i married him for his handiness

So a really funny thing happened this morning.

We rolled out of bed about half an hour later than we should have (call me lazy but I just really don't think alarm clocks should work before seven) So we were hustling a little bit to get to class on time. I decided to run out to start my car to get it to defrost a little bit (this cold weather is killing me man! I just feel so unprepared for the freezing-ness).

So I'm running to the door in  my usual start-the-car-in-the-morning attire (my tight, tight, unattractive leggings I wear under my dress pants, a shade shirt, and boots. Kolton shakes his head at me every time I leave the house in this outift. He's slightly embarrassed of/for me.)

I reach the door, try to twist the doorknob and.....

Nothin.

So I try again.

and again.

and again.

and again.

Nothin.

The doorknob will not budge. There's no twisting action or anything going on here.

So I try to mess with the unlock device.

Still nothing.

So I did the only thing I could think to do.

Cried.

Just kidding! I politely asked Kolton if he could come see what the heck was going on with the door.

So Kolton walked to the door, tried to twist the doorknob and experienced the same confusion I had. (see above situation for all the details)

After a little pushing and shoving and unnecessary roughness toward the door and more futile twisting on the doorknob, we just looked at each other. 

And looked at the door.

And looked back at each other. 

Then we decided that we may as well enjoy our prison sentence, jumped back into bed, and watched movies the rest of the day. 

Not really.

But I considered it for about half a second. 

Instead Kolton pulled out his handy dandy drill and went to town taking off the doorknob. After a little more finagling with the inner workings of the doorknob-I was obviously no help with this; I decided it would be a better use of my time to put on some actual clothes just in case Kolton's finagling actually worked. 

Unfortunately, he is a very good finagler, the door was working in no time, and we had to go to school.

Bummer dude.

But it was still a nice adventure to begin the day with.

in which we watch westerns and start rumors

I came home not very many weekends later. My friends was leaving on his mission and I was planning on going to his farewell. I also had other reasons for returning to Monteview... As we went through the line, Bruce Smith asked Kolton if there was a reason why Kolton and I were there together. I let him answer that question on his own and conveniently snuck away.

We also ran into my piano teacher, Yvonne, who talked to me all about the dates I had been going on (with boys from Provo) until she saw Kolton behind me. Then she pursed her lips and looked at me with a smile before trying to backtrack. (I secretly got a big kick out of this. Mostly because I don't know where she was getting all her information, but also because it was a pretty awkward situation with us still not exactly knowing what we were doing) 

Later that night we watched Maverick which is one of our favorite shows now. And talked and talked and talked some more until we heard my mother's croaky voice from the top of the stairs.

"Jayc.....do you know what time it is?"

huh-uh.

"You might wanna find out"

Kolton and I looked at each other.

He was mortified.

I was cracking up.

We went upstairs and saw that it was three o'clock in the morning!

So I shooed him home and told him I'd see him tomorrow.

The next night, Kolton picked me up and we headed to his grandparents to pick up his siblings. We walked in and saw that his grandparents had company. A lot of company. A lot of company that was made up of Kolton's aunts who were all sorts of curious about the girl he had with him.

After we escaped that attack with Kolton again mortified and me cracking up, we headed back to his parents house where Kolton made me his specialty dinner-oriental chicken (later to be the dinner we ate by candlelight the night we got engaged). After we finished that deliciousness, we decided to put in another movie, "The Cowboys" which I had never seen before. I know, I know. But it was good! Especially because we were all cuddled up with each other. And it didn't feel weird or awkward-just nice.

Well, nice until his dad came down and caught us all cuddled up. (this time I might have been a little mortified)

When Kolton dropped me off at my house, my mother had so cleverly hung a sign on the door that read "BYU Approved Housing" (meaning curfew is at midnight)

She thinks she's hilarious.

On Sunday, Leroy gave his talk, and did an awesome job, but the best part might have been being the last ones in the Sunday school class, sitting on the front row, and having Kolton put his arm around me while we shared scriptures-again! Because I had conveniently forgot mine-again! And having a million people attack our parents with questions about what exactly was going on with the two of us.

Our parents didn't know much more than we did, so I don't know how those conversations went.

But then all too soon the time came for me to leave. (I quickly came to dread 4:00 on a Sunday because it was time to make the four hour drive back to Provo)

We said our goodbyes, and neither of us really knew what was going to happen between then and til I could head up north again. (I'll give you a hint: good stuff)

christmas break part 6

So after Kolton had spent the night (on the couch of course) and we had spent the morning together, it was time to go home. As we were driving and talking, just the two of us, I came to the realization that we had spent nearly every day all day with each other that entire week. I had seen him every day and chatted with him every day and we still hadn't run out of things to talk about.

Whoa.

That made me happy.

But the Christmas Break was over and I still didn't really know what to make of all the happenings. I still didn't exactly know what was going on here.

So he dropped me off and I headed back to Provo, and back to my almost-boyfriend, with no clue what I was going to do.

I picked up my roommate Heather and on the long drive shared with her the whole story of my Christmas break (all 6 parts!) and she was just as confused as I was.

Over the next few days I battled my confusion, came to a mutual understanding/agreement to end things with the almost boyfriend (aren't those mutual feeling kind of breakups the best?!), and of course, talked to Kolton.

And that was the beginning of a whole new kind of relationship that wasn't actually that new to me...

The long distance relationship.

I had been around this block before and knew that even though it was exciting and fun to talk via phone, nothing beats seeing each other in person, and long distance relationships rarely, if ever, work out.

The odds weren't exactly in our favor.

Especially if you consider that we really didn't actually know each other that well beyond a week of Christmas break and that Kolton was heading up to school and a social life, while I was 350 miles away at my own school with my own social life.

I really didn't know what was going to happen and I knew that he was just as confused about this as I was, but I decided to just let the chips fall where they may and see where that got us. 

So that's what we did.

here we go again....

Remember in our last ward? When we had to teach our first Sunday School lesson?

(How could you forget that overload of too much information, right?)

Well, guess what our new calling in the ward is?!

You guessed it-Gospel Doctrine teachers again. (actually we've had this calling for a few months, I'm just catching up)

But thankfully it has been exponentially better than that first time. There's three other teachers so we don't have to teach as often and I am decidedly less nervous...and sweaty. Which is awesome.

We actually had to teach yesterday and it was one lesson that I felt like just went really well.

We didn't prepare our lesson until Saturday night (of course) but when we got up Sunday morning and quickly went through it again, it just really clicked and we got some good ideas that really worked well.

The lesson was titled "God is Love" and was all about how Heavenly Father shows his love for us, how Christ shows his love for us, and how we show our love for them.

We split up the lesson so I taught that part about Heavenly Father's love for us and Kolton taught the other two parts (lucky, I know).

We started off talking about how Heavenly Father allows us to repent and be baptized and communicates with us through prayer and has given us the gift of the Spirit to guide us, and how all these things are ways that he shows His love for us.

So on Sunday morning while previewing the lesson, I remembered this talk by Hugh B. Brown called "God is the Gardner" that Kolton and I had listened to a long time ago. I thought that this talk would be good to listen to and would be a much-needed break for the class members from my nonsensical ramblings. As I was planning around this talk I thought it would be great to talk about how Heavenly Father really does direct our lives, which is another way he shows His love for us.

So we went to church and got in the room to teach the lesson. I did ramble incessantly and we did listen to the talk as we had planned. I've included the text because it's just that good. Definitely not a good as hearing the actual talk, but the text will do. It's a little long, but definitely worth the read.

I was living up in Canada. I had purchased a farm. It was run-down. I went out one morning and saw a currant bush. It had grown up over six feet high. It was going all to wood. There were no blossoms and no currants. I was raised on a fruit farm in Salt Lake before we went to Canada, and I knew what ought to happen to that currant bush. So I got some pruning shears and went after it, and I cut it down, and pruned it, and clipped it back until there was nothing left but a little clump of stumps. It was just coming daylight, and I thought I saw on top of each of these little stumps what appeared to be a tear, and I thought the currant bush was crying. I was kind of simpleminded (and I haven’t entirely gotten over it), and I looked at it, and smiled, and said, “What are you crying about?” You know, I thought I heard that currant bush talk. And I thought I heard it say this: “How could you do this to me? I was making such wonderful growth. I was almost as big as the shade tree and the fruit tree that are inside the fence, and now you have cut me down. Every plant in the garden will look down on me, because I didn’t make what I should have made. How could you do this to me? I thought you were the gardener here.” That’s what I thought I heard the currant bush say, and I thought it so much that I answered. I said, “Look, little currant bush, I am the gardener here, and I know what I want you to be. I didn’t intend you to be a fruit tree or a shade tree. I want you to be a currant bush, and some day, little currant bush, when you are laden with fruit, you are going to say, ‘Thank you, Mr. Gardener, for loving me enough to cut me down, for caring enough about me to hurt me. Thank you, Mr. Gardener.’ ”

Time passed. Years passed, and I found myself in England. I was in command of a cavalry unit in the Canadian Army. I had made rather rapid progress as far as promotions are concerned, and I held the rank of field officer in the British Canadian Army. And I was proud of my position. And there was an opportunity for me to become a general. I had taken all the examinations. I had the seniority. There was just one man between me and that which for ten years I had hoped to get, the office of general in the British Army. I swelled up with pride. And this one man became a casualty, and I received a telegram from London. It said: “Be in my office tomorrow morning at 10:00,” signed by General Turner in charge of all Canadian forces. I called in my valet, my personal servant. I told him to polish my buttons, to brush my hat and my boots, and to make me look like a general because that is what I was going to be. He did the best he could with what he had to work on, and I went up to London. I walked smartly into the office of the General, and I saluted him smartly, and he gave me the same kind of a salute a senior officer usually gives—a sort of “Get out of the way, worm!” He said, “Sit down, Brown.” Then he said, “I’m sorry I cannot make the appointment. You are entitled to it. You have passed all the examinations. You have the seniority. You’ve been a good officer, but I can’t make the appointment. You are to return to Canada and become a training officer and a transport officer. Someone else will be made a general.” That for which I had been hoping and praying for ten years suddenly slipped out of my fingers.

Then he went into the other room to answer the telephone, and I took a soldier’s privilege of looking on his desk. I saw my personal history sheet. Right across the bottom of it in bold, block-type letters was written, “THIS MAN IS A MORMON.” We were not very well liked in those days. When I saw that, I knew why I had not been appointed. I already held the highest rank of any Mormon in the British Army. He came back and said, “That’s all, Brown.” I saluted him again, but not quite as smartly. I saluted out of duty and went out. I got on the train and started back to my town, 120 miles away, with a broken heart, with bitterness in my soul. And every click of the wheels on the rails seemed to say, “You are a failure. You will be called a coward when you get home. You raised all those Mormon boys to join the army, then you sneak off home.” I knew what I was going to get, and when I got to my tent, I was so bitter that I threw my cap and my saddle brown belt on the cot. I clinched my fists and I shook them at heaven. I said, “How could you do this to me, God? I have done everything I could do to measure up. There is nothing that I could have done—that I should have done—that I haven’t done. How could you do this to me?” I was as bitter as gall.

And then I heard a voice, and I recognized the tone of this voice. It was my own voice, and the voice said, “I am the gardener here. I know what I want you to do.” The bitterness went out of my soul, and I fell on my knees by the cot to ask forgiveness for my ungratefulness and my bitterness. I arose from my knees a humble man. And now, almost fifty years later, I look up to him and say, “Thank you, Mr. Gardener, for cutting me down, for loving me enough to hurt me.” I see now that it was wise that I should not become a general at that time, because if I had I would have been senior officer of all western Canada, with a lifelong, handsome salary, a place to live, and a pension when I’m no good any longer, but I would have raised my six daughters and two sons in army barracks. They would no doubt have married out of the Church, and I think I would not have amounted to anything. I haven’t amounted to very much as it is, but I have done better than I would have done if the Lord had let me go the way I wanted to go.

It's good huh?

So towards the end of the talk, Kolton leaned over to me and asked if I wanted him to wrap up my section, including the talk, and get started on his sections (as if he wasn't already doing over his amount of work). But I looked over at him and said, "No, I think I'd better do it."

Because all during this talk little thoughts had been coming to me that were in a totally different direction than I had planned.

Just so you know, this has never happened to me before. But as I sat there I realized I could tie the principles in this talk to something even greater than I had planned, Something greater that really needed said.  It was like little storm clouds were gathering-the good kind-and pretty soon I had my concluding comments all laid out for me. I knew exactly what I needed to say.

So I stood up and talked about how it's easy to see our Heavenly Father's love for us when we think about how He answers our prayers, and allows us to repent, and gives us the Holy Ghost to guide us. But sometimes, and we don't really ever want to think about these times, He shows His love for us by sending us trials and hard things, and just really unpleasant stuff.

And sometimes we just want to ask (or sometimes we do ask) what in the world is the gardener thinking? How could he do this to me? I've done all He's asked of me, why is He making life so hard?

I definitely don't know the answers to those questions, but I do know that He ultimately knows what is best for us. He knows what we need ten trillion times better than we could ever know. He knows where we need to end up and how exactly we are going to get there.

It doesn't always make sense, most of the time it never does, but if we will just put our trust in Him, we can realize that it will all work out. Not today, not tomorrow, and probably not ever in our lifetime, but someday it will all make sense and we'll see what He had in mind for us all along and how He loved us enough to cut us down so we could reach our full potential.

After I'd finished saying all this, I sat down and was just drained. The room was so still and I knew that what I'd said was exactly what I'd needed to say. And then I realized how much help I'd gotten in saying my piece. There is no way I  could be that eloquent on my own. I had definitely been guided to say what I had, for I don't know what reason. Probably just to help myself.

It really was an experience that has never happened to me before and that I never want to forget.

I got in trouble.

The other day.

Because for the first time ever in his entire life, Kolton clicked onto my blog.

I don't know what inspired him to do it, I've had this baby for over a year, people occasionally comment on it-in person, I mean, and some special friends of ours even like to quote me when we get together (Yes Zach, I mean you.)

But dear Kolton had never really shown an interest until the other night. We were sitting around doing our own thing on our own internets when I glanced over and saw a familiar little screen.

And then I got kind of embarrassed. I've been able to share some stories because I know that they can be my own and no one will be able to correct me when I skew a few details (not that I ever do that...) and I can write (and exaggerate) pretty much whatever I want.

But I got over my embarrassment, there's no room for embarrassment in a marriage.

And I snuggled up to Kolton and together we read some of the "little journal of our life together".

And you know what?

I got a few chuckles, and even a couple hearty laughs from him. But then I may have gotten in a little bit of trouble for sharing "Our story" he said that it was too embarrassing to share, but I said that's tough luck partner because my favorite kind of stories to share are the embarrassing ones.

My proudest moment of the entire conversation was when Kolton acknowledged that maybe my blogging wasn't a complete waste of time. That maybe it was a good thing to keep track of where we've been and where we're headed.

So I guess I'll keep at it!

thanksgiving 1

I know that Thanksgiving was a week ago, but it is a holiday that really should ever end?

I think not.

Well, maybe the stuffing yourself needs to come to an end, but I would definitely be ungrateful if I didn't take this time to quickly count my many, many, many blessings.

-Kolton. (obviously) even though we are complete (and I mean complete) opposites, life has never been better. Sure we argue and disagree and sometimes need alone time, but I honestly can't imagine my life without him. Goll, I love that man.

-My families. I am definitely blessed (on both sides) to have amazing family. I love nothing better than sitting around a table and laughing till I cry with my family.

-My healthy, happy body. I've been thinking a lot lately about how lucky I am to be healthy. It seems so simple, and it's something that I take for granted every day but I am so grateful to have two arms and legs, ten fingers and toes, eyes, a nose, and ears to hear (this is starting to sound like a nursery rhyme.) a mouth for tasting and kissing, my hair (even when I want to either chop it all off or just pull it all out) and all those internal-ly organs that keep me going. it's so neat that everything works together so perfectly, and i'm so grateful that it does.

-And on a less serious note:

Things that smell good-especially when it's my house.

cookies

cake

candy

ice cream

my cozy bed

a home

blow-dryers, straighteners, curling irons

leave-in-conditioner

a hot shower

a car

my phone

inside jokes

surprises

to-do lists

And the list goes on.

I'm thankful for Thanksgiving too. Even if it's one holiday that I usually just skip over in anticipation for Christmas. I'm going to improve on that and remember the reason for this season.

This year for Thanksgiving we went down to St. George with the Newmans. We had a nice time stuffing ourselves by day and playing tennis and basketball by night. You can't beat that combination! 

what have we been up to?

1. We moved.

I know.

It was ridiculous.

And technically we downgraded.

So here's the deal....when we started looking for apartments, mid-Augustish, we didn't have much of a selection. (as you can probably imagine) We saw a lot of creepy basements and then saw some even creepier basements. (Seriously, I still shudder every time I think of it.) Finally, we were discouraged and driving around Rexburg when we pulled into a parking lot to think about our choices, and to try not to think about some of our choices. As we were discussing and shuddering, I looked up and said, "Hey hon, how about these ones?" and pointed to the pretty little buildings in the parking lot. We got a number and discovered there were some openings. 

Wonderful!

But they only had a 3 bedroom available. And I know we have enough junk to fill up a 3 bedroom, but we still didn't feel it was necessary. But we moved in and told the manager that if a 2 bedroom opened up, we would definitely be interested. 

Fast forward about two months and our manager called us and let us know there was a two bedroom opening up and that we could come look at it. I thought this was a dumb idea, but was willing to play along, so we trudged over there and......I didn't want to like it, I really didn't.

But I did.

So we moved!

And I feel the need to give a big shout-out to our buddies Allens, Pearsons, we couldn't have done it without you.

And I hate to drag out this first point some more, but I have one more little thing to mention...

We were planning on moving a little bit on Friday, but the bulk of the junk  stuff on Saturday. By some miracle, Kolton happened to look at the weather and discovered it was calling for snow on Saturday. So we called our buddies and they came over at the last minute to help us out. (Do we have awesome friends or what?) So after we finished moving every single thing out of our apartment, we decided to go our for some ice cream. While eating our ice cream, I looked out the window to see SNOW! holy cow-we were so lucky and right on time.  

2. School.

Enough said.

3. Okay, actually I just have a teeny little bit to talk about about school. I'm in a class right now where twice a week I go to an elementary school in the area and get to mess around with third graders for two hours. (Okay, actually it's not entirely messing around, we do actually do some work too.) It is the greatest class and I just really love it. There are millions of stories I could share about it, but Ii'll just share one for now.

I was reading with a group of three kids about a gorilla named Koko. Well of course, being third graders, (and I maybe might have thought of it too) every time we read Koko's name, someone would attach a "loco" to the end.

"Koko loco".

And I'm sorry, but it really was funny for some reason. I was trying to be mature and stuff, but I just couldn't help releasing a little giggle every time one of the kids said it.

Does that make me a bad teacher?

4. Bananagrams.

I LOVE this game.

Mostly because I always WIN this game.

And if you know me, you know that I NEVER win at ANY game.

This is monumental.

I don't know what it is, but when my brain gets a-going, I can think up the strangest words. Most of the time, I don't even know what they mean-but I can spell them.

for example:

We played a total of five games this weekend.

I won four of those games.

(It's killing Kolton)

5. We watched Tangled a twice in a row last week. I am completely in love with that movie. Every time the floating light/singing part comes on, I get a little teary eyed and wish and wish I could just see that in person.

But basically that's all that's been a-going on.

That, and every day I get more and more excited for Christmas. I'm putting a restraining order on the Christmas music.

I got it bad.

happy halloveen!

So for a catch-up of life lately and Halloveen (to be said with a Transylvanian accent) happenings-

We carved pumpkins with friends the other night. It has been a long time since I've done that and I forgot how bad I am at it! But it was still fun and Kolton and I ended up with matching pumpkins. 

betcha can't guess who's is whose. (actually, i bet you can if you know anything about how much patience I have for stuff like this...or anything, really)

And I discovered what a master pumpkin carver he is.

what a talent!

this is what i call my "scared kindergartner" look

the whole fancy, shmancy group

Kolton has also been playing on an intramural football team. I decided not to be lame anymore and finally took my camera to a game to capture the moment. I still ended up being lame because I got too busy talking and only took pictures before the game and during the time-outs. No action shots.

Next time honey!

 

and this one i took because i thought the sky was pretty...not because of the game. so lame!

They actually had a really awesome game (even though the pictures don't document any of it) and barely won in the final seconds. Kolton snagged a guy right before he scored the extra point and I was so proud. (Mostly because I knew he'd be mad at himself if he'd have missed him)

It's been fun watching the guys play, but even more fun visiting with the wives ...especially at the 10:15 pm games. (waaay past our bedtime)

We actually decided that the next game we might just stream from our laptops and watch (or not watch) and visit in the comfort of our very own homes and not on the freezing cold, hard ground.

Good idea, no?

the reason

I also don't know why I'm sharing this story especially since it's not humorous and not even my own personal experience.

I guess it's just something that I want to remember...

And it makes me just a little bit emotional.

So I am in love with all (okay, maybe not all) but most of my teacher education classes.I'm in an Early Field Experience class where I basically go to the elementary school in St. Anthony and spend two hours in a third grade classroom two days a week. But that's a whole 'nother story for another time. During the one day a week that my professor actually lectures to us is one of my most favorite parts of the week. She's just the sweetest lady ever and has some of the best stories to share about her experiences in the classroom. One of my favorites is the following:

So Sis. B. taught school in Philly for a couple years. It was a rough part of town and many of her students lived in single-parent homes that were less than functional. One such girl was named Jessica. She was in third grade and lived with her mom who was a bit of a druggie and neglectful. So Jessica, third grade Jessica, was responsible for getting her little kindergarten brother ready for school each morning, among other things. Jessica wasn't living in an ideal situation and had just been played a hard card in life. But she was a nice, sweet girl who did well in school despite her situation.

One day, Jessica was eating lunch in the lunchroom and accidentally spilled her carton of milk all over the table. The lunchlady wasn't very kind about the incident and probably came down harder on Jessica than she should have. Sis. B. saw the whole incident and Jessica crying afterward. 

So this sweet lady that is my professor went back to her classroom and filled one of those "big gulp" drinks you get from the gas station clear full of water. She rearranged her desk, dug some old papers out of the garbage, and spread them out over her desk with her big glass of water right in the middle of her desk. 

After the kids came in from recess, Sis B. was talking to them when she "accidentally" knocked over the glass of water. The water spilled all over the desk, soaking all the papers, dripping down the sides of the desk and onto the carpet.

The class went completely wide-eyed and silent. 

Sis B. looked at the mess she had made, shrugged her shoulders and said, "Oh well, we'll clean that mess up later. Let's head on down to p.e." 

So the kids packed up their stuff and with a few glances at the dripping desk, followed Sis B. to the gym to have a lesson from the p.e. teacher. As the students were filing into the gym, Sis. B. asked Jessica if she would please come back with her to the classroom and help her clean up the mess. 

Jessica agreed and they went back to the classroom. As they cleaned up the sopping mess of papers and such, Sis B. expressed to Jessica what a special little girl she was and how much she enjoyed having her in her classroom.

After the desk was cleaned up, life went on, and the other kids came back from p.e.

Fast forward two years.

Jessica was in fifth grade and Sis B. still taught third grade. One day, Jessica came to Sis B.'s classroom to chat with her. After visiting for a minute, Jessica looked Sis B. in the eye and said

"That day you spilled your water all over the table...you did that on purpose, didn't you?"

Sis B. confessed that she had indeed done it on purpose, and Jessica said to her

"One day I'm going to grow up and be a teacher just like  you."

Oh goodness, for some reason that story just gets me every time. I think mostly it just reminds me of why I want to be a teacher. I can have the chance to make children feel special every single day.

And I think that's just about the best reason ever.

the date which shall live in infamy

I don't know exactly what possessed me to do this but

I just have to share an awkward date story. (I think I've been reading a little too much of the Mormon in Manhattan blog and it has inspired me)

so cue: the date with Michael Scott.

It was one of the first weeks I was at BYU so I was still a little (a lot) boy crazy. He asked me out earlier that week and explained that we would be going to a dance with a live band that his friend played in.

I thought this sounded cultural and cool and was excited about it.

On a Friday night he picks me up and I'm rarin to go to this dance. Then he fills me in that we're actually going to a BYU soccer game and then we'll go to the dance.

Okay.

So we get to the soccer game and he runs into an old friend and starts chatting with her. This is okay, it's an old friend, I can understand. However, as we are walking to our seats, he's still chatting with this girl and I realize rather quickly that she is planning on sitting with us. This is a little bit weird, but it got exponentially more uncomfortable when he asked the girl for her number.

It was at this time that I turned my attention to the couple we were doubling with, Jenna and Marcus. We laughed and joked and had an awesome time at the game while my "date" sat next to me and told the girl sitting next to him how gorgeous she looked, how good it was to see her, how glad he was that she was sitting by him, etc. 

After the game was finally over, the other girl left, and my date decided I existed again. So we get in the car to head to the dance and he puts his arm around me and is the picture of lovely dovey  grossness.

He's also texting the entire time.

Finally he perks up and says "Hey! I've got another friend I need to pick up." He gave directions and we pulled up to a little house. He disappears and comes back out of the house with.....another girl.

What?

He introduces us to her and tells her to hop in. I was a little bit confused and not really knowing what was going on, but I played along and talked to the girl (she was actually quite lovely and I really liked her a lot).

When we finally get to the dance, the band is playing and they are actually really good.

After watching my date dance with the other girl and many other girls, I decide that this date is basically over. So I scout out some cute guys and go dance with them.

I could tell this didn't exactly please my date, but what the heck was I supposed to do? Just sit back and watch him shmooze with other girls?

I think not.

So we finally leave and decide to get some ice cream. By this time I had spent the whole evening mulling over his invitation from earlier in the week.

Had he actually said "Will you go on a date with me this weekend"? Did I misconstrue his meaning and were we actually just hanging out?

I didn't know.

But here's the kicker:

So we go to get ice cream and he asks what I want, orders for me, and pays for it!

The other girl had to pay for her own.

By this time I was ten kinds of confused, partied out, and ready to go home. As we walked back to my apartment he was relentless in attempting to convince me to hold his hand and give him a goodnight kiss (this was after we'd dropped the other chick off, obviously) 

I said, "Not on your life, partner."

There was no second date.

christmas break part 5

After building up all that courage, I was just plum wiped out.

I laid my head back on Kolton's chest and fell asleep.

I was woken up a short time later by Kolton rearranging himself.

I was a little bit confused when he explained that I needed to go to the bedroom to sleep and he was going to stay on the floor.

My sleep/kiss addled brain was not working properly so I insisted that he go into the bedroom, and I would stay right where I was on that cozy (not.) floor. He looked at me for a minute, realized I wasn't changing my mind, spread out a blanket on the floor for me, got me a pillow, and headed into the bedroom to sleep out the rest of the night in a decent bed.

When I woke up, more than a little bleary eyed and bushy tailed, I lay on my not-so-cozy makeshift bed and replayed the events of the previous night.

Did that....really...happen?

He's gonna come out of that bedroom any minute and what am I supposed to do? Hang all over him, ignore him (this is reverting back to my elementary mindset) What the heck am I supposed to say?

What now?

Do I sound like a giddy 16 year old to you?

Yeah, to me too.

But even though I was a little giddy (while brushing our teeth, I quickly whispered the story to Andra and we did a little celebratory dance right there in the bathroom) I was still nervous and unsure as all get out.

When he finally came out of the bedroom to help fix breakfast, I faked a confident smile and a "Good morning!"  to hide my 16 year old-ness.

I think it worked.

After breakfast, we cleaned up and headed out of there.

Kolton drove me to my cabin and I invited him in to meet the fam. After a little coaxing, he finally gave in. After chatting with my family for a bit and me answering my aunt's whispered questions with whispers and giggles of my own, my dad suggested we go for a snowmobile ride.

I talked Kolton into staying and going with us (it wasn't too hard, if you can imagine) because I was definitely not going to ride my own snowmobile. I am content to be a passenger.

We went for a nice little ride, Kolton only threw me off the back a couple times to which I just laughed and acted like I was "cool" with. (I'm not so "cool with it" anymore, just so you know)

One time in particular, I remember him throwing me off the back of the snowmobile, not even realizing I was no longer present, and continuing up the side of the mountain. When he did finally turn around and pull up alongside me, he motioned me with his arm and said, "Come on" like "What's your problem, get over here! We've got snowmobiling to do." to which I glared at him. A wasted glare, by the way since I had goggles on, and climbed back on.

When we finally made it back to the cabin, I was frozen and my goggles were all iced over. But I was happy because my arms  hadn't released their death grip from around Kolton's waist all day.

After warming up by the fire with some hot cocoa, I thought he was going home.

I really did.

But he stayed, and stayed, and stayed and I finally realized that he was in this for the long haul and was staying the night.

Yipee!

you know what i hate?

When I spend money on a book that I'm really excited about and then I start reading...and I'm not so excited anymore.

But to back up a little bit...I forgot to tell an exciting story.

When I was about thirteen years old, my room was a mess. like, all the time. Occasionally I would pay it some attention, and when I did, I was always rewarded for my efforts. Without fail, every time I would clean my room I would find loose change on the floor, on the dresser, on the desk, on my nightstand...pretty much everywhere.

It would just be a nickel or a dime, so nothing big, but then I had a vision.

And I walked into the storage room and grabbed a big ole mason jar, set it on my desk, and dropped that nickel in the jar.

For the next seven years (years!) every time I found any spare change I would toss it in my jar. Occasionally I even cleaned out my wallet (this was even more seldom than cleaning my room)  and would toss all the change in the jar, just so I could see some progress.

I determined early on that this money would go toward a "book fund" and that when I filled the jar all the way up to the tippy top, I could go shopping.

Fast forward seven years.

I'm married now, still don't clean my room, and have still contributed to my little jar. It's quite heavy now and kind of a pain to lug around.

So one day I'm sitting in our kitchen doing homework when Kolton lugs this jar out to the table and is just beginning the process of dumping the jar of coins onto the table when he notices the horrified expression on my face.

"What. are you doing. with my jar." I calmly asked him.

"Well, I thought we could the quarters for our laundry..." he says as he gives me a funny look.

At this point I start shaking my head.

"No. NO honey. That money is not for laundry." I then tell him the whole long boring story I just shared with you about how that money jar came to be. And of course I emphasize that whole seven years thing. "Seven years, honey. I've been saving that money for seven years."

He just shakes his head at me and returns the "book fund" to it's rightful place on our dresser and tells me that he'll cash it in tomorrow. I give him the go ahead and he ends our conversation by saying something along the lines of "...It's most nickels and dimes. iIll bet it only has twenty bucks in it, and that's probably not going to get you far."

I just waved him off and breathed a sigh of relief.

And the next day I was shocked to see how this:

turned into this:

BAM!

$103. 47 to be exact.

Then I got the brilliant idea to shop at the secondhand bookstore where the books are cheap and therefore extensively add to my collection.

It was a beautiful day.

So I went to the bookstore and that place seriously

stresses.

me.

out

There are just millions and millions of books and I just didn't know where to begin. It's the kind of place that you'd have to spend hours in, just to browse.

But I did finally end up with a hefty stack of books.

And that's where my original story begins...

So while in the bookstore browsing the millions of books, I found a copy of the book Wicked. I bought it without giving it a second thought because first of all- I think it was six dollars, and second of all-I went to the play in NYC and fell in love with it.

But alas, I started reading it the other day and I kind of secretly hate it.

a lot.

But I just keep reading it because I just keep thinking It'll come back and redeem itself.

And plus, I spent six whole dollars that took seven years to save on it. I just can't abandon it, so I keep reading through my disappointment.

And I'll probably finish the dang thing too which is such a waste of valuable reading time.

ah well...

never in a million years.

Since I'm like, super old and mature now I've been thinking lately about things I did as a kid. To be exact, things I did as a kid that I would never in a million years consider doing now that I'm older and wiser and not so brave.

1. The goldfish incident

I had always, always, always wanted a goldfish and my lucky day came when I was about seven or eight years old (a little fuzzy on the time line-I'm judging these stories by their bravery content as I became less brave as I got older). 

Shortly thereafter, it was time to clean little Goldie's tank. Somehow-still not quite sure how- little Goldie ended up out of her safe fishbowl and down our kitchen sink-or to be exact- down the garbage disposal.

We all sat in awe of what happened and spent a fair amount of time just staring down that ominous drain wondering what Goldie's fate had been.  

Then someone came up with the brilliant idea that we could just....fish her out.

I shudder to think of this, but I volunteered and stuck my hand down the slimy garbage disposal looking for that dang fish.

Soon enough, among all the other gross shtuff, my hand came upon a slippery little fish. I scooped her right up and put her back in her fishbowl.

yuck.

yuck, yuck, yuck.
Ughh...just thinking of this story gives me the shivery-shudders

2. Horny toads.
I don't know if anyone else calls them by that name, or if anyone else would even know what I'm talking about, but when I was younger, my cousins and I would spend hours among the sagebrush (which was probably tick-infested) searching for these nasty, dry, toad-y things. I just have to document this because now there is no way I would ever dare go galavanting off into the  (tick-infested) sagebrush searching for gross little toadies.
Just so you know.

3. The cat whisper-er
Confession: I like cats.
Like a lot.
Like maybe more than i like dogs.
And I especially like little baby kitties-of course, who doesn't?
Anyway- when I was a wee one, probably about eleven years old we had a kitty (don't remember her name. we went through a lot of cats) and then our kitty had kitties.
It was the middle of winter and our kitty's kitties were in our milk barn which is just a fancy name for the shop that's about thirty yards from our house. So one day-on really blustery, really nasty, really snowdrift-y, really just-want-to-stay-in-your-house-and-drink-hot-chocolate day -I noticed that our kitty was sitting on the back step and not with her kitties in the milk barn.
The kitty was shiv-shiv-shivering and I could tell all she wanted was to be with her kitties in the milk barn, But alas! You couldn't even see the milk barn for all the blowing snow.
So I did a brave and noble thing.
Probably the only brave and noble thing I've ever done in my entire life.
I put my coat on.
my hat on.
my boots on.
my gloves on.
my snowpants on.
my ski mask on.
another coat on.
in other words...
I got all bundled up.
Went outside, scooped up my kitty, and braved the elements to take her to the milk barn.
I busted some serious drifts and was freezing cold, but we made it to the milk barn.
When we got there, I put the kitty down and she ran over to her kitties all huddled in the straw we had laid out for them.
I sat down on a straw bale and decided that I was probably never going to go outside ever again.
After my kitty tended to her kitties, she spent the next hour twisting around my legs, back, lap, purring all the while, thanking me in her kitty way- at least that's how I interpreted it.
And I told her that she was welcome and that I was glad she liked me because I was probably going to be around for awhile on account of I was probably never going to go outside ever again.


And those, my friends, are the only three brave things I've done in my entire life that I probably wouldn't ever in a million years do now.
Except for maybe the kitty one- because even though I've become disillusioned with goldfish and horny toads, I still mostly like kitties.
Mostly.

the things i do for you.

Last Saturday, dear Kolton and I were sitting around with not a whole lot to do.

It had been a long week of school and we were definitely enjoying the day off, but there are only so many hours you can stay cooped up in a little apartment listening to your next door neighbor practice his trombone...or is it a trumpet? All I know is that it's not exactly the kind of music I would choose for an afternoon serenade. 

Anyway.

So while we were sitting around being bored and stuff, Kolton suggested we go for a bike ride.

I perked up at this idea and thought what a lovely idea it was, and what a perfectly smart/romantic/good thinker husband I married.

So I changed into a leisurely bike ride around town outfit and bounded out the door so excited about this idea.

Thirty minutes later, straddling my bike and staring up at a succession of three giant hills, I wasn't so excited about this bike ride idea.

Cue: pathetic whining

"But hooonney.....that hill is huge. like, huge.

I can't do it.

I don't want to do it.

I have no desire to do it.

You tricked me into this."

Cue: eye rolling from Kolton's general direction as he starts to pedal away from me

"C'mon...just put it in a low gear. It's a piece of cake"

Cue: grumbling from my general direction about how I didn't know we were aspiring to be olympic-level bikers and that I thought this was supposed to be a nice, leisurely bike ride where we could have a conversation instead of panting and sweating our guts out. 

But as Kolton was already halfway up the thing, I decided I'd better get a move on. 

So I pedaled, and pedaled, and pedaled, panted, sweated, and shifted down gears til there were none left to shift.  

Kolton occasionally looked over his shoulder and shouted encouraging words.

When we made it to the top of the first of the three ongoing hills, I stopped to catch my breath. My legs were a little shaky, but I was still feeling okay and even a little bit accomplished.

Then Kolton decided it was time to move on. I grumbled some more, but eventually began pedaling again as Kolton gave me some words of wisdom about how it's "All in my head" and that "If I'll just tell myself I can do it, I can"

 I told him to stop talking to me.

By the time we reached the top of the second hill, I was done.

I declared that I was not going one more step...or pedal....or tire rotation uphill.

I was turning around and going home.

Kolton made me stop, stand on my jello-y legs and take a few deep breaths.

When I was functioning again and had gotten some oxygen to my brain,

I still hadn't changed my mind.

 Then he told me that if we went up just one, last, tiny little hill, we could take a leisurely ride through the up-class, huge-house neighborhood of Rexburg and then it would be downhill the whole rest of the way home.

I could tell he really thought this would be appealing to me.

What actually changed my mind was that I knew after the torture he had put me through, I could probably convince him to get some spinach and artichoke dip from Applebees later that night.

Hallucinations of those warm, salty chips and creamy delicious dip were the only things that could inspire my last ditch effort to make it up that stupid hill.

(Kolton still thinks it was his pep talk. Silly boy!)

And yes, I did actually make it.

I didn't enjoy one second of it, but I made it.

And it was downhill the rest of the way, which might have been slightly scarier than the uphill part.

But I did get my spinach and artichoke dip and I even convinced Kolton to watch "The Help" which he actually mighta sorta kinda enjoyed.

In his words, "It was no Gladiator....but it was okay"

up in here

Nothing productive is going on.

We've got issues today.

Yes, that is a we.

Usually when nothing productive goes on, it's all me, but today I was able to snag Kolton and he finally saw the light.

(Until he realized what time it was and freaked out because he hadn't made a dent in his mound of homework)

But seriously.

We got home from school and ate Oreos.

(this is my favorite non-productive thing to do)

Then Kolton found a bag of coupons and we went through every single one trying to decide when exactly we would want a dollar off a Dairy Queen burger, when we would find the time to join the "Curves Club", and how exactly I would convince Kolton to take a salsa dancing class with me. 

We FINALLY got around to doing a leetle bit of homework, and then I mentioned to Kolton what I was planning on making for dinner.

He suggested we go out to eat tonight. 

So we headed over to Costa Vida where I got a grisly steak nacho and Kolton got a burrito that only had rice and beans on the inside and not on the side too. 

That was a deal-breaker.

When we got home, a little wrestling match ensued because I may or may not have stuck an ice cube down Kolton's shirt. 

I'm sure this really amused our neighbors.  

But Kolton has finally gone back to the grindstone and I've gone back to wasting time on the internet.

We'll try again tomorrow.

christmas break part 4

"Wellll....I was wondering if you might give me a little New Year's kiss?"

Gasp.

My lungs begin to shut down and

I. Can't. Breathe.

Did he seriously just say that to me?

I play back the last thirty seconds and find that, indeed, he did in fact say those words to me.

And then I start to laugh.

Yes.

Right out loud.

I was just so blindsided by this question.

 I mean, I knew we'd seen a lot of each other,

I knew he laughed at my jokes,

and liked to beat me at speed,

But did he actually like me?

like, like-like me?

What in the world is happening here?!

When the world finally righted itself and I stopped my chuckling, I realized that several seconds had passed, the invitation still hung in the air, but nothing had happened.

I started to think that maybe he regretted his question and was hoping I hadn't heard him.

But then I realized that this was Kolton and he doesn't go throwing around those kind of invitations without careful thought and consideration.

Good night! The kid doesn't have an impetuous bone in his body!

But still, there we were with my head still on his chest and nothing had happened.

It was just starting to get a tinsy bit awkward when I realized it was up to me (and that possibly my laughter may have weakened his resolve) so I waited a few more seconds, just to see him squirm and make him real nervous.

I might have also had to build up a little courage.

I mean, c'mon! you don't go fantasizing about a boy your whole life and then just go and kiss him! You gotta work up some courage and tell yourself that on the count of three you'll sit up, lean down real slow, and then just....do it.

So with my heart pounding I did just that.

And it wasn't earth-shattering or life-changing and no fireworks went off but....

It was nice.

sometimes we argue part II

1. whether our alarm clock is nerdy.

When we went household item shopping, Kolton was bound and determined to get an alarm clock that projects on the ceiling.

 I just looked at him.

when we finally did reach the alarm clock aisle and finally did find the projecting kind, I had other battles I wanted to fight (like getting a meat mallet, or our darling shower curtain that was maybe a little more spendy than a shower curtain should be) so I gave this one up pretty easily and let him put 'er in the cart. However, he did get a little teasing about the nerdiness factor of a projecting alarm clock.

He protested about how neat it is to be able to just open your eyes, look at the ceiling, and know what time it was.

I still thought it was nerdy.

And even though I still think it's pretty nerdy, it is pretty handy as well. Kolton's reasoning did win out in the end and I've grown accustomed to our nerdiness.

2. Whether to deactivate the seat belt chimes in our cars.

Do you know what i'm talking about? When you don't put on your seat buckle and the car beeps and beeps and beeps at you until you finally break down and buckle up?

Kolton has been fighting me on this one because Honda got really serious about their seat belt chimes and instead of a pleasant sound we get an annoying buzzing/beeping that goes off every other second.

But I know that if I give in and let him deactivate the beeping/buzzing he will NEVER wear his seat buckle.

So I hold strong and it's a hot topic every time we climb in the car.

3. If potatoes count as a vegetable. I'm not a real big fan of vegetables.
Actually, I don't like them one little bit.
Kolton may not be a huge fan of vegetables, but he insists that we have at least one serving per day.
That results in us eating a lot of corn
(cause I do like corn. a whole lot.)
But sometimes Kolton gets kinda sick of corn all the time, so he tries to open up a can of beans.
To which I say, blech.
(beans are not my favorite. I'll eat em but...they're not my favorite)
So in our many discussions about the need for vegetables in our diet I've brought up the fact that we eat a lot of potatoes.
(like a lot of potatoes)
So our vegetable quota is filled,
checked off,
donezo.
But Kolton can't just be happy with this.
Then he goes and has to insist that potatoes don't actually count as vegetables and that we have to add a little more green to our palate.
It's an ongoing discussion.

4. The amount of hours a person can legally spend doing homework. 
Especially how much homework should be allowed to be done on the weekends.
I've always seen the weekends as a blessed reprieve, not a time to get all caught up and then overachieve and get ahead for the next week.
I also haven't maintained a 4.0 since the second grade.
hmmm...
Nonetheless, I am constantly begging Kolton to just give it up already and play with me since we're gone to school all day and then he has to come home and lock himself in solitary confinement (the extra bedroom) and compute silly biochemistry problems.
Really, no one will be happier than me when he finally graduates.

5. What constitutes as "dinner"
Just to set the record straight, I don't try to force my strange eating habits on Kolton.
However, when he is gone or has already eaten, dinner for me, myself, is quite the adventure.
I have always not enjoyed cooking for one.
It just seems like such a waste. especially considering my aversion to leftovers.
So when I only have myself to look after, anything in the kitchen is fair game. (except for like, the fridge magnets of course)
When I was at BYU, a sleeve of Ritz and a bag of popcorn would make a fine feast.
(thank heavens my roommates staged an intervention and we all started rotating cooking for each other during the week. who knows what I would have resorted to without their meals)
So when certain circumstances arise and Kolton is gone or has already eaten for some reason, I just have no desire to cook.
Or even be in the kitchen for more than five seconds.
It just takes too much effort.
So instead I'll hunt around for a box of crackers and maybe some fruit snacks and call 'er good.
Then I'll tell Kolton about it and he'll shake his head at me and inform me that whatever I just consumed doesn't actually count as dinner and that I failed on my daily nutritional value for the day (what's new?)
But you know what?
I kinda think a bag of popcorn for dinner is good for a person every once in a while.
It just adds a little spontaneity to your life.

that september day

"Where were you when the world stopped turning, that September day?"

I was on the school bus headed to fifth grade.

Andrew Newman got on the bus and said something about the World Trade Centers, airplanes, and that it was all over the news.

I sure didn't know what the World Trade Centers were, and it sounded just like any other piece of news to my little fifth grade mind so I just shrugged my shoulders and wondered who I would play with at recess.

When we got to school, I walked up the steps to my classroom and noticed that T.V.'s were on in almost every classroom. When i got settled at my desk and was just waiting for the bell to ring, someone mentioned that they were going to Mr. Mackay's class to watch the news.

I thought, "Why not?" and tagged along.

When I walked into the classroom everyone was glued to the T.V. including several teachers.

When I finally clued in, I looked up to see two gigantic buildings billowing smoke.

I tried to piece the story together little by little, and finally my teacher, Mrs. Barzee, made us all go back to our classroom so we could have a normal day. She described to us all the events of the morning and I was surprised, but New York was an awful long ways away and since there was no real threat to me in my fifth grade classroom, I listened intently but was still able to go about my day with the attacks pushed far in the back of my mind.

I just didn't get it.

A year later, I had grown up a little bit, and on the year anniversary of September 11th, I sat by myself in our basement watching the reruns of the attacks. I stayed up way past my bedtime staring mesmerized at the images they were showing, images that I hadn't paid much attention to the year before.

New York didn't seem so far away then, and I was starting to see.

This week I have been spending inordinate amounts of my time in the tractor. I took some of Kolton's advice and have been listening to talk radio all week for a break from the music radio. On the Sean Hannity radio program, he had a guest filling in for him named Rose Tennet.

She talked about the memorial services for the tenth anniversary of September 11th and I was enthralled as I listened to her speak.

She talked about her reaction to the attack on our country and how she hadn't been able to get the images and fear out of her mind. She told stories of the heroes of that day and the days after who rescued people and who helped to give the rest of the country hope.

As I listened to her speak, ten years after the attacks, something clicked.

And I finally got it.

And it left me driving my tractor around the field choking back tears.

I have spent the last ten years watching footage on the TV once a year and occasionally thinking about what a great impact this event had on our country. I wasn't so naiive that I didn't notice the outpouring of love and compassion everybody showed to everybody.

But I still didn't understand how these attacks affected me. I didn't know anybody there, it was clear across the country, and I just saw it as someone else's problem.

But this week, starting with Rose Tennet, and many other radio talk show hosts discussing September 11, I've realized that as an American, these acts were aimed towards me and towards all other Americans, not just those directly affected.

And it made me think about America's response and how underneath all the labels, all the stereotypes, we are all just Americans.

And as Americans, it is our duty to preserve the land of the free and the home of the brave.

I am so grateful to live in this country, and I'm especially grateful for all those that have fought and sacrificed to make it the place it is today.
God bless the USA

can i just tell you.

1. how very much i hate cleaning out lunchboxes.

i gag.

violently.

i may even hate it worse than taking out the garbage.

but that one's a toss up.

basically i just hate anything that has to do with sticking my face in the near proximity of something that is smelly/old/moldy/grossness

2. how very much i've loved september thus far.

yesterday i was out doing yard work and it dawned on me that it was the perfect fall day.

the weather was cool yet warm. (yes, it's possible)

there was a slight little breeze.

i was crunching through leaves in my yard

and i could hear the sounds of the grain harvest.

holy cow, i just loved it!

and it made me so excited to pull out all my sweaters (oh, how i've missed them).

i love fall.

a story

once upon a time, boy was working hard.

like really hard.

like so hard that he didn't have time to come home for lunch and his clothes were filthy dirty and shmelly by the time he got home at night.

(girl didn't love doing that laundry so much)

so girl decided to do something nice for  boy and make his most favorite dinner of all time. she spent the whole afternoon preparing and even made a pie.

(girl didn't even know that she could make a pie)

boy told her about the time he would make it home from work and girl carefully planned around the schedule and had everything to go right on time.

(that was a miracle in itself.)

 the chicken was bubbling in the oven,

the rolls were perfectly browned, piping hot, and just waiting to be slathered with butter.

the potatoes were mashed up and fluffy (also slathered in butter)

but boy was nowhere to be found.

so girl covered everything up and tried to keep it warm because she just knew boy would be home any minute.

two hours later, boy walked in the door.

girl was a little frustrated because she'd spent all the time preparing the meal so it would be ready right on time, and now the gravy had congealed.

and girl hates it when the gravy congeals.

so girl tried to mask her frustration because she knew that she really shouldn't be frustrated.

boy had been working hard.

she could tell.

he was certainly dirty, and his clothes had to be thrown straight in the washer because they were so shmelly.

but still.

the gravy had congealed!

but girl swallowed her frustration and just looked at boy.

boy looked at the kitchen spread with his favorite meal that was now cold.

then he looked at girl.

straight in the eye.

he got a serious look on his face and then he said.

"I'm sorry."

and then girl looked back at him.

straight in the eye.

got a serious look on her face and then said.

"It's okay."

because it really was okay.

and because girl really loves sincere apologies.

(and she kinda likes boy too.)

so girl made up two plates, stuck them in the microwave, and guess what?

they were good as new. (or as they had been two hours previous)

even the congealed gravy.

after dinner, girl dished up pie.

boy took one bite and his whole face lit up.

(he didn't know girl could make pie either!)

and they lived happily ever after.

christmas break part 3

On Christmas Day, Kolton came over for a little visit. he showed up at my grandparent's house and then we went back to my house to play some rock band. As he left that night, he pulled out a pretty little present just for me. I stared at him empty-handed. (am I a shmuck or what?) and a little bit in shock. (what in the world is happening here?)

The Sunday after Christmas I got invited over to the Hansen house. Kolton taught me how to play speed and then kicked my trash about nine times out of ten. Then he decided to show off a little bit of the work he had been doing that fall. He'd built some balconies in his shop and a big metal contraption for garbage. As I listened to him talk about doing all that work and everything else he'd been doing to stay busy- right then and there I realized that all the messing around I'd been doing with the boys in Provo was not worth my time.

I wasn't going to settle for anything less than a true-blue dyed in wool through and through farm boy, whether it was this particular one or not, I didn't know yet.

After that fun little jaunt, we went back to the house and got talked into watching Ice Age with Teagan. I fell asleep and woke up to Teagan playing footsie with me. We got a good laugh out of that one and then I got taken home.

A few days later we got together with Andra and Marshall and headed for Island Park. We went on a big snowmobile ride all day and then went back to my cabin where we ate dinner and played some games. Then we turned on a movie which I again fell asleep in. When I woke up, the movie was over and Andra and Marshall were gone.
I'd had my little nap and wasn't tired anymore so Kolton and I went upstairs and sat in one of the recliners by the window and just watched the snow fall. As we watched those big ol' flakes we started talking, and talking, and talking. About everything. I've always been a big talker, but Kolton surprised me once again by talking even more than I did. I especially remember him telling me about the car wreck he'd been in when he was younger. I remembered hearing about the wreck and being worried about him when it had happened.

When we finally realized we were getting a little bit sleepy we looked at the clock and it was four in the morning! We had to get up early the next morning to head home so I could get with my family and head back up to the cabin. Kolton slept on the couch downstairs and I slept upstairs in a bedroom-I promised my mom we would sleep on separate floors :)

Very few hours later, we packed up and headed back to Monteview. When I got back to the cabin that afternoon, I zonked out on one of the beds for the rest of the day.

On New Year's Eve, Kolton came back up to Island Park and took me to Marshall's cabin where we had a little party with some other couples. We went on a freezing snowmobile ride and then just played games and messed around. Kolton again kicked my trash at speed which was a little embarrassing, even more so because I was cheating the whole time.

After we rang in the New Year someone put in a movie. There weren't enough couches so Kolton and I made ourselves comfortable on the floor behind the couch.

Pretty soon Kolton leans over to me and says,

"So Jayc, you know of any good New Year's traditions?"

 I wondered if I knew what he was getting at, but didn't want to jump to conclusions (when in doubt, play dumb)

huh-uh...

"Wellll....I was wondering if you might give me a little New Year's kiss?"

to be continued...