to soloists and long to be able to sing like that. I remember how it feels to just wish so much that I could do that. But I wasn't good enough and I knew that. I auditioned for EVERYTHING but there was always someone better. Someone who would outshine me, and then I would watch them do what I wanted to do so badly and know the better person was chosen. I remember sitting in audiences for talent shows that I didn't make and just ache knowing how badly I wanted to be up on that stage (much like how I feel now when I watch American Idol or The Voice auditions)
My senior year of high school I auditioned for the senior talent show. I had auditioned for 11 different things in my high school career and never made anything. The musicals were over, the choirs were over, this was it. This was my last chance to sing in high school, my last chance for people to learn that I could sing, at this point I had more confidence, I knew I could sing if someone would give me a chance. I sang God Help the Outcast. What a perfect choice. I didn't actually think I would make it, I had nothing in my past to make me think it would happen, but I remember that day walking into the cafeteria and Meg Damron running up to me to tell me I made it. The list wasn't posted yet, but she was there when they chose the people who made it, and I made the list. I couldn't believe it and I was automatically nervous.
I didn't have anything extraordinary to set me apart. I did not stand out. I think people knew who I was, but how do you not after 6 years of school together. I was incredibly self-conscious and this could either be really good for me, or destroy me all together.
The day of the performance came. I don't remember much else from the show, but I remember what I was wearing, I remember my sister doing my make-up, I remember doing my hair, I remember picking out the clothes I would wear. Everything that morning had to do with the fact that I was about to stand in front of about 2500 people and sing. My first real performance.
I remember standing back stage as Terry Sachs did stand up comedy for his talent. I remember the SBO's sitting on a couch announcing who would be next as part of the skit. I remember them saying I sang like an angel and wanting to throw up. They called my name and I walked out on the stage. The lights were blinding, but I could see my sister and parents in the front row with my voice teacher. I remember the red light of the video camera my sister was holding. I remember hearing my friend Nick Pyles screaming "Julia you're my hero" and I remember hearing the music start.
I started to sing, and it went silent.
I felt good, I was singing well. All I could think was, "Please don't swallow mid word" I couldn't get a big enough breath, I could feel my knees shaking. I finish the song, "... The poor and unlucky, the weak and the odd. I thought we all were, the children of God." Silence, for what seemed like forever. Then screaming. Deafening applause. The lights dim and I look out at the crowd I see the bewilderment of the crowd, the shock on their faces as they rise to their feet shouting... for me. Before I know it I am standing in front of a full house of my peers giving me a standing ovation. If I wasn't so completely in shock and so so nervous I would have been sobbing. Even thinking of it now I am overwhelmed at how that felt. My sister was crying, my parents were crying. For what seemed like the first time, I was seen. That was the moment I decided I needed to be a singer. I knew I had to do that for the rest of my life.
No performance since then has matched how that one felt. I have sang to bigger crowds I have sang better, but that is what I think I will always look back on as the best show I have ever been a part of. I will never forget the little details of that day. I'll never forget the kids coming up to me in the hall and telling me they had no idea I could sing. I'll never forget what it felt like to be seen, for the first time, to have people know who I was. It's been almost 10 years since that happened and I will never forget the tiny details of that day.
Whatever happens in my music career, it will always be due to that performance. My defining moment.

Music Therapy/Song Ammo

I have to say, there is something about writing songs that is so therapeutic. I love writing songs and I feel like the songs that I have been writing with my friend Jaycie, are pretty dang good, and have been really well received.
One issue I have is that a lot of my songs are being compared to Taylor Swift. It makes sense, we write really similarly. We both tend to write about dudes. Making fun of them, pining after them, wanting to be in love with them, what have you. I guess I shouldn't complain, she is incredibly popular and is making lots of money, so bring it on. I just hope the people that compare me to her actually like her and her music.
Anyway I digress.
Being in my late 20's and being single makes for a lot of dating stories, (as if that isn't painfully obvious in this blog) I am a girl who needs to talk about things. Needs to tell stories and needs to write things out. I write in a journal on a regular basis, I also write in a notebook, mainly things that I don't need to be read by anyone else and don't necessarily want to remember, I write the blog, and now I write songs.
I think songwriting is the most therapeutic, and I think it's because I can turn what was a painful situation into a joke. I can take something that broke my heart and turn it into a beautiful melody. I can send my questions out into the world without having to actually put myself out there. And I've learned that people relate to me and what I've gone through, I sing my songs and people tell me they've been there, they understand. Not only that but it's amazing to learn that MY songs help other people get through their own heartaches.
On a less serious note, I think one of my favorite parts of songwriting is the "song ammo" part. I get mistreated by a guy and I turn the situation into a song that calls him out on his crap. I have a few songs like that, and I daresay they are my favorite.
I just wrote one recently called Prince Charming. Basically it talks about how much I hate charmers. I hate the guys that tell you what they think you want to hear, instead of what they actually feel. The guys that are SO FREAKING OVER THE TOP with their compliments and everything just to get out of you what they want and then leave you in the dust wondering what in the world just happened. I am a confident girl, but I know I'm not the most beautiful girl that any guy has ever seen, I know I am not the perfect girl, so don't tell me that, I don't believe it, therefore it's not really a compliment.
Anyway I was pretty frustrated about that until I wrote this song. I wrote it, and it makes me laugh and I love to sing it, and each time I do, I care less and less about the guy/guys it's about.
I did date a guy once who knew I wrote music and a blog about dating, and he asked that he never be turned into a song. That is a valid request, and I haven't turned him into a song, but I can't promise that to all guys. So all I ask is guys, if you don't want a song to be written about you in a negative light, then don't be jerks. :)
Until next time... Adieu!

Flashback Friday

I am the youngest of 5 children. 3 older brothers and an older sister, in that order. There is 7.5 years from oldest to youngest so we are all pretty close. (Though that wasn't always the case)
I love having three older brothers, but one thing I have learned about being a baby sister is that brothers are creative. They think up ways to torture their siblings that, I'm almost certain, sisters wouldn't think of.
When I was young both of my parents worked and my oldest brother Justin was left in charge a lot. The brother who would grab my toes and pull on them until they popped. The brother who would flick the bottom of my feet so hard that to this day leaving my feet exposed is a bit of a fear. The brother who would pin our (mine and Jennie's) arms with one hand and tickle us with the other to the point that if he would even go near Jennie and pretend that he was going to do that she would burst into tears, and I'm pretty sure that is why she is claustrophobic to this day. Yes that brother was who was left in charge. Smart thinking folks.
One winter day Justin came up with a plan, a challenge among the siblings. The challenge was you were supposed to run around the front yard as fast as you could, run around the van, and then run into the backyard. Passing through the gate was the finish line. We were to go oldest to youngest, and Justin was going to time us.
Side note- We used to have a jungle jim in our back yard with a big, wide, white slide. We had taken the jungle jim apart and kept the pieces of it under the deck. -End Side note.
I waited my turn patiently as my older siblings took their turns racing. I had my plan all worked out, and I was going to win. I see Jennie disappear beyond the gate and I wait for them to tell me to go. As soon as they say, I run as fast as my little legs can carry me, I'm sure I'm making good time. I am nearing the finish line so I take all the energy I can muster to BOOK IT into the backyard. As soon as my foot crosses the finish line I somehow lose all control of my body. My legs go FLYING forward and I go hurling onto my back. Completely disoriented I look into the loving faces of all four of my older siblings just LAUGHING hysterically.
Little did I know, Justin had taken the remains of the big, wide, white slide and placed it on the ground right beyond the fence and covered it in snow making it invisible and deathly slippery.
At least all of my siblings had at least one person they got to watch endure the agony after they did. Not me. I just got laughed at. Justin was the real victor, got to watch all four of his younger siblings slip and fall in I'm sure was a glorious fashion, if they looked anything like I did. Ah the joys of being an older sibling.

'Nother most embarrassing moment.

Ok so clearly this blog is written proof that my life is full of one embarrassing moment after another. This entry will satisfy that as well as go back to my "roots" in telling a dating story.
Last night (yes that recent) I went on a date. Twas a good date I had a really good time. Dinner at Texas Roadhouse (my favorite place) then watched a movie. We really got along and hit it off pretty quickly. It was a really good night... considering!
There we were at dinner. I was eating a salad and Dude was patiently waiting for his meal. I had just taken a bite of salad and he asked me a question. I hurriedly swallow my food in preparation to speak. I go to open my mouth and my brain says to me, "Julia, take note, you are not ready to speak yet. Control what is happening in your mouth before you say anything." I think to myself, "Pssh!" and go on to answer the question. I open my mouth and drool goes ahead and dribbles down my face. Yes he was looking. HOW DO YOU RECOVER FROM THAT??? I just immediately go bright red and cover my face as I wipe the slobber from my chin. I started laughing so hard as I say to him, "I promise I don't regularly drool in normal adult conversation." He just laughed and went ahead and told the couple that we were doubling with.
Later on in the evening if I would think about it I would just start laughing and go bright red all over again. He said, "Wow, I've never had a girl literally drool over me before".
This is not a story that will easily die. This is not a story that will be forgotten by either party, whether or not we date for a long time this story will be told and retold, and I know for 100% certainty that if we were to wed, that story will probably be told at the wedding. Best part is, my life is full of stories like this.

Starcrossed

Ok so this story is too crazy not to share, and it drives me crazy.
On Saturday I went to lunch with some girlfriends. We met at Subway (one I've never been to before) I wasn't eating I just wanted to get together with them so I was just meeting them there to chat.
I was sitting there hearing tales of the jungle from my best friend Lauren (who just did a two week backpacking trip in Indonesia and was telling me all about it, and I will tell you this now, I will NEVER EVER do that). We were sitting at a table waiting for our friend Jami to show up. While waiting this guy walks in who I immediately whip around to lip to Lauren, "WOW he is CUTE!!!" She, wide-eyed, just nodded in agreement (she's married, it wouldn't be appropriate to do much more, she was in full support of my staring at him).
So we sat there waiting for Jami, and he was ordering his sandwich while I just stared. Jami arrived and I couldn't take it anymore, so we all got up to order our food. As mentioned before, I wasn't eating anything so I just got in line with them. As we got in line Lauren says, "I'm not even going to talk to you" and started talking to Jami, leaving me in line to fend for myself, I didn't dare say anything so I just sat there in silence until I heard Lauren get to a point in her story about biffing it skiing where she said, "I got up just hoping someone would be laughing." I said, "Oh I totally would have laughed." Sterling (which the girls and I named him later) turns to me and says, "That's what friends are for right?" I said, (with a large smile and slight giddy tone) "Oh I'm totally that friend." As he went back to paying for his food. I turn to Lauren and whisper, "It is in this moment that I wish I were bold enough to say, 'I don't want to sound like a brazen hussy or anything, but do you have a girlfriend?'" (A line which Lauren used once before with much success) Her eyes got wide and serious and tight lipped she said to me, "DO! IT!" I giggled like a school girl and said, all squeaky like "I can't".
I thought for the next several seconds as he paid for his food and walked out the door, "Just talk to him, just invite him to sit with you guys, give him your number DO SOMETHING!!!" He walked out the door and I walked to our table which was right by the door. I tell Lauren I blew it and I turn around to look back at him and notice he was turned around looking at me. We both whipped around and Lauren yells "He TOTALLY just turned around to look at you!!!" I look back again, and AGAIN he was looking back at me, from that moment on I didn't stop looking at him, and was sending some serious telepathic messages to COME BACK!!! He walked to his car and again looked at me. I could see him standing at his car, and I swear I could HEAR him thinking, "Just go back, would I look stupid, what would I say?" He looks at me over his car and then sits down. He is in his car for a while before he turns it on, and then as he drives past we again look at each other. Then he was gone. The store was in a panic. I hear Lauren yell to the poor employee, "IS THAT GUY A REGULAR? WHO IS HE? WHAT'S HIS NAME???" the kid gave us little info, but some. He did know the guy a bit but not his name. I spent the rest of the lunch thinking of the movie Serendipity, and how mad I was that I didn't say anything. That I'd never see him again and he most likely is my eternal companion and I blew it. Granted he is the dude and should have COME BACK, but I wish I would have said something. The rest of the day, every red SUV I saw I would see if it was him.
Subway guy... randomly run into me again and lets wed immediately.

McDonald's uniform and a bicycle...

Yes, yet another story from my life as a McDonald's employee.
As mentioned before the commute to work was about a 30 minute walk. During my employ there my roommate got a bike and would let me take it to the office once in a while.
When I rode the bike I took a different route because Kam Highway doesn't offer much in the way of bike lanes. This new route included a jaunt passed this guy's house who I had a rather large crush on. We called him Red.
One day I was riding the bike home with the visor around my wrist and the handle bar, because I refused to wear it outside of the office. Ok I'm going to draw you a little mental picture, I have never told this story without actually drawing it out so I don't know how this is going to work, but humor me. Ok in Red's driveway the corner where the driveway meets the sidewalk, the grass was not level with this corner, it was about 4 or 5 inches down.
So I'm minding my own business riding the bike home and I approach Red's house. He has a big giant window in the front of the house and as I'm approaching I could see that he was in the living room right by the window watching TV. I ride the bike off the road to get onto the sidewalk in front of his house. Well I took the turn a little too short and my tire went right onto the grass in that little corner I "drew up" before, effectively wedging my tire in that corner, making me come to an abrupt stop gutting me a little bit with the handle bars. Then before I have the chance to step off the bike it just falls, with me on it. Ride, wedge, abrupt painful halt, slow fall to the ground trying frantically to get my feet and hands loose to save myself to no avail as my hand is now attached to the handlebar by the dang visor, chubby girl... McDonald's uniform, guy I have a crush on standing in the window watching. Pretty much summarizes my misery. I get up COMPLETELY humiliated and act as though I don't know he's looking through the window, pick up the bike, and walk it out of sight.
I get home and Bree is just waiting there to hear what happened in my cursed uniform today. She laughed, RILL hard. Red never mentioned it, which I appreciate an embarrassing fall like that, you don't want to be acknowledged, so thankfully he and I both acted as though it never happened.
I think it's important that you know I worked at McDonald's for a total of 3 weeks, all these stories, and the many more that I have all happened in 3 WEEKS!!! I'm telling you that aloha golden arches shirt was cursed.

6th Grade Acrobatics

This story is one that brings much humor, and much embarrassment added with much empathy pain.
When I was in 6th grade my best friend was Melissa-Ann. Nearly every day at recess we would go and play on the monkey bars. At Granite Elementary our playground had these monkey bars that were like a big upside down U. They weren't as tall as the regular monkey bars, they were probably like 8 feet high.
One fateful day Melissa-Ann and I were playing on said monkey bars and I decided to hang from my knees like any normal child would do. As I was hanging Melissa-Ann decided that would be a good time to go ahead and tickle my knee. If you know me, you know that my knees are probably the most ticklish part of my body, and nearly any contact with them will cause me to flail. She tickled, I flailed and the next thing I know I am hanging from one leg.
Unable to regain any kind of control I start screaming, fearing for my life. I look down to see the rocky rubble beneath me which is sure to be a welcomed landing mat for my face. I look up at Melissa-Ann and scream for her to grab my hand and help me up. That was the moment she thought would be a good time to go ahead and tickle my other knee. To this day I don't understand what she was thinking. I can only assume her body had been taken over in that moment and was destined to destroy me. The rest actually happened in slow motion. I, of course, flail yet again which sends me off the monkey bars. I hit the ground with my chest and chin as my legs come up behind me and my feet hit the ground in front of my face. I SAW my feet hit the ground in front of me as my body was completely bent in a circle, in no sort of direction a body should ever bend. Once my feet hit the ground, like a spring my body flips back into a normal position and I am now laying on my stomach in the rocks. I get up to my knees with no ounce of air left in my body. I try and try to take a breath but am unable to for what seems like several minutes but was probably a few seconds. The next thing I knew I was waking up with classmates and a teacher standing above me. Now that I think about it, I don't remember seeing Melissa-Ann in that crowd.
I, with the assistance of a couple of friends, walk to the nurses office, where my neighbor was called to come and pick me up, and I spent the rest of the school day at her house. When my parents got home from work I went back home and got right in bed, as my back was in total distress. Pretty sure I didn't walk normally for a few days, and pretty sure after that mine and Melissa-Ann's friendship was never the same. In fact, I haven't seen her in about 15 years. Good riddance eh?

King Kamehameha

If anyone has ever lived on or been to Oahu before this name should ring some sort of bell. Kam highway (short for Kamehameha) is the main highway on the island and goes all the way around.
When I lived in Hawaii this was the highway I took on my 30 minute walk to McDonald's, my place of employ. Imagine if you will, a rather robust girl walking along the main highway, wearing her golden arches aloha shirt, holding a visor (I didn't wear it unless I was in the building... didn't want it to be too obvious where I worked [as if the golden arches on my sleeve weren't enough]) That image in and of itself is enough to make anyone tilt there head and tisk in sorrow.
One day while I was at work, Oahu decided to have one of the worst rain storms they had seen in years and years. Portions of the highway were completely flooded and destroyed. It was bad. Remember that picture in your head of the girl, now picture that, but walking in HORRIBLE rain. Yes, that was me. I was that sad image.
I was walking home from work, drenched from head to toe, soaked to the very bone. A bus driving by, seeing this image, pulled over. The driver turns to me and says, "Can I give you a ride home?" Honestly I was embarrassed to even be acknowledged so I said, "No, I'm fine." "Are you sure?" he replied giving me a look like I was crazy. I just looked at him and said, "Really, I'm only like 10 minutes away, I'm fine to walk, I don't want to get the bus all wet just for a short ride." He says again, "Are you sure? It's free." At this point I just wanted to be left alone in my misery, I didn't want any more attention so I said (with a little bit of attitude), "I'm FINE, really, I've already been walking for 20 minutes in this rain, I can walk the rest of the way, I'm not going to get any wetter." It was in that exact moment that I tripped and face planted into a puddle. Seriously. I stood up with little to no pride left in my person. I, begrudgingly, look over at the bus driver who then says, "You sure?" I just looked ahead, kept walking and said, "Just go."
Remember that image of the girl, now picture her walking in the rain with her entire front covered in mud. Yes, I was that image.

I have stories to tell

Ok so as my dating life is somewhat in shambles these days, perhaps it's time to turn this into a regular blog. (Don't stop reading) I have funny stories from my life, they may not all be about dating, but I can't thing of anything funny to talk about in dating anymore, so now it's time for all to hear the joke that is my life.
The idea for this is my friend Jessi is doing "Flashback Friday" on her blog and posting a memory each Friday, I choose to follow suit.
This first story is one that if you know me personally you have probably heard. It's probably the best story I have in my repertoire so why not start with the best and have the rest be downhill from here. I like that plan!
Ok so roughly 7 years ago I lived in Hawaii with my best friend Bree. I was 19 when we moved there, and didn't have a job, wasn't going to school and had no money, but hey I lived on the beach so who cared right? After about a month of being there I decided I should probably make some money. The only place that would hire me, not being a student (so I couldn't work on campus) and only living there for 4 months (with one month down already)was the good old Golden Arches... That's right I am a former McDonald's employee.
I hated that job just as soon as I started it. I hated the stupid aloha shirt with the golden arches on the sleeve, I hated the stupid visor that I had to wear. Bree loved it. I had to be to work at 7:30 in the morning and Bree would wake up those mornings with just enough time to see me put the visor on, because as soon as I did my whole demeanor would change.
Well in my loathing for the job, I always had a bad attitude at work. My boss one day asked me if I would refill the hot fudge for the hot fudge sundaes. I went into the back as I passed Natalie, a girl who was from like Colorado or something but decided she had a super strong Island accent, which for some reason meant she couldn't say her H's or the first part of my name. She always called me Lia! "Ey, Lia... trow me an ashbrown." (That is a line I would hear numerous times a day when people would order hashbrowns, I wanted to do much more than "trow" one to her!) As I passed her holding the Hot fudge she goes, "Oh Lia, you found it, I couldn't find it anywhere." I just rolled my eyes as I said, "It was right on the cabinet where it always is." I went and refilled the hot fudge and went about my business.
About 20 minutes later and roughly 6 or 7 sold Sundaes my boss says, "Julia did you refill the hot fudge" I, thinking she's giving me attitude, say, "Yeah... like 20 minutes ago!" She looked at me, with a hint of a smirk on her face. Looked at the hot fudge dispencer, and back at me and says, "This is teriyake sauce."
That's right folks, those 6 or 7 hot fudge sundaes that were sold since I refilled it, were in fact teriyake sundaes. Let me just tell you now, I did not skimp on the hot fudge. I was generous with it. I want you to imagine if you will, getting a delicious sundae, you are so excited to eat it, you get just the right ice cream to hot fudge ratio, you delicately place the spoon in your mouth, and have to spend the next several seconds holding it in your mouth as you are thinking, "What are these flavors I'm tasting? What is this atrocity I have placed on my tongue? Dare I swallow?"
At that moment I remember the poor lady who came back, the single person who came to complain. She says, "Your hot fudge sundaes taste terrible." I, hating my job and everyone who would come in contact with me while at said job replied, "Sorry..." and offer no help.
In the McDonald's in Laie there is a glass wall with doors separating the sitting area from where you order. I had just barely sold one to a gentleman who was just beyond the doors. Within seconds of my boss informing me of my tragic mistake I look over at him, as (I swear to you time slowed down) he inspects his sundae, (he didn't hear her tell me what I'd done) he looks at it, and then at me. I sheepishly look down as I beckon him to come back in. He walks in and just says, "What. Is. This?" Not being able to meet his gaze I say, "Can I get you something else? A strawberry sundae perhaps???" all he says again is, "What! IS! THIS?" I look down (probably tracing the ground with my toes, hands behind my back like a child) and say, "It's teriyake sauce..." He didn't want anything else from me.
Later that day, hours later, and old man comes in and orders a senior coffee. I go to get it for him as he says, "You can hold the teriyake sauce." Apparently word had spread...

My Sister

I have been thinking about this post for a while, it's not dating related, so if that is all you read this for, deal with it.
I am the youngest of 5 children. I have three older brothers and an older sister, in that order. I love having three big brothers and I LOVE having a sister that is close to me in age.
When Jennie and I were little everyone thought we were twins, that may have something to do with the fact that my mom always dressed us alike and that Jennie has always been tiny and I have always been, well, bigger than her. We were always in little singing groups and dance groups as little girls. Jennie was always more coordinated than I was, especially at gymnastics. We started at the same time but by the time I quit because I sucked and hated it, I was in level two and I think she was in level 6. Jennie was always naturally better at everything, and I always wanted to be just like her.
Jennie and I have a strange relationship, we are very close and have this way of turning weird when we are together, we laugh about the dumbest things, but we laugh hard. I remember her telling me that when she and her husband Brock were dating he told her at one point, "You're different when you're with Julia, you get weird." I have to admit, that made me proud, and though since she has been married we don't have that opportunity as much I have noticed when we do get together that weirdness comes out. We find ourselves laughing at funny pronunciations of words and lisps and from time to time other people. I remember one day sitting in the kitchen in our parents house, my mom was on the phone planning out the program for her ward calling, my mom calls it a "progrum" and when she was on that phone call every time she would say it Jennie and I would look at each other and say, "progrum" and then laugh, I'm not kidding it probably happened like ten times then all of the sudden my mom said, "AM I saying it WRONG?" and we just bust up laughing so hard. Same thing when my dad would say things like "Sundee, or Fridee" Jennie just turns to me and said,"I don't think he knows there are A's in those words."
Though, I will admit, it was hard at times growing up with a sister as beautiful as her, I was always so proud to call her my sister. Proud to be "Little Sanders". It was easily done when I had a sister who loved me so much. All she ever cared about was that I was happy. If I was happy she was happy. She was protective of me all growing up and even though she was tiny she always had my back.
She has always been so supportive of me, she is the reason I started taking singing lessons in the first place and since I have been pursuing a career in that field she has always been my biggest fan, comes to every game I sing the anthem for, comes to as many shows she can, and I always appreciate it so much.
She was always willing to listen to my dating drama, and drama it was and is. Though it seems I went through the same situation time after time she would always give me advice and talk me through the situation and help me see that it was always the dang dudes that made things hard, I was just the victim ;). She helps me maintain some sort of control when I start to freak out when I date a guy, as I always do. She supports me in being annoyed with them and gets annoyed with me, and then will be so happy for me if things are going well. Even if I go back and forth with a guy, she will do the same thing, just always supports me, when I know her main concern is that I end up with a guy who makes me happy and sees what she has always seen in me.
I think the thing that sticks out the most is how beautiful she always made me feel. She always saw something in me that no one else did. When I started to lose weight I don't even think she noticed that I was getting thinner she just noticed that I was getting happier and that is what made her happy.
I have always held her on a pedestal and if anyone ever says anything about us acting alike or looking alike secretly (maybe not so secretly) it makes me so happy because that is what I have been working toward my whole life, to be more like Jennie. I loved that just like when we were little sometimes people think we are twins, I can think of no greater compliment. I love when people say, "Oh I can totally tell you are sisters" or "that must be your sister you look just like each other" again I take that as a huge compliment.
So to Jennie, here's to, "Garbeej, Foleej, Sauseej..." Here's to "Doorknobs!" Here's to, "Theeya Thuckerth" here's to pedicures, and Sweet Tomatoes, here's to Hawaii when Nix was 7 weeks old, here's to you making me pass out TWICE and laughing as I was convulsing, here's to you backing into my car and pulling your bumper off, here's to sharing a bed even when we didn't share a room, here's to Malaysia and all the good times we are bound to have there, and here's to the years of stories we have in front of us. I love you!