Booked

Today is Thursday. That means it's the end of my work week. I'm so excited to get started on what will probably be the last un-booked weekend of my summer.

Oh yeah, I might have forgotten to mention all the cool things I'm doing this summer.

Next weekend: Camping with the ward. Co-ed! Yay! Camping is always more fun with boys (last year, they wouldn't let us camp together, but we got boys anyway, because my now-ex-boyfriend decided it would be fun to four-wheel across the Wasatch Front from Provo Canyon to Hobble Creek Canyon, and they found us there).

Mini rant: I find the objections to co-ed camping (on a ward level) a little bit ridiculous and here's why: if I wanted to get up to some hanky-panky (yes, I just said that), I would NOT do it when I was surrounded by tons of other people staying up all night or dozing in non-sound-proof tents. I would be far more likely to get into trouble in the quiet of my own apartment or in a car. CLARIFICATION: I have no temptation to get up to any kind of trouble while I'm single. I promise. But if I were less good than I am, and had half a brain, a large-group campout would be the last place I'd try anything. /rant

Note: My argument holds considerably less water when applied to a small group of single friends going camping without responsible chaperones. I don't agree with that. 

48 hours (ish) after the ward campout: Lake Powell with my extended fam. Words cannot express how excited I am for this. Or how much packing I still have to do. But my uncle is awesome and agreed to help cover whatever costs I can't afford, because he'd rather have me there than have me miss out. (I love my family.) I'll be gone for a week, skiing, camping, swimming, boating, and playing in the sun. I'll also be carting along about a gallon of sunblock to protect my delicate red-headed skin, which I inherited from my red-headed mother. Hopefully the sunburn I got this week will help a little bit, too.

Once I get back, I'll be launching immediately into packing up all my stuff and moving it to Bountiful. Because yeah, I'm moving to Bountiful. I found a place with an older couple who are willing to rent their basement to me, and they live super close to the bus stop so that I can get to work at the Church Office Building (for the Ensign internship! ^_^).

After that, I graduate, get kicked out of my apartment, and couch-surf for two weeks while I finish up things at work.

If you want me on the weekends, you might have to bargain something valuable.

Although, for a charming man, I may make exceptions. ;)

Downside to Being a Girl

I woke up late this morning and barely had time to exercise and get out the door. Oh if only getting clean were this simple...

Poor Choice of Words

Greg and I were discussing our favorite fashion blogger and her fashion-blogger-cohorts today and how, in an attempt to sound more refined, one of them always says that she picked up an item of clothing at an "estate sale," which, as far as we know, is really just code for YARD sale. She was just trying to make it sound more fancy than it is, and it kind of works, because "estate" does sound fancier than "yard."

But stop and think about this for a second.

What is an estate sale? It is an actual kind of sale. Our dear friend Wikipedia says: "An estate sale or estate liquidation is a type of garage sale, yard sale or auction to dispose of a substantial portion of the materials owned by a person who is recently deceased."

And maybe I'm just used to looking for things like that, but the first thing that crossed my mind when Greg said "estate sale" was, "You mean those auctions for dead people's stuff??" And it obviously occurred to him, too, since he brought it up and asked me about it.

So maybe the "refined" attempt isn't really working so well. How many other people think the same thing when they read her blog?

I mean, maybe she's using it correctly. I wouldn't know for sure. But if she is, that seems a little creepy, don't you think? I mean, who searches out auctions of a dead person's stuff on a routine basis? Well, except for Kirk from Gilmore Girls, but I think that only serves to strengthen my point that it's creepy.

Moral of the story: if you want to sound "more refined" than you are, check to make sure you know what you're talking about.

Sacrificing a Marshmallow Virgin

These photos are belated. By exactly a week. We sacrificed a marshmallow virgin (don't ask--I'm not even sure I want to know) on Squaw Peak on the summer solstice and this is the photographic evidence. Kind of.

We have a new roommate! Allow us to introduce Emily! She's pretty awesome. (And she's the second one from the left)

Savannah attempting to light the marshmallow virgin (five marshmallows stuffed onto a stick figure)

We then threw marshmallows in the air (thus feeding the wildlife and appeasing the buggy hunger that was rampant up there) and did our own terrible renditions of "rain dances" or whatever ritual dance you can think of.

Part of me is inclined to feel slightly embarrassed by our silliness. The rest of me loves it. I have to be a responsible adult soon. So I'm living it up while I can. :)

On the bright side, we could have done far worse (a la Midsummer Night's Dream) on the summer solstice.

Not-so-Deep Thoughts

Ah! I have so many thoughts running around in my head right now. Thanks to my beloved old American History teacher from high school and his recent facebook message to me and a couple other old Mormon students of his. I love talking to him, because he challenges me to think in ways that I'm not used to. It's cool. Especially since he does listen to our perspective, even if he doesn't agree with us.

However, thanks to him, most of the ideas running around in my head are too complicated to spit out in a blog post.

So I'll just stick with some good news: I passed my last two classes!

Not that I was worried about it. I did extremely well in both of them, but I had that secret fear that, by some fluke, I'd missed something or bombed the final paper and failed one or both classes and, since summer term has already started, I wouldn't be able to get in to fulfill the requirements before my graduation. I know. It's silly. But I was mildly worried about it.

But I got two As. :D

So now, for absolute reals this time, I have 120.5 credits, a surprisingly good GPA (considering past scholastic struggles), all fees paid, and I will most definitely be graduating on August 12th. There isn't anything negotiable about it anymore, and that is so nice to know.

So for the next two months, I'm kicking back and working. No more tuition. No more exams. No more ridiculous research papers. I know I've said all of that before, but DO YOU KNOW HOW AWESOME IT FEELS????? It feels like surf and sand between my toes, wind in my hair, and 100% freedom.

And going to work for the Ensign in the fall? Yes, my friends, dreams do come true, and they are worth all of the crap we put up with trying to get to them.

I've never been so happy.

It's All the Rage, Yo!

Planking. The latest fad. Well, in Australia. And it's actually a little outdated, because it has since been superseded by "the new planking": cone-ing. Curious about it? Allow me to show you:



I love people. They do the dumbest things sometimes. Granted, the ab strength it takes to hold some of those "planks" is really impressive when you think about it. Anyway, we watched this at work (because, when one is sitting in front of a computer all day, even the most mundane distraction is exhilarating) and Scott decided right then and there that he needed to get in on this planking craze. So he set the webcam on the Baby Mac, jumped on the counter across the room, and took this:

...just as our sort-of boss Greg walked around the corner. Just imagine it. You're walking down the hall, minding your own business, when suddenly, one of your employees leaps across the room, clatters on top of a desk, and then face-plants himself there, holding the pose for some reason that you can't possibly fathom.

He had the most perfect "what the..." face I have ever seen, muttered, "I'm afraid to ask..." and walked away, while Kaylie and I laughed so hard we cried.

Then Scott persuades us to do it too. Criticize me if you want, but I gave in to the peer pressure, then helped him convince Kaylie to do it, too. That done, we decided to spice things up just a tad more and took this picture, which now hangs proudly in our office:

Our boss Jessika tells us that we are ridiculous. She's probably right. But really now. It's summer. We're cooped up in a windowless room for 6-8 hours a day. What do you expect us to do? Sometimes, our youthful energy just has to release with a bang.

She should be grateful we didn't decide to use her desk for some extra kicks.

And in case you were wondering, this is why I still love my job. The actual work is often boring, but the people are fun.

Achievement

On this day, the summer solstice of 2011, I have achieved something. I finally made it up to Squaw Peak overlook and did not use it as a make-out spot. Okay, so that was two things. I've never been up on the overlook before. And when I did, I did not use it for its stereotyped purpose.

I have also still never hiked the Y. To the shame and horror of BYU students everywhere. Sorry guys.

Also, we sacrificed a marshmallow in honor of the pagan holiday that is the summer solstice. Not sure if that counts as an achievement or not.

Pieces of an Extraordinary Man

As you all know, today is Father's Day. Truth be told, I'd forgotten about it until I was on the road home from Logan. But by then, I was driving through what can only be described as a solid sheet of water coming out of the sky, and the thought of doing anything but paying attention to the road never even crossed my mind.

Anyway, I've been thinking about what I'd like to tell the world about my father. To put it simply, there's far too much to really accurately capture what my father means to me. He is my hero. I know it sounds cheesy, but it's true. I wouldn't be where I am today without him.
 
A father's success is often measured by the success of his family. I'm not saying that I'm some monumental success or anything, but I would have achieved far less without his guidance. These are some of the small but meaningful ways my dad has blessed my life:
 
When I was eight, my parents gave me my first set of scriptures. I'd seen my mom's scriptures all marked up, and I wanted to do the same. Unfortunately, I was too young to know much about what to mark, but I did know that I could mark my parents' favorite scriptures. So I asked Daddy what his favorite scripture was. Now, I'm sure he has many favorites, but the one he told me was Alma 37:37:

Counsel with the Lord in all thy doings, and he will direct thee for good; yea, when thou liest down at night lie down unto the Lord, that he may watch over you in your sleep; and when thou risest in the morning let thy heart be full of thanks unto God; and if ye do these things, ye shall be lifted up at the last day.

I marked it (a little messily) in bright pink in my scriptures all those years ago. But even more important than those pink, shaky lines in my battered set of scriptures was the fact that I saw my dad live that verse everyday. He still does. I remember it not because I colored it in my scriptures, but because my dad told me it was his favorite verse and then proved it by living it. Through every move, every job or calling change, every child with a problem to be solved, my dad has sought the Lord's counsel and direction in leading his family, and we have been incredibly happy and blessed because of it, regardless of what life is like. Because of that example, I have learned to do the same.
 
Once, during high school, I had a terrible day. It was a culmination of a few months' worth of building pressure and uncertainty. When I finally fell apart (during church, no less), my father leaned over and whispered in my ear that we could leave and go find somewhere to talk. I agreed, and we went and sat in the car. Those precious moments in that Ford Expedition are still among my favorite memories with my dad. That conversation changed my life in some very profound ways. It changed how I viewed my relationships with other people, how I viewed myself, and what I wanted to accomplish in life. If I've ever made you smile because I said something nice, or if I noticed you on a day when you felt invisible, it's because I learned how to do that from my dad, that day in our car. He still has this uncanny ability to notice when I need him, even when he's thousands of miles away. I can't count the number of times he has called me at exactly the right moment, just in time to remind me that he will always love me.

For as long as I can remember, my dad has never failed to show my mom that he loves her. When we were younger, he'd walk in the door and we'd come running to give him hugs and kisses. He was really good about not pushing us away or treating us harshly, but he never let us forget that Mom got his attention first. Once he'd kissed her and said hello, then he'd give us proper hugs and loves. By the time I hit high school, I was well-accustomed to shadowing Dad into the kitchen, where he'd greet Mom. When he finished, I'd sneak in for my hug.
 
I used to think my dad wasn't romantic. I distinctly remember telling my mom that I wanted to marry a man just like Dad--except maybe a bit more romantic. I have no idea whatever possessed me to think that. Maybe I was just too young to realize how much he did for my mom. From showing up on the doorstep with a dozen roses (instead of coming in through the garage door) after work, to doing the dishes for her, to pushing us kids out of the room so that he could give her a proper kiss (though he usually didn't wait for us to leave the room before he did), he's always treated her with the utmost devotion and respect. That show of affection and love spread from both of my parents to us, allowing me and my siblings to grow up in a home filled to the brim with love and a feeling of safety.
 
There is so much more that I can say. Anyone who knows me  has heard me talk about my father, because he (and my mom) are so much more than just the people who raised me. They are my best friends. Both of them. I can pick up the phone and call either of them at any time to tell them anything. A lot of times I'll end up calling them both and telling them the same stories, because I love talking to them.

I've said this before, and I'll say it again: my father is probably the most Christlike man I know. He loves me in spite of my shortcomings, my silly moments of overthinking, and my occasional forgetfulness. He always teaches me with the gentleness that I've come to associate with my feelings of the Spirit. The Savior would do anything for us. Sometimes He lets us suffer, because we need to grow, but when we are suffering, He's always hovering nearby to fill in where we can't and remind us of our divine heritage. He loves us enough to make up the difference, even when we're positive we don't deserve it. I know my Savior because I know my father. On a mortal scale, he has done all of these things for me. The deeply personal connection that I feel with my Heavenly Father is only possible because I have a mortal father who loves me the same way that my Eternal Father does.

So if you ever wonder how I became who I am today, let me point you straight on to the man who raised me. If I can be half the parent to my children that he has been to me, I will be extremely fortunate. Happy Father's Day, Dad. I love you.

Missed You!

Hi blog! Did you miss me? 'Cause I missed you. I really have been meaning to write, but then I got busy with the whole end-of-school thing.

Oh.

Yeah.

Did you catch that? End. Of. School! As in done! Finite! Terminado! Like, forever! No more tuition, classes, homework, or finals. Can you feel the relief? I certainly can.

So, to recap: my birthday was pretty darn awesome. I was sitting on the floor of the apartment playing Set with Stephanie and all of a sudden, Savannah and Aubry burst in through the door, threw a pink pillowcase over my head and started dragging me out the door. After being thrown in the car, they drove me to a park for my very own birthday barbecue. Complete with a Cookie Monster cake and a gilded leatherbound edition of The Hobbit (which is definitely the way to my heart--well done, Stephanie). I'm so ridiculously spoiled by my roommates.

I've still been a massive sicky, and my boss may or may not have less-than-favorable-feelings towards me right now, since I've missed so much work. (My old Nazi-boss from Fareway would have fired me long ago. Dude, like I can help it if I can't breathe). But! I'm finally doing better. Just in time for summer break. Go figure. My body tries to kill me during finals, and then realizes summer (and no more school--Forever!) is here and decides, "Hey! Let's party now!" Gee thanks. I could have used some of that health earlier. You know, like for beating the big bad boss, Finalculus. (You don't have to laugh. That was a lame one.)

My cousin had a couple of trauma-based brain abscesses that temporarily paralyzed him last week, which gave me quite a scare, I'll be honest. He's my age, and it happened because he had his wisdom teeth pulled (one more reason--as if I needed any--to leave my stupid teeth in there until they cause an actual problem, not some imaginary future one). He's almost fully recovered now, so my grandma and I drove up to Logan to see him yesterday.

One hair-raising drive through almost-zero-visibility-rain later, and I'm home now.

And it's Father's Day. ^_^ More on that later.