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.