Sister Act

I woke up to a happy email this morning. My sister sent me a very brief note with pictures included.

Jess is on her mission in Germany right now (!!!). I'm stuffed with pride at how great she is. When we were younger, I got irritated by her a lot, but I knew that we'd figure it out eventually and become the best of friends.

Well, it worked. We're tight now. She's become her own woman, full of spunky quirks and radiant in her own, completely beautiful way. We've always been almost night-and-day different, and that's still true.

Except for one little thing.

We make the same face. 

Even when we're half a world apart (and separated by six months of time).

Apparently I have taught her well. 

Love you, Jess. In about a year, you'll come home and find out that I posted this on social media for the world to see. I regret nothing. ;)

Nostalgia Update

For the record, Simba and Hayley (from this post) are still living contentedly in my box of childhood. Turns out, I really couldn't bear to part with them, and I did in fact go home and rescue them from the D.I. bag.

I'm a sucker for my own memories, and I'm not quite so cold-hearted yet that I can just throw those out.

Simba and Hayley live on for another round of weeding-out-childhood-memories.

Memories

So, in the process of weeding out my stuff, I also had three boxes of childhood memorabilia that my parents brought with them when they came up here for Christmas. Which means I am officially moved out of my parents' house entirely. I don't have anything left there.

Three boxes of stuff I can't use is kind of a lot when you're looking at moving into a new place that has limited storage, so I decided to weed out those boxes and try to reduce the number as much as possible. I'm pretty ruthless about this, which might be traumatic for natural pack-rats. Feel free to look away if you must. It gets a little messy.

Basically, I had two rules: If I've used it in the last year, or it's obvious that I could use it with my children, I kept it. If it triggered a strong memory, I kept it. If I didn't pick something up and get thrown back into my childhood by it, I chucked it. And I ended up with only one box when I was done. Like I said. It got a little gory. Many childhood nicknacks have been sacrificed to the D.I. bag (and the unsuitable ones to the garbage bag) here today.

But then I came across these two:

Go figure they're practically staring up at me beseechingly.

And I had a little problem. Because they're probably my most treasured stuffed animals from before I was about six. Simba has a weird little tube in him that makes him purr when you squeeze him, and Hayley the Bunny Rabbit was a gift from my great aunt that I took everywhere with me. And because I was an adorable little girl, Simba and Hayley were usually married and had a slew of children that were puppies, tigers, bears, dragons, and, once, a turkey (???). I've pretty much tossed most of my other stuffed animals, but these two have survived 10 or more purges over the years.

They're bedraggled, well-loved by a child who loved cuddling with them, and I have very, very strong memories associated with them.

But I didn't have room.

Everything fit in one box (including some less well-loved stuffed animals that my kids will probably love) except them. From my own experience as a kid, I didn't really like playing with my mom's well-loved stuffed animals from her childhood, so I can pretty much guarantee that my kids won't want them, especially when newer, softer ones are available (and I have a few of those).

So what do I do?

Making them into a scrapbook-style memory seemed the most fitting tribute, so here I am.

Of course, now that I've written this post, a part of me wants to go home, pull them out of the D.I. bag, and find a way to make them fit into my one box of childhood.

Oh, nostalgia. You're a hard one to beat.

Thanksvember: Mommy

 There's a line in the fourth Harry Potter book that I think applies to my post today. I don't have the book in front of me at the moment, but it says something to the effect of "Fleur greeted her parents and walked away, chattering in rapid French." That is so not the line. But that's the gist. Basically, Harry is bewildered and amused by the typically coy Fleur speaking so expansively to her family, and yet he can't understand a word of it.

I feel like a French speaker would think the same thing if they overheard a conversation between me and my mother. We. Are. Chatterboxes.

And it's awesome. I love it.

My mom came out to visit last week to help her mom with some legal and technical stuff, but of course no business obligations could keep my mother from spending a healthy chunk of time with her three oldest children, who all live in Utah.

I got her for both weekends.

Go me.

And I just love talking to her. I love being with her. Man, I just love her. All of her.

Yes. I did just use a How to Train Your Dragon reference. You're welcome.

I love my relationship with my mom. She's my best friend, and it's so easy to talk to her, but at the same time, she is always, always my mother, and that comes with wisdom, perspective, and counsel that I soak up like a sponge. I love that she works hard to understand that her children may have different sensibilities and cultural norms than she did growing up, so she's not constantly nagging at us for not doing things the way she did. My mother is probably the most graceful person I know when it comes to accepting change, including the changes in the world and in her children. She adapts without ever losing who she is, and that is one of the most beautiful things about her.

I'm pretty sure that other people may want to argue with me about this, but I'm convinced that I have the best mom in the world. And I really don't mean that in any generic, trivial way. I'm serious. More than an isolated few people have mentioned that they wish they could have a relationship with their mothers like I have with mine. And I have never, ever been jealous of anyone else's relationships with their mothers, because mine equals or surpasses the best of them. I don't mean this to brag. I am so incredibly blessed to have my mother. I don't deserve her any more than someone else does, but she's mine. Forever.

I will never stop being grateful for that.

Also, Happy Birthday in advance, Mom. I'm half your age for the next year. That feels special, somehow. :)

Joy Is in the Little Things

So Little Brother is in Utah now.

:)

Wow, that emoticon is the biggest understatement of the century.

Better. Much better.

Roommate and I played Go Fish with tiny Disney Princess cards and got very... vehement about it.

I also read the children's book I wrote in high school to her in what she has now dubbed my "Bartok" voice and our very good (and male) friend walked in while I was in the middle of it. If I hadn't been laughing so hard, I might have been embarrassed.

I had a remarkably delicious hot dog for lunch today. While that's not making any progress whatsoever on my goal to eat healthier, it is still making me quite happy. Enjoy it, Food Baby, before I get rid of you.

My best friend needed my address so that she could send me a letter. Which means I get snail mail (which is a thousand times better than any notification or email). It also means that I will (hopefully) get to enjoy her wacky doodles again, since I'm pretty sure I've never gotten a letter from her that didn't have at least a few of them.

A friend of mine came over last night and vented about his frustrations. That doesn't seem like a good thing, but it was really nice to have a real conversation with him, since my roommate and I don't see him more than a couple times a year.

I watched a very attractive guy walk over to our bookshelves, pull a book down, and proceed to get very involved in the book while the rest of us talked around him. It was, well, really attractive to see a man get so absorbed in a book that he forgot anyone else was around. Guys, reading is hot. Plus, our books are there to be read. And nobody ever reads them except us.

It was really cool and beautiful on my stroll to the bus stop this morning, and my roommate had opened up the sliding glass door to our patio before she left for work, so I woke up to a lovely breeze and an apartment filled with fresh air this morning. (Don't worry, Roommate, I locked the door before I left.) That put me in a great mood.

I love that there is silver lining to every day, no matter how good or bad it is. Of the guys mentioned in my "Try and Try Again" post, all of them have closed the doors pretty much for good, so dating wise, it's back to square one. I'm surprised at how little I'm actually upset by it.

Perhaps it's because my roommate has been having a rough time at her job, and so, a few weeks ago, I got into the habit of asking her to tell me one good thing that had happened to her each day. She could always come up with something, even if it seemed insignificant. After a while, she started volunteering the information before I even thought about asking her, and it seems that I have adopted a similar pattern into my own life.

And you know what? For the moment at least (since emotions change all the time) I don't really feel glad to be crush-free. That's not to say that I'm upset by it. I just don't really think it's something that should be desired.

Be bold. Dare to wish for that crazy, happy, head-over-heels kind of love. If you don't have it, don't sweat it. There are a lot of other great things to be doing in the meantime. Savor them. Enjoy them.

Do you want to know the thing I'm most grateful for, and the thing that brings me some of the greatest happiness? I feel needed. I took the time and effort to open my heart and my home to people who just wanted a friend. In return, they have done the same to me. Friendship doesn't necessarily lead to romantic love (in many cases, that's a good thing), but romantic love isn't the only kind of love out there. You don't have to be in love to be happy. Sometimes it's enough to love and be loved.

That's what I've figured out this week.

And guess what?

I'm pretty happy.

Aaaand She Makes Another Comeback Attempt

Well hello! Welcome back!

Or, well, welcome back to me, since you guys probably checked this more often than I did.

Actually, that's probably not true. I've guiltily glanced at this blog almost every day since I last posted and then closed the tab to pretend that my negligent posting problem didn't exist. But since I usually don't enjoy journaling, and I do enjoy blogging more, I probably should stop living in denial and just suck it up and post. I don't know why I think I don't have time. I managed to blog a lot during college.

Oh right. I did that to procrastinate homework.

Hm. I don't really have anything to procrastinate anymore. Is that my problem?

I'll just procrastinate sorting that out and finish this post. Ha.

So what's new?

I have new jeans. That's probably only relevant to me. Although, if I had a boyfriend, I suppose I could get him to appreciate the cute pattern on the back pockets. Did I just say that out loud? Whoops. But seriously, I haven't bought new jeans in about three years, and my proportions have certainly changed in that time. It's nice to have a pair that fits really well all over instead of being baggy in weird places. Self-esteem=way up. That's why it matters.

I went to Lake Powell with my family. Nope, it doesn't look like it. I'm not tanner or redder or anything. I may have slightly overdone the sunscreening... What can I say? I'd rather be pasty white than Kentucky Fried Chicken.

The best part of my Powell trip?

This.

Yes, that's a sand castle model of Middle Earth. Yes, my brothers and I built the whole thing. Pretty much from memory. Are we nerds?

DANG STRAIGHT.

It took us two days, and it's probably one of the proudest accomplishments of my life. Which is saying something, considering I have a career and a college degree under my belt. And considering my brothers did most of the sculpting, because I suck at it. I just drew the blueprints. And made a million tiny clay balls for trees in Mirkwood.

I won't overload you with pictures here. The rest will be on Facebook. But here's a couple of my very favorites.

Here's an idea of the scope of the thing. Plus, you get to see my three very awesome and adorable brothers. Lucky you. Conveniently enough, they're in order of age from left to right. They're also showing off the things that they sculpted. Not that you can tell what exactly they're pointing at, but still.

Ben is an artist. This is probably the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. Not bad for wet sand, eh?

He's also a dork. But he's my dork, so I love him. Points if you know what he's doing here.

And of course, the journey shot. Isengard to Mordor. With a little glimpse of our perfect cove in the background. 

We had the best spot in all of Lake Powell. Tiny cove, no outlet, plenty of shade, big sandy beach. It was perfection. I suck a water sports, but I'm definitely a sun, sand, water, and beach kind of girl. I love this kind of camping. Being up in a mountain amidst all the trees and clouds is nice too, but this, this I love.

I have a new phone. (Yes, I'm still telling you a list of what's new--I just paused to show you Middle Earth) Since I love using it, I might be more likely to stay in touch with people. That's important. I guess.

In about half an hour, I'm going to get my hair recolored to the dark brown I love so much. You may not care, but I'm also a little proud of the fact that it's the longest I've ever had it and when the dark brown is in it, it kinda looks like chocolate. And that is awesome.

I finally went to the Manti Temple, where my parents were married, for the first time since I received my endowment. It is, hands down, my favorite temple. Plus it was really cool to feel so close to my parents, even though they're still in Texas right now. It was like I'd taken a little journey into their love story. Awww!

Other than that, life is good. I get a legally-required two-week break from work while they change up my contract (still the same job, though), and it's been nice to get a lot of things done around home and in my personal life that I haven't had the time or energy for before this.

I'm going to try, really, really try, to blog more often. I like it. It's fun. Thanks for being patient with me. Love you all!

I Have a Date!

You know what I love about getting older?

I love watching my siblings growing up. I was on the phone with my stud-muffin little brother yesterday, and we were talking about his birthday (he's 17, can you believe it?) and other, more trivial matters. Mostly about food. Weird, but true.

See, I have this favorite burger place, but it's only in the Austin area in Texas, which means I almost never get to enjoy it, because I'm only home one or two weeks out of the year. BUT! Brian is coming home from his mission in April, and I'll be going home for that, so Mighty Fine and I will be having a delicious, sumptuous reunion.

But then! Ben told me that there was this other burger place that he likes even better. And, of course, the mean little blighter that he is, he started describing the burgers and fries in mouth-watering detail. I had just gotten off work and was waiting for the bus so that I could go home and make dinner. Hello, purest form of torture.

It suddenly occurred to me over the tidal-wave-style rumblings in my tummy that Ben and I should totally go on a sibling date to this superior burger place. And that's when I realized that I love that I'm getting older, because it means that Ben is old enough to drive us to the place and he and I can have a real, honest-to-goodness, one-on-one dinner (or lunch---burgers are acceptable for anytime except breakfast), just the two of us. I don't have to ferry him around anymore.

And I totally love that.

So yeah, I have a date. In two months. With my little brother. It's going to be awesome.

Oh, and I have a date next Saturday, too (not with my little brother). ^_^

Life's pretty great.

Thoughts on Motherhood

I've been stewing on this post for awhile. For several months now, I've had more friends in various stages of life than I ever have before. Some are single, some are married without children, some have young kids, some have teenagers, and some are empty nesters. Most of them are women.

I've been bothered a lot recently by a couple of friends in particular who, whenever the topic of children is brought up, always manage to point out that having children is full of trials. Oh, you get blessed, but it doesn't really make up for the long stretches of grief that they give you, they say. Every time they talk about children, I get the feeling that a small (or big) part of them feels regret or resentment towards their children. They made it sound like a life sentence rather than a rewarding challenge.

Now, I'm not a mother, obviously, but I am a child, and I have a mother. I know my siblings and I were occasionally (often) really good at making her lose her temper, and driving her crazy was sometimes a recreational pastime. (Not often: we weren't devil children.) But I never doubted that my mom truly felt that we were the greatest blessing in her life (besides Dad, of course). As I got older, that knowledge actually encouraged me to be a better daughter, because I wanted to always be a blessing in my mom's life.

No matter what I faced, I was always supported by the knowledge that my mother loved me more than anything else in this world, and nothing I could ever do would make her throw up her hands and give up on me.

Honestly, it would shatter me to find out that my mom considered me and my siblings a necessary trial that got in the way of other things. That's not what parenting is about. Its not just doing the world a service by raising kids to be responsible adults who contribute to the world in meaningful ways. I truly think that motherhood is meant to be the source of the greatest joys in the world.

Now, I get that not every woman is cut out to thrive on the difficulties of motherhood. Some women genuinely struggle with it (and I'm sure every woman has a hard time with being a good mother with varying degrees of frequency). But I've learned something over the last few years that I hope I never forget: how you allow yourself to think about a trial directly affects how you actually feel about it. When I start thinking that work is boring and repetitive and unfun, I find it harder and harder to go in and be productive. I'm just coming out of that, actually. Then I got sick of disliking my job and started focusing on the good things about it. It's a process that requires patience and consistency, but I've started to love my work again. I think the same thing applies to anything else, including motherhood. If you think that your children are a trial, that is what they become. If you consider them a blessing and a source of joy, the struggles, tantrums, and bad attitudes begin to pale in comparison to their incredible potential.

You tend to get what you focus on.

Personally, I look forward to having kids. I know how rewarding it is to see my younger siblings grow up well and fulfill their potential. It'll be a thousand times more worth it to help my own children do the same thing.

So a note for the future: don't let me complain about my kids. I never want to resent them or regret having them. Those feelings can do so much damage to children, no matter their age. I've known people who, even in adulthood, would have given everything to know that their parents loved them and didn't regret them.

I want to give my own children a home as filled with unconditional, unfailing love as my own was. Even when they smear poop on the walls, or tie each other up, or break curfew to party with questionable friends. My children will always know that their mother loves them. Even when I  lose my temper, because I'm sure it'll happen.

So yeah. I've been stewing on this for awhile because it's been bothering me. And it's made me eternally grateful for a mother who has never stopped loving me, no matter how much I've struggled.

Coming Home

This is how I feel when I reach the baggage claim at the airport every time I land in Austin. In a good way, of course. ;) I love my family.

Father's Day

Yeah, yeah, I know. Blogging is apparently not my strong suit anymore.

But I'm back again because today is Father's Day, and I like to get my thoughts down about it every year.

I'm always grateful for my dad. He's an amazing man whose example has helped to bring me to where I am today. I love that he's my best friend and that I can talk to him about anything.

Right now, especially, I am so grateful for him. I haven't written as much recently because I'm entering a phase of a lot of uncertainty, and the few things that I am certain of involve some changes that scare me a little bit.

I'm not usually afraid of change. My family has moved around so much that I'm accustomed to it, and I even, occasionally, get wanderlust and want to change things up. But I'm facing the first time that I may have to do a major move without my family by my side, and it scares me quite a bit.

My father, who has faced down far scarier things than I have, never fails to lend me some of his strength and conviction that things are going exactly how they need to be.

Words are honestly failing me right now. I can't begin to express what the example of my father has meant for me through all these years. I have so many treasured memories. Whether they involve curling up next to him during a movie (which, sadly, the new couch they have prevents me from doing) or our newer tradition of taking a long, peaceful drive along the prettiest roads we can find in his Mustang every time I come home. Other, more sacred memories come from the father's blessings, quiet nighttime conversations and counsel, and late night phone calls. I am who I am because of my dad. The strength that people see in me comes from him.

On a lighter note, I've been saving this particular comic strip for today, because I'm sure my dad is endlessly grateful that none of his kids do this to him, even though we may want to.

Easter

I know I haven't been blogging very often. There are a lot of reasons for that, many of them having to do with personal struggles. But today is Easter, and it means more to me this year than I think it ever has.

I've never been much into the chocolate, bunnies, and eggs for Easter. You can probably credit that to my parents, who have never been big on it either. Because of that, Easter has only had one prominent meaning for me: the Resurrection. I didn't usually have chocolate or baskets to look forward to, and it did mean that Easter didn't hold a ton of significance for me as a kid, because I didn't really understand the Atonement back then.

But as I've gotten older and come to understand how much I need Christ, Easter has started to become one of my favorite times of the year. This year, I've been thinking a lot about how my Savior sees me.

That may sound a little odd. But I know how I feel about Him. And the more I study the Atonement, the more I realize that I am absolutely nothing without Him. But that often leads to those terrible feelings of not being good enough to deserve that kind of love, especially when I've been struggling in other areas of my life.

But this whole weekend, I've been trying to forget how inadequate I feel and focus on how the Lord feels about me. It helps that my wonderful, amazing missionary brother seems to be having the same feelings of inadequacy that I have. It's easy to see how the Lord feels about Brian, because it's a magnification of the love I feel for him. I would move heaven and earth to lighten my brother's load and show him that he hasn't given me any reason to be disappointed in him. Even his struggles have made me love him all the more. I know the Lord's feelings about my brother are unfathomably deeper than my own.

If I can see the Lord's never-failing love for my brother, doesn't it make sense that He feels the same about me, inadequate though I am? I wish I could explain how I feel. For a girl who has made words her life, this is one subject that I can never do justice to. Words fail me every single time.

But I know this. That it's okay to look up at heaven and cry out, "I can't do this anymore." It's okay to be like the father of a stricken boy who looked up at the mortal Christ with pleading eyes and begged, "Help thou my unbelief." Faith was a prerequisite to the miracle that father sought, but he knew he was weak. When Jesus asked him if he had faith, he answered yes. But there seems to be an unwritten exchange in that moment, in which the father reevaluates himself and then says some of the sweetest words ever uttered, "Help thou my unbelief."

What I love most about that story is that Christ heals the boy, knowing that weak as it was, the father's faith was still enough.

It's okay to ask the Lord to be our strength because ours has run out.

That's when He wraps His arms around you and lifts both you and your heavy load. And at His touch, you suddenly realize that the warmth of His closeness is utterly familiar to you, because He's always been right there, hands outstretched to brace you at the slightest stumble.

The weaknesses we feel, the self-doubt, and inadequacy, are our own feelings, not His. No amount of trial and error or personal failings can ever make Him turn away from us. Think of a person you dearly love who has struggled. Would you, even for a second, really consider giving up on them? Never. You may let them make their choices, but would you be there in an instant if they asked for your help? I hope the answer is yes. It certainly is yes when it comes to the Savior's attention to each of us.

You know, I have studied literary figures and heroes practically my whole life. And for all of their virtues, no hero ever comes close to being able to do for the people they serve and die for what Christ has done for every. single. person who has ever lived on this earth. For you. For me. Every day.

I love this song, and I think it sums up many of my feelings about the Savior on this most sacred and beautiful of days.



I love my Savior. I am nothing without Him, and yet He has made everything of me. I hope you all feel His love today especially, and every day.

Happy Easter

Big Little Brother

Forgive the ugly bird in the last post. But I felt sort of stupidly, buck-toothed, ugly-faced happy about my gigantic tax returns and needed a picture to match. Because taking an ugly one of myself wasn't an option. Also, I did not have any bills to throw in the air because all of my money is electronic at the moment.

So you got a really ugly-looking emu.

You're welcome.

So... Leap Day.

Try as I might, I really can't figure out how to celebrate it. Is it bad that I know exactly how to celebrate Hobbit Day, but not Leap Day? I even know how to celebrate Groundhog Day. The only thing I can think of is to briefly cheer that my younger brother is 16 and not 4 this year, since he was a mere 28ish hours away from being being born on the 29th.

Oh yeah, my stud-muffin brother is sixteen now. He's been breaking hearts for a few years, but now he can actually date those hearts before breaking them.

I kid. He's not a heartless player. But I have received an endless amount of entertainment from going home to visit and watching all the little 12 to 15-year-old girls swooning over him. I was that age once. I know what they're thinking. And it's hilarious. It's also extremely satisfying. I like knowing that girls think my brothers are cute. They'd darn well better, if they know what's good for them.

And Ben has a lot more going for him than just his looks (and he is the best looking one in our family---in my opinion, anyway (Dad, don't take it personally, okay?)). He's been able to carry a tune and hit every note pitch-perfect since he was a little guy who sang on the toilet while Brian and I laughed on the other side of the door. Sorry, that may be a little embarrassing for him, but he'd better get used to it. I may or may not be saving more of that story to tell his wife someday. Besides, it's in my Big Sister Contract to say at least one embarrassing thing about my little brother. Back on topic: He really does have an amazing voice, and it sounds even better now that it's dropped. He's also a champion snuggler, and treats me wonderfully, despite his very big "cool" factor.

He also puts High School Lynnae to shame when it comes to his grasp of the gospel. Every time I go to say goodnight when I'm visiting home, I always walk in on him saying his prayers or reading his scriptures. There was one night, after I'd come home to de-stress from a very difficult time at BYU, that I just stood in the doorway to his room and soaked up the sight of him on his knees, so grateful that he was such a good example.

I used to read about Nephi and Laman and Lemuel and worry that I had too much in common with Nephi's resentful older brothers, because the idea of one of my younger siblings ruling over me was just as repellent to me as it was to them. But seeing Ben on his knees like that, night after night, I've come to realize that I would be honored to allow my brothers to counsel and guide me. Brian already has. Ben probably will someday.

I often brag about how I have the best parents in the world. And it's true. But I also have the best brothers in the world (and sister, too). Both Ben and Brian have become more protective of me as they've outgrown me, and I often catch myself slipping and calling Brian my "big" brother, even though he's three years younger. When I was younger, I dreamed of having a big brother to take care of me, never realizing that my little brothers would grow into that role and happily fill those shoes. Thanks, Ben, for being my big little brother. You're awesome, and I'm the luckiest sister in the world.

Love

I love when my dad calls me late at night, just because he's thinking about me and wants to make sure that the stress of job hunting isn't killing me yet. He's the sweetest man alive. :)

And a Very Merry Christmas to You

Christmas has been wonderful. There's nothing like a houseful of giddy kids who all still believe in Santa Claus to cure the lackofspirit blues I've been feeling. Having Ender crawl into my lap and ask me if he would be able to hear Santa coming is just cute.

I did miss being with my family, naturally. But I definitely made the right choice about where to spend my first Christmas away from home: Being Papa Boatright's "sixth daughter" was almost as good as being my own father's "Dots" (a name reserved just for me, incidentally ^_^). And thanks to all of the enthusiastic Boatright grandkids running around, I didn't have time to get lonely.

To be honest, I was most homesick for Brian anyway. My Thanksgiving dose of my family (and the possibility of seeing my family sometime in January or February) was enough to hold me over. But I've never spent a Christmas without Brian, and the thought of not being partners in crime in the Christmas mischief and mayhem (which we've done for as long as I can remember) would have been more difficult if I'd been with my family.

Which leads me to the best part of my Christmas. Sure, I got some cool presents, but the BEST present was hearing Brian's voice on the phone. He got his missionary Christmas phone call home, and Dad conferenced me in with them. I almost burst into tears when I heard him. Does that sound sappy? I'm sorry. I'm just so stinking proud of him. Hearing him talk with that familiar missionary-rhythm (if you don't know it, it's characterized by short sentences or phrases, with a rising tone at the end of each phrase---almost like the rising tone that marks a question in speech, but not quite so obvious), and slip into Spanish reminded me how much he's grown up since he left. Did you know he's been gone for nine months? That means he has 15 months left. 

Yes, I'm trunky for him. He's not, but I am. :) 

Anyway, that was my favorite part of Christmas. I hope you all had a wonderful day, too. 

In Other News...

Geez, Lynnae. Do you ever talk about anything besides work these days? You sound like a workaholic.

Departing from the trend of the last many posts, here's an update on my personal life:

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...

...

...

...

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Okay, so I don't really have one. Or at least, not one that would satisfy all those people who are curious about the boys sweeping me off my feet, or wildly fulfilling nights out with the girls. To be honest, even though I've adjusted to the schedule and the (positive!) emotional wear-down of my job, I'm still pretty worn out at the end of the day. I'd much rather curl up on my bed with a book than go out and play.

I did see Qait and her family during conference weekend. It was wonderful. As comfortable as being with my own family. Mom Boatright and I snuggled up together for a little while during the Sunday morning session. Whenever I could, I stole Scarlett away from her adoring mother. Not exactly easy. Qait is a very loving, dedicated mother. She loves holding Scarlett (and I love watching her hold Scarlett, to be honest). But I got some time to play with her, too.

That sweet little baby such a talker. She coos and burbles and smiles at you the instant you bend over to play with her. I'm sure she's telling us marvelous stories that we can't understand. (And sneaky Aunt Lynnae whispered to her that she should grow up to be a storyteller and a world-famous author when Mom wasn't around.)

Later, while Qait was sleeping, Scarlett started to fuss, so I picked her up and carried her around, soothing her until she finally drifted off to sleep. When I was sure she wouldn't wake, I finally sat down in the rocking chair and listened to the rest of conference, enjoying the tingly feeling of my arm falling asleep underneath her. Funny how much I liked a sensation that's normally considered uncomfortable. I blame those cute little baby sounds she made as she slept.

Okay, so Lynnae lives for work and her best friend's kids. That's a real thrilling single-girl life.

I did have a date-ish-thing last Thursday. A guy in the ward called me up and asked if I'd like to go get some ice cream with him. We ate delicious frozen custard and played Set (heh. I won. But he put up a good fight.) on the table while we finished our ice cream. It was nice to go on a date again. Between finishing classes, graduating, and moving, I haven't had much of a dating life for several months.

Apparently I'm not a lost cause. :)

Settling In

I think I'm going to love it here.

That's my first thought as I wander into the laundry room to do my (free!) laundry, munching contentedly on a gourmet chocolate from Mrs. Cavanaugh's candy store. Sister Johnson works there, see, and she took me on a little tour of Bountiful today so that I could do some grocery shopping and see what attractions were nearby. The list of attractions included Mrs. Cavanaugh's, since she works there, and the employees working today insisted that, as her tenant, I was entitled, nay, required to sample some of their candies for free. So they gave me a small goodie bag of their best chocolates and here I am, perfectly content.

Visiting my family in Texas was wonderful. I pretty much did nothing for a whole week, which, after the last month or so, was a fabulous change.

Granted, I did get some quality sibling-torture time in. I pretty much sat on, poked, and otherwise inconvenienced Ben for about an hour one night. But apparently he liked it, because he just wrote on my wall on Facebook telling me that it has been forever since I've been to Texas and when would I be coming back?

Right, Ben. I just left yesterday.

And I wasn't the only one doing the sibling torture: Jessica played a mean trick on me this week.

For some reason completely unbeknownst to me, she wanted to jump on top of me while I was lying in bed (and I did nothing whatsoever to provoke her... honest!), but I definitely preferred to be un-jumped, so I rolled onto my back and put my feet up so that any attempts to pounce would result in a classic case of footinthegut syndrome. She tried several times, and then seemed to decide to give up. She turned to the closet, pulled out a bottle of lotion and asked, "Foot rub?"

Oh yesyesyes! So I stretched my feet out for her and kapow! She pounced. Bullseye. Sneaky little devil. I'm never trusting her and lotion again.

Hyrum drew me a darling little pink ninja during FHE and I liked it so much that I keep it on my mirror now. See? --->

We were playing a Pictionary-ish game, where you had to draw a picture that represented one of your family members and see if the rest of us could figure it out. I thought she was cute, so I kept her.

The only downer about being home? Texas is hecka hot! And heat and I... let's just say that that's a relationship that will never happen. I felt like I was stepping out into a sauna every time I walked outside. Forget makeup--it would melt right off. (Okay, so the Mary Kay stuff that my mom hooked me up with won't, but that's only because it's awesome.)

Who would have thought that Utah would be considered fresh, green, and cool at the beginning of September? But it is, let me tell you. It's heavenly.

Anyway, so now I'm back, and I'm settling into my new life. I was supposed to go up to Logan tonight, but complications made it impossible, and to be honest, I'm kind of grateful. It's nice to have a whole day to putter around my room and get everything set up the way I want it.

And I start work tomorrow!

I'd be scared if I weren't so dang excited.

Thanks to the insistence of my mother, I'll be trying my best to blog pretty regularly about work at the Church Office Building, plus, I'll probably be letting you guys know what things I actually worked on or wrote, so that you can stalk my published work, if you choose.

In the meantime, I'm enjoying a luxurious bed, free laundry, and delicious chocolates.

Chaos Theory

So guess what? I'm graduated now!

Does this mean I'm officially in adulthood? Because I'm pretty sure I got an inordinate amount of pleasure out of tickle-torturing my cousins the other night and I'm also pretty sure adults should be more mature than that.

So much for entering adulthood.

Insert a gigantic sigh of relief right here.

I'm done! And if I mention it several times in the next few weeks, that's probably because it's still sinking in. I haven't really had enough time to really process the whole graduating thing because last week was absolutely insane. Newton came up with his Second Law of Thermodynamics from getting a peek at my week.

Having my family up here is bonkers. First of all, we're crazy. I think we had an entire meal where none of us let go of our glasses of BYU chocolate milk because someone else would swipe it if we did. Add in a dash of absolutely psychotic scheduling, and things were just, well, chaotic.

And the fun/not-so-fun part? I'm still running around like crazy. My family went home on Sunday. It's now Tuesday, and I still haven't had a day to just kick back and take a break. Needless to say, I'm exhausted, which is probably why I can't seem to finish my blog posts.

Guess this will have to do...

Part of the Family

There's a part of me that wants to write epic, creative masterpieces on my blog, so I wait until I come up with a good idea... then I just give up and decide to just talk about life instead. Hope y'all don't mind. :)

Today was unintentionally full of spur-of-the-moment decisions. Qait's older sister is moving to Texas, so she's in town for a few days, saying goodbye to a lot of Utah friends. Turns out she wanted to see me, too. So she and her husband picked me up and took me down to Payson to a family-reunion of sorts. Qait's parents were there, too, and they were so happy to see me. It's funny that, even eight years later, I still constantly underestimate how much they care about me.

You'd think I'd learn. Last year, they gave Tevan the "You take care of her, young man" speech, complete with the demonstration of dangerous weapons (Papa Boatright showed off his wickedly sharp, authentic samurai swords right before looking him dead in the eye and telling him to treat me right). It unnerved him far more than meeting my dad did. Qait told me later it's because they love me so darn much, and they want nothing but the best for me, so they were just checking to make sure the man on my arm deserved me. I was touched by their protectiveness.

Rae introduced me to her other family members as her family friend and adoptive sister. One of them remarked, "You know, she actually looks like the Boatright sisters." Rae responded that, for all intents and purposes, I was. First of all, I love it when people say that, because I feel like one of the Boatright sisters a lot of the time. Secondly, since Qait, Rae, and all of their sisters are GORGEOUS, I'm super flattered to be compared to them.

I've never felt so at home with someone else's family. Not even when I was meeting some of my then-boyfriend's siblings last year. I always try to describe how I feel about Qait's family, and I fail every time. Have you ever met someone and knew that they were your soul-mate? In the most non-romantic sense of soul-mate-ness, that's what it's like. I feel like I fit into that family as if I grew up with them.

My poor future-husband. I have double the family for him to meet and love. Not that it's hard to love either family. :)

After the Boatright family party, I came home, and Savannah offered to take me to see Qait and her new baby, Scarlett, since I was sick last week and couldn't visit. So, on that whim, we sauntered off to Orem to see my new niece. She is the most beautiful thing I have ever laid eyes on. With her curly dark hair and HUGE dark eyes, she looks like an exotic princess and I'm completely in love. I almost couldn't bear to give her back to Qait, but Ender needed some Aunt Lynnae love (and tummy-raspberries) so I had to.

I'm so grateful to be part of such a beautiful family. Being with them is as wholesome and refreshing as being with my own biological family.

I'm Grateful for Plumbing

Happyhappyhappyhappyhappyhappyhappyhappyhappyhappyhappyhappyhappyhappyhappy!

Yep. That's me. Happy.

Hurting, but happy. I just got back from an epic week at Lake Powell with my extended family. It is most likely the best thing I have ever allowed myself to be talked into.

I won't bore you with all of the details of the trip. Most of the time, stories of trips are most interesting when you're actually in them, although you can slide by with in-person retellings sometimes because tone, expression, and gestures help a lot. But here? Not so much.

Since it was so hot, we all slept on the deck

So here's the skinny on what you should know about my trip:

I did in fact get a little skinnier. I was too busy playing to eat a ton of food. Plus, you try getting food when 6 teenage boys crowd you out at every meal and inhale all the food before you get to it. :)

My cousin Josh Anderson is a Tube Wars BEAST. He did things that, according to the laws of physics, probably shouldn't be possible. I'll have to show you pictures sometime, once I find a way to glean them from my aunt's camera.

We survived a pretty vicious windstorm and almost lost Josh Wille between two boats, but he miraculously did not get squished in half. We're grateful for that. The boats were all saved, if unanchored to the shore, and nobody got hurt. So we chalked it up to a really intense experience.

This is me with "The Joshes." Josh-on-the-right is my cousin. Josh-on-the-left is my cousin's cousin. They're both pretty awesome.

I kneeboarded for the first time. I really like it.

Unfortunately, my grip sucks. I get these shooting pains through my hands and wrists when I try to do it more than once in the space of several hours. Two-ish years of scooping ice cream and a hereditary tendency toward carpal tunnel syndrome (I think) seems to be the main problem. I'm sad, because otherwise I could definitely keep going. The rest of me is strong enough.

Why yes, I did take this picture. :)

I tanned gently and wonderfully all week, then of course forgot to apply sunscreen this morning, so my knees are roasted after sitting on a boat for a bunch of hours. My roommates are making fun of me because I'm "waddling like a duck," to use their description. It's just... they hurt so bad! On the bright side, it happened at the end of the trip, so I'm back in air conditioning with buckets of aloe, advil, and ice packs to comfort me. :)

But it was SO worth it! I loved being cut off from technology and surrounded by the rocking waves and soaring cliffs. We woke up with the sun, went to bed with the sun, and nobody cared what time it was (we checked sometimes, just out of curiosity, but time was so irrelevant down there). It was heaven on earth.

Okay, minus the plumbing. I really did miss that. :)

One Year Ago

Today marks the one-year anniversary of my aunt's death, so naturally I've been thinking about her. The grieving process has long since run its course (much faster for me than for her husband and children, I'm sure), but she's never all that far from my thoughts. I still wear one of those rubbery "live strong" type bands on my wrist in honor of her memory. Largely because I miss it when I don't wear it, and because it reminds me from time to time to be the kind of woman my aunt was.

My uncle's new wife wrote a beautiful piece about Amy and how they can still feel her spirit in their home. Her children each also acknowledged her lingering influence in their lives today, too. Even I can feel it. She did more to knit our whole extended family together than anything anyone else has ever been able to do. Before last year, I was just the college kid who occasionally saw my extended family. If family things happened, I didn't always know about them. If I did, I didn't always go. The cousins were strewn all over Utah and it was hard to get us all together. I didn't really feel strong connections to my aunts and uncles and, too often, just didn't care.

Amy's diagnosis and subsequent struggle did so much to pull our family together. Because most of us were down visiting her every week, we saw more of each other, and because, despite their best efforts, friends and acquaintances can never substitute for the emotional strength you can draw from your family, we all had opportunities to share in each others' faith. I got to know my entire extended family in a way that I'd never thought possible. Such intense trials are proving grounds for everyone involved. Not only did Amy show incredible faith and devotion, but almost all of my family did.

The results are still visible today. It's a lot easier to get us all together, and there's an undefinable change in the feeling every family gathering has. We're all just closer. I have better relationships with all of my cousins and aunts and uncles. I'll be honest, I used to prefer my mom's side of the family so much that I never wanted to hang out with the Jacksons. It sounds terrible, but it was true. In the past year, I have come to identify so strongly with my Jackson relatives that, for the first time in my life, I can honestly say I'll be a little bit sad to give up my name when I get married. My identity is tied to my heritage in a way that goes back further than just my parents and our name. I truly love my family--all of it--in that celestial, forever kind of way. And, for me at least, it started with Amy. Her struggles bound me to my extended family with so much love and attachment that I can't ever imagine life without them.