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.