Good Idea. Bad Idea.

Good Idea:

Making buttercream frosting to go with your sugar cookies

Bad Idea:

Putting 7 cups of granulated sugar in the recipe that calls for confectioner's sugar

A Cold Night and a Warm Heart

Last night my husband and I were invited to see the lights at Temple Square with my sister and her family. Of course we couldn't resist an invitation to see the reactions of my sister's cute, little monkeys. They met at our house and waited patiently while I put on the layers of thermal, fleece, and cotton. Topped off with some synthetic goose down. The boys were so excited and kept asking when we were going to see baby Jesus.

We headed for the cars and the two year-old said to me, plain as day, "You guys going to follow us to the temple?" Off we went. We parked the car and got the kidlets piled into their plastic, Graco chariot. The boys looked so silly in their puffy, marshmallow coats, hats with ear flaps, and mittens that couldn't actually come down far enough on their wrist because of their coat sleeves. The two year-old look at me and said in his excited voice, "We're going to go in the TEMPLE." I was so sad to have to break the news that he couldn't actually go in the temple.

We walking around Temple Square and helped the boys reach all of the lights that they wanted to touch. They kept asking where baby Jesus was, which we were saving for the end. Finally, we began making our way to the nativity scene that lights up and has some narration and music that plays every few minutes. I was holding hands with the four year-old when we heard the music playing as we got closer to the nativity. He yelled, "Let's go see Jesus!" And he pulled me along even faster. It was at this point that I realized he might think that we were actually going to see the real baby Jesus. He kept pulling me and every now and then, he'd look up at me and ask, anxiously, "Where's Jesus!?" This pulled at my little heart strings and my eyes started to well up with tears. This little, innocent child and his brother don't know a lot of things yet in this life, but the all ready know the significance of Christ. He was so excited to see Jesus. That's all he really wanted to see the whole night. What a touching little moment. We have so much to learn from little kids. It's no wonder the scriptures urge us to be child like. I hope we can all find Jesus this Christmas season, whether it's on Temple Square or in our hearts.

MERRY CHRISTMAS!

A Presidential Slap in the Face

In recent months I have become more involved in the happenings of federal government than usual. There are a few reasons for this change:

1. For the past few months (though they've felt like years), I have been working on a government textbook. I have come to understand so many interesting and useless bits of information about government. I might actually know more than I'd ever care to know.
2. I am supremely interested in the health care debates, as I am someone who is ever dependent on my health insurance. Probably much more so than most people my age.
3. And during mental breaks at work, I seem to find my way to the New York Times website.

Keeping up to date on political issues can be addicting and exhausting all at the same time.

So last night as my darling and I sat down to relax and watch the tube, you can image how intrigued I was to discover that the Oprah "Christmas at the Whitehouse" Special was being aired.

Oprah's tour/interview began in the oval office where president Obama presented his Christmas tree and shared thoughts on what he enjoys most about living in the Whitehouse, "The people's house," as he called it. (It's hardly the people's house, as few people get to enjoy it much more than during a quick tour.)

Next, Oprah met up with the First Lady, who was all but bedazzled. She wore giant diamond earrings and a large, pearl necklace that gathered to a diamond pendant. She did look lovely, but I couldn't get past her flashy accessories. She took Oprah on a tour of the Whitehouse to show her the many, many Christmas trees, garlands, and other LAVISH decorations. Now, don't get me wrong. I know it's tradition to decorate the Whitehouse in a beautiful fashion. But during a time of such economic crisis, don't you wonder if having personal decorators work on the place for FIVE straight days is a little less than necessary?!

I'm not naive enough to think that if the First Family took all the money that would have been used in decorating the Whitehouse and applied it to the federal deficit, that it would make any difference. BUT at a time like this, how can the First Family sleep at night knowing that our whole nation is suffering financially, many people are without jobs, homes, food, and other means of survival, yet they have DOZENS of Christmas trees, personal decorators, and a HUGE gingerbread Whitehouse created by any number of personal chefs?

As the interview went on, Barack and Michelle bantered about the cost and flashy-ness of Michelle's jewelry and her taste for fine things. When asked what would be different at the Whitehouse this year during Christmas season, Michelle responded, "We'll be having more parties." Then she went on to describe the 50,000 some odd guest list.

I am floored. And a little bit angry. During a time of financial crisis, when our national unemployment rate is at 10%, our government is participating in RECORD spending (which we will pay for), we're financing a decade-long war, and the average American is going without, the "most powerful" family in the world is flaunting their lavish life style in the faces of Americans. How do you think that makes us feel? The local food bank estimated that they would be empty by the end of the month. A national food drive campaign was organized to help the needy. Friends and family members are doing more this year for needy families than ever before... and the whitehouse is hosting more parties.

Shame on you.

During an opportunity to inspire the American public with a heart-warming Christmas message and examples of ways to give back to the country, the First Family failed. How different would our nation be if instead of seeing clips of bragging about gift-giving, and efforts to make the Whitehouse transformed into an elaborate Christmas village, clips were shown about things the First Family was doing to give back, ways they're simplifying their lifestyle during this time, or commitments they're making to help more people? Lead by example. The impact that the "most powerful" family could have had by doing something selfless and humble, something centered around integrity, during that special is immeasurable. Think of the trend that could be set by Obama to his many loyal followers if he chose to keep things simple this year. To save some money, give back, cancel hosting a party that will cost the people millions of dollars.

I guess the old adage applies to financial problems, too. "Out of sight, out of mind." Well, Obamas, I hope you have a great holiday living high on the hog this year, while us average Americans work our butts off to pay off the debt that you will leave us with for years to come. Happy holidays to you too.

It's Funny Because It's True

Let me preface this by saying that I do NOT endorse anything affiliated with the Twilight series.

Anyone who has been in a single's ward anytime in the past 10 years can probably appreciate this movie... TOO FUNNY! Prepare to ROFL and stuff.

Twilight Years from Tom on Vimeo.

Don't Let Your Wives See This...

... because then you're going to get an earful.

This morning I rolled (or fell, rather) out of bed. I trudged my way downstairs to eat some Cheerios. I took time to take in the scenery. The dishwasher was full of clean dishes. Some dishes sat in the sink with remnants of last night's pudding. And random pieces of mail and other paper items were scattered from here to there. So, of course, I walked past all of the scenery and made my way to the shower. After a nice, super long, super hot shower, I felt almost ready to face the world. I walked into the bedroom. The bed was made—blankets neatly folded at the foot of the bed. I walked to the kitchen—It was clean, and the dishes were being put away as I walked by. I took a few minutes to make myself somewhat presentable for work and walked downstairs to gather my things—My car had been started, scraped off, and was waiting for me.

Ahhhhh.... this is the life.

Now some people say, "Oh, you're newlyweds. This will wear-off soon."

Nope. I've known this man for 4 years, and this is how he's always been. As friends, we went with a group of people to stay at a cabin. Guess who was up before everyone else making breakfast for the group. Guess who stood out in the pouring rain to grill the chicken for everyone for dinner. As a friend, guess who started mine and other friends' cars for them so they'd heat up for a cold, winter drive. That's right, my husband. He's just that kind of guy. Always has been. Always will be. Hate me if you want. Or find one for yourself (unless, of course, you're married.)

How did I get so lucky?

Ch-ch-ch-Changes

A few weeks into marriage and I'm noticing some big changes all ready. The biggest of which has been the switch from a "pre-marriage ward" (a.k.a. singles' ward) to a family (a.k.a. retirement ward). No, I'm not joking about the retirement. The boundaries of our current ward include a retirement community, a small neighborhood of condominiums, and a small set of townhomes.

So essentially, I will be going from this:

U32 Ward End of Year Slideshow - 2009 from Tanner Christensen on Vimeo.

To this:

Yikes.

A Time for Sharing

So the husby and I are looking for some new traditions to start this holiday season. We have only thought of a few so far. Those include:

• Exchanging new pajamas each Christmas Eve
• Sleeping under the Christmas tree (he doesn't care so much for this one... especially since we have a Charlie Brown Christmas tree)
• Making Dutch Babies Christmas morning (some family tradition from his father involving yummy pastries)

As you can see, our list is rather lacking.

What do you do?

What should we do?

I can't wait to hear your ideas!

May You Never Have to Buy Another Christmas Album

Here it is... a masterpiece that's been years in the making: My Christmas playlist.

Enjoy!

I'd like to take this opportunity to cry.

I'm sitting at my desk in my office, drinking Diet Coke, snacking on Sixlets (mostly just the orange ones) and Hot Tamales which I began eating at 9:00am, and listening to Jimmy Eat World's "Last Christmas" on repeat. My eyes are puffy from crying for almost 10 straight hours yesterday and I'm so tired.

Last night I had a dream that a gal pal of mine was over at my parent's house visiting with me and my mom who happened to be in just her underwear. We realized we'd left the front door open and a man named Paul Bunyan, who looked eerily similar to Santa Clause, slipped in the front door while his wife who was almost 7 feet tall like her husband waited on the porch. I refused to believe that he was Paul Bunyan and I ran upstairs to call 911 on my cell phone. After a few attempts, because I couldn't remember the number, I finally got through to the dispatcher— Donny Osmand. He told me to believe in this man; if he said he was Paul Bunyan, he probably was. Then he closed the conversation with an inspiring line that I don't remember exactly. It was something like, "Chase your dreams. Which I recognized in my dream as the title of his just-released biography. I hung up on Donny, angry. I marched downstairs to find Paul Bunyan had made friends with my family. I was angry and kicked him out. He then lifted our house off the ground and set it back down on its side to prove to me he was, indeed, Paul Bunyan. I felt horrible for not believing him and ran after him as he was leaving to beg his forgiveness... he immediately transformed into Santa Clause and told me to be a good girl this year.

That's about how my brain is functioning these days. I am a zombie. My whole life is changing. Everything I know and have known for years will be different. I am completely in love with T.M.I.G.T.M. and couldn't ever imagine being with anyone else or trying to live without him. But marriage is hard, and scary. I never wanted to be married until I met T.M.I.G.T.M. Never. This is a huge paradigm shift, and it came rather quickly. My logical brain isn't sure what to do with all this change and these emotions. It's really hard. And I cry a lot, which I never have before. I know how to be single, I'm good at it. I don't know how to be married— trying new things makes me uneasy. My brain is mush and I feel like I can't completely be my normal self until I've settled into this transition. I so badly want normal life. And normal dreams, for that matter.

Here's to the wedding being over and hoping for a speedy mental recovery from all of the change!

The First Real Date

For those of you who have been following my story, I want to apologize for the delay and excite you for the next installment... about my first date with T.M.I.G.T.M. If you have no idea what I'm talking about, you should probably call in sick to work and invest a few good hours in reading the following posts. Then we can talk.

The Meeting

The Friendship (Phase the First)

The Friendship (Phase the Second)

The Evolution

Also, if you're wondering what on earth T.M.I.G.T.M. stands for, I can clear that up as well:

The man I'm going to marry.

I'm avoiding using his name in an effort to preserve some privacy in my life. Not that sharing every intimate detail about my life on this public blog helps my case much. But it's like eating a slice of wheat bread for every five slices of white bread- it at least makes me feel like I'm trying.

And now, to begin today's story, "The First Real Date." May the spirit of Dean Martin's music assist me as I tell my story.

The night T.M.I.G.T.M. came to pick me up for our first date, I was so nervous. I had been all sorts of confused for so long about what I was feeling for him, though I knew I was feeling something. I was so excited to be going on a date, but was trying to remain level-headed in case it was just a friend date. I had been on one too many of those in my single lifetime. He picked me up and we went to dinner at a local hot spot, Mexican restaurant. I was a little apprehensive about chowing down on the chips and salsa like I really wanted to— I was nervous. I never got nervous around T.M.I.G.T.M.!! We had our usual pleasant conversations before and during dinner, but it just seemed so surreal that I was on a date with my friend of all these years. I wasn't sure where to place my thoughts and feelings. Then we went to his place where he said he had a surprise. My mind was racing. I was hoping that he wasn't going to do something over-ambitious like so many other boys had done in the past— something too big that assumes a relationship, when I wasn't sure what I was thinking/feeling. But I was also hoping that it was something telling; something to let me know he had interesting in dating me.

We walked into his back yard as he carried a number of pillows and blankets. My mind was everywhere from, "Geeze, this is awfully bold of him to do something involving pillows and blankets on our first date," to, "I hope whatever this is will give me an opportunity to be close to him and test the waters with flirting." He laid out the blankets and set the pillows down. He was grinning from ear to ear and kept checking his watch. He reassured me that it should be happening any time now. I half expected his roommates to crawl out of the bushes in costumes or something. But, alas, after a few minutes, I heard a loud boom that shook the earth and saw any number of colors bursting in the sky. He turned to me and said, "This is to make up for the fireworks we didn't get to watch together on the 4th of July."( In case you forgot, that was the night he left me to sit with another girl.)

We laid back to enjoy the show. I was careful to lay close to him, but not too close as to seem presumptuous. At one point he offered his shoulder for me to lay on. So I did, but kept my body at about a 45• angle away from his. I was not going to make a fool of myself if we were just friends! The show ended and we stayed out back to talk and check out the beautiful, clear night sky. Somehow we both ended up on our stomachs searching the sky for the little dipper, whose location we couldn't seem to agree on. He would lean in close to point out different constellations to me and I'd find myself wondering, "Is he going to kiss me?" But then he'd pull away and continue to talk... and I'd feel silly for wondering. I had decided after some time outside that it was a wonderful date, but that he was by no means going to kiss me that night. I was silly to think he might. It was, after all, the first official date he has asked me on for which I had consented to join him.

Then just a few moments later, as he pointed out another possible location for the little dipper, he leaned in close to show me, then lifted my chin and kissed me. That's right, we kissed on our first real date. And it was wonderful. But it was four years in the making, so I think it was justified. I couldn't believe that I was kissing my friend. It was strange and wonderful all at the same time. Later, T.M.I.G.T.M. would tell me that he was waiting for me to lean back and smack him, telling him that we were just friends! Now I kind of wish I would have.... :)

And that concludes my version of our first real date... or at least all what I'm going to share with you. Stay tuned for the next installment, "The Courtship (Shorter Than Most, But Long Over Due)."

Until next time, Interweb.

The More You Read, The More You Know... Sometimes.

For some reason, I feel this need to try to go against the grain of what people would expect an "average" girl my age, in my circumstances to do. I don't know why. I don't know what I feel like I've had to prove.

The Harry Potter series hit its climax while I was in college. Though it's not a "girly" series, by any means, every girl I knew was knee deep in Potter hysteria. I refused to read it— until I taught elementary school. It was a survival skill I needed to remain hip with the kiddos. And I liked the series okay, especially the third book. But I won't admit that to many people.

Then there was the whole college scene of dating and every girl acting like she wanted only to meet boys, date, and find a boyfriend. I made sure I acted like I didn't care whether or not I dated, didn't care much about the boys I dated, and didn't hurt much when things ended badly— though I always felt more than I let on.

And so this instinct of mine, to defy what people would expect of me (though I don't always want to), has stuck with me over the years. And every once in a while, there is a trend that I'm truly, honestly, okay not following. One of which would be the Twilight craze. I love to read, almost as much as I love to eat Muddy Buddies, snuggle with my nieces and nephews, or write about my droning life events on here. But I simply cannot bring myself to read that series. After growing up on books like "Babysitter's Club," and "Sweet Valley High," I made a vow to myself to only read real, enriching literature after I was finally introduced to it in my high school years.

On my quest to become well-read with the classics, I was encouraged to read Orwell's "1984" by a number of people. I was told it would give me a lot to think about and that it was almost unheard of to not have read it, if I were to claim to be a fan of the classics. So, while in a book shop in Sienna this summer, I picked it up for the long, lonely journey home. (Which didn't end up being so lonely, thanks to a drunken Patrick Swayze look-alike in denim shorts and Dr. Martens boots. That's a story for another day.) Anyhow, I eventually read the book and eventually regretted it. It was a regurgitation of the many books written after it's kind. I should have re-read "Anthem" to get the same "Down with Big Brother" ideals in a much shorter page count, and with many fewer sexual references.

Since completing that book, I haven't had much time for reading... until this last week since I've been sick. I needed a light read. Something full of hope and big words on the page (I had a head ache). I picked up a book I'd purchased from the notorious book orders when I was a teacher and decided to give it a whirl. I knew the author's other books were about princesses and girls coming of age, but I needed something to read, and decided to tell no one I was reading this girly book. But I read it, in under a 12 hour period. Don't be too impressed, the print is quite large. It was written by a local author, Shannon Hale. And it was a well-written book loosely based on a Grimms fairy tale. It was absolutely wonderful. So much so that I publicly recommend it to you:

Book of a Thousand Days

And now, before I can bring myself to return to the world of Hawthorne, Orwell, Melville, and Thoreau, I return to my beloved copy of "Emma." Because it's okay to enjoy a girly book now and then... especially if it's written by an author acclaimed for her talents in capturing human emotions, the anguish of the clash of classes, and the essence of life in her time... and not some silly romance novel based on tension between demonic icons and frivolous girls with no backbones. (I know this, for I saw the first movie... as a favor to my best friend. For which she will be forever indebted to me).

Read on, Interweb. Read on.

May you find yourself engrossed in good literature. The kind that expands your mind, teaches you new things, and makes you a little more interesting. Because, hey, who wouldn't want to be a little more interesting?

I Have This Effect on People...

And just when you think you've figured it out....

Which reminds of a similar incident in the past...

My New Favorite Song...

My day just got a whole lot better

What a crappy morning and day so far. I feel like my head is going to spin off and I have to much to do before the wedding and not enough time to do it.

BUT

Thank you Cadbury for making Christmas candies.

Thank you retail chains for stocking Christmas candies at a ridiculously early time.

Thank you Albertsons for keeping your shelves fully stocked... and for answering you phone and confirming that the shelves were stocked before I made my journey.

Thank you car for getting me to the store in a safe and timely manner.

Thank you taste buds for working so well and recognizing delicious and creamy things.

Thank you metabolism for burning through this entire bag of eggs quickly. (This won't actually happen... but a girl can dream....)

Good-Bye, Old Friends

Today I say good-bye to a few friends that have meant a lot to me over the years. I have been very close to them and during almost all moments of my life have been inseparable.

Good-bye to the blue with yellow and pink stars, hot pink, days of the week-style, "Laughing Out Loud," boy-fit style, and my personal favorite, wide red and white stripes. You know who you are and what you've meant to me over the years.

If you are confused by this post, that's probably for the best. It's meant to be cryptic. If you understand this post, you, too, have made the change. I couldn't be more excited.

Oh, Now I'm Just Angry

Apparently my last post was part of a trend in my blogging circle. Some friends of mine and I have been on a similar angry wave length within just a few short days of each other. If you're feeling angry and you need to laugh at someone else who is frustrated, please go here, or here.

I have just one more rant to add to my list of things I hate... just one more, I promise. Then I'll TRY my hardest to be un-grumpy. Though I make no promises.

Imagine that you don't feel so well. You're not dying or anything, but you certainly don't feel well. And maybe you haven't for a long time because your stupid so-called "doctor" let your little problem go unattended for so long that it escalated into a full-blown issue. (I'm using a lot of hyphens lately, aren't I? I apologize ahead of time if they start to get out of hand.)

So then you go see a new doctor who actually deserves his degree and his job, and who happens to have a personality, which doesn't hurt when you're working with people. Oh, and he's not creepy and doesn't have the molester vibe that the former doctor had. This new, smart doctor finds the issue and gives you lots of prescriptions to take to nip the issue in the bud (or is it butt?).

Anyhow, let's say you then take your prescriptions to be filled and when you pick them up the pharmacy tech says something to you along the lines of, "Did your doctor say anything to you about the price of the blah, blah, blah medicine?"

"No, why? How much is it?"

"Well, it looks like your insurance knocked $600 off the price, so you only have to pay about $370."

At this point you can't say what you're thinking or what you really want to say. You just politely say, "I won't be picking that prescription up today, I think I'll take my chances at dying. Thank you."

Would you be mad??!?!? I think you would. Because as I imagine this very thing happening to me, I get very angry! But I have a very vivid imagination.

On a completely unrelated note, I just wanted to say that I think our health care system is in tip-top shape. I'm couldn't be more pleased with the services offered to me and the fairness in pricing. [Insert sarcastic tone and eye roll.]

Things I'm Learning to Hate

Having my picture taken all by myself (group photos are okay)

Photogenic people

Being the center of attention in a big group (wedding showers, etc.)

Eating KFC

Discovering spiders when my mom isn't there to kill it for me

Planning a wedding (yep, I still hate it)

Bad customer service (seriously, what is with people these days)

Feeling like you had a diva moment and not knowing how to apologize for it

Not being able to fall asleep at a decent hour and then being tired all the next day

Diet Coke (which happens to be a necessity for remaining awake at a desk job)

Under-qualified doctors who let problems go unattended to

Seeing labels like "Megan and I" under pictures— It's "Me and Megan"

Opening up Pandora to hear a long song list of artists I've never, ever heard of

Arriving on time to a 6:15 am doctor appointment and not being seen by the doctor for almost an hour

And I think that's about it for my complain-amony . My next post will be entitled "Things I'm Learning to LOVE," just for you!

Oh. Boy.

You know those nights when you can't sleep... and you find yourself looking at an entire photo album of a friend of a very distant friend's on facebook... and you find yourself making judgement calls about the complete strangers in the album... Like, "Oh, she looks nice," "I'll bet those two are a couple," OR "I can't believe someone wore that outfit" (hey, I never claimed to be perfect)? Well, tonight, as I was doing just that, I came across a photo album of ridiculously beautiful girls in photos taken in various locations around Europe. And then I saw THIS caption under one of the photos:

"Chateau D'iff (spelled incorrectly)- the location of one of my favorite movies."

And then I had this imaginary conversation with this dolled-up girl that was full of frustration as I yelled in my head, "WHAT ABOUT THE BOOK? You know, the classic. The one with pages and words that you read... with your brain. Oh, you had no idea there was a wonderful, timeless, compelling book written before the movie? Because there was.... and it was written LONG before. Let me introduce you to what we simple folk like to call a 'library.' "

And then I decided I'm ornery and I should go to bed.

But seriously. You should read the book- if you haven't already.

And now you understand why...

A few people have asked me why I'm not wearing my mother's wedding dress.

Behold the answer....

Survey Says....

Well, that's what I'm hoping to find out!

I need YOUR help!

Calling all music lovers. I am developing a playlist of songs to play while guests arrive at and leave the wedding dinner, and a list of songs to play for dancing after dinner.

Here's the criteria: songs must have been written and recorded prior to 1970, and preferably around 1960. I need timeless, not over-played, non-cliché love songs (I know, I set the bar impossibly high sometimes). I would love your suggestions, particularly in the dancing genre (slow and fast).

A little photo to get you in the romanticy-song mood:

Kissy, kissy

I have $1500, therefore, I am a photographer.

Just because you have a nice camera, doesn't mean you are a photographer.

[Disclaimer- this does not apply to people I know and associate with. Everyone I know is talented and wonderful. This is, of course, geared to the general public.]

I feel like I should just leave my post at that, but I still have lots of venting to do. This post has been months, possibly years, in the making.

Everyone is a photographer these days, have you noticed? This seems to be the case particularly in the state I live. There are a lot of stay at home moms (or wives) who start up little photography businesses. This has become a HUGE trend. Some are good. A few are great. Many are terrible. Buyers beware! Don't be fooled by the fact that a "photographer" has a fancy blog, or that they seem to have taken many, many pictures. You would be surprised how many terrible photographers stay busy with work. LOOK AT THE PICTURES. I encourage you to go with photographers who have actual websites. However, there are exceptions. For example, this friend of mine has a photo blog and takes wonderful pictures! Notice how clear the images are of peoples' faces and how she captures fun details of the events she photographs. LOOK AT THE PICTURES.

I have another friend who is a stay at home mom/photographer who uses a blog. LOOK AT THE PICTURES. You can see how sharp they are, how she focuses on the people in the pictures and not on the settings around them. The people should be the focal point.

These are pictures of your kids, your family, your life, your memories. You want them to be timeless. Ask yourself, would I like to look at these pictures in 50 years? 5 years? I am so done with the "cool locations," odd poses, saturated or desaturated editing. Pictures should look like the people in them.

Think of National Geographic photos. There are no people by train tracks in their photos, no funky coordinating outfits, no depressed-looking faces on people trying to look like models. Think of the timeless photos from TIME Magazine. The colors are natural, the locations are natural. Take pictures to record events. Hire people to take your pictures who will capture your moments the way that they happened. Because artsy-fartsy photos might seem like a good idea now, but on your 10th anniversary, you're going to wish you could go back in time and slap your photographer upside the head. Pictures capture memories of natural events in our lives. Please hire wisely.

Thank you.

[Steps off soap box]

A Page From the Doctor's Book

Sometimes I can be really hard on myself for mistakes I make, flaws that I have, or problems that I'm dealing with. For some strange reason, this is a trait that women deal with to a greater degree than men. But today, TODAY I celebrate my imperfections!

Thank heavens for my crooked teeth, my thighs, my inability to make quick decisions, and my lack of concentration at work.

How boring would it be if my face were perfectly symmetrical, my body was flawless, my mind was always immediately made-up, and I worked non-stop for 8 hours a day without breaking my concentration?!? Everyone would expect me to look flawless all of the time— I would rely on fleeting looks and not on my brain. I wouldn't be able to take input from loved ones on important decisions. And I would be even more high-strung at work than I usually am! I would have nothing to work on, no room to improve, no building of my character to be had. How tragic! How sad for all the nearly perfect people in the world.

Today I make a big step in building my self worth. Today I celebrate my flaws (which are many... too many to list, in fact.) Today I don't care what anyone else thinks about me. Today I am happy and content. Today I am just me, and that's good enough.

"Today you are you!

That is truer than true!

There is no one alive...

...who is you-er than you!

Shout loud, “I am lucky

to be what I am!

Thank goodness I’m not

just a clam or a ham

Or a dusty old jar of

sour gooseberry jam!

I am what I am! That’s a

great thing to be!

If I say so myself,

HAPPY EVERYDAY TO ME!”

-Dr. Seuss

Stay Tuned...

Dear Interweb,

I am sorry that I have neglected you as of late. And I'm sorry to leave you hanging without the rest of the details of my story I've been telling. Work and other things have consumed my every moment... including moments usually spent on blogging. A travesty, I know. But never fear, I will soon write the end of my story. Although, I must admit that finishing with, "... and the rest is history" did cross my mind.

Also, I heard the all too familiar sound of Canadian geese flying south for the winter this morning. Which can only mean one thing, that they were flying south for the winter. I hate winter. Especially in my state, blah. Here's to hoping for a swift and mild winter!

Talk to you soon,

Megan

The Evolution

Post-Europe friendship was different than our friendship had ever been. T.M.I.G.T.M. and I spent more time on the phone 'til the wee hours than ever before. We were communicating more and more during the work day (don't turn me in). I began to feel as if my day wasn't complete unless I'd talked to T.M.I.G.T.M. Then there was my super fun birthday dinner with a big group of my friends. T.M.I.G.T.M. was out of town on a project for work and I was sad the whole time that he wasn't there. I went home and spent a couple hours chatting with him at the end of the night. We talked about the girl(s) he was dating. I was still genuinely interested. And we talked about the boy(s) I was dating. He was genuinely interested. But mostly we just talked about dating and how much easier it would be if the people we dated shared our views and opinions on dating. I remember getting off the phone and thinking to myself, "It's a shame T.M.I.G.T.M. and I could never work out."

A week or two later I realized that an event for which I had purchased tickets for months earlier, was the following weekend. T.M.I.G.T.M. helped me work up the courage to ask a boy to go with me... a boy that I didn't know well, but was a friendly acquaintance at church. I had thought the boy was a cutie for some time. I asked him to join me, but he informed me he was going to be out of town that weekend. I was almost relieved that the boy couldn't go. I approached T.M.I.G.T.M. after an Institute class and said (very smoothly, I'm sure), "Would you want to go with me? I really want to go with you. I should have asked you to begin with." At this point I was surprised by two things: the realization that I really only wanted to go with T.M.I.G.T.M., and the positive, excited response which he gave.

The day of the concert came and I was so excited. I made us some treats (yes, Muddy Buddies) and got ready to go. T.M.I.G.T.M. came to pick me up and we were off. We met my sister and her boys at the concert. We sat on the lawn and enjoyed a wonderful concert. I laughed so much that night. I was impressed as T.M.I.G.T.M. took my nephews at intermission to get them hot chocolate. It felt so natural and so fun that T.M.I.G.T.M. and I should be on a date. It didn't really hit me until the ride home when I was hit with the tireds quite like I've never experienced. I rested the long drive home while he took care of me and drove us home. I felt very content.

The next day, I still didn't think much of my feelings for T.M.I.G.T.M., but I knew that I wanted to see him. Just as I was thinking of him, he called my phone and made plans to go the fireworks with me that evening. He came by my house and I invited him to join my family (briefly) for some BBQ deliciousness. We left for the fireworks and met a large group of our friends. I laid our blanket out and struck up a conversation with some nearby friends. A few minutes later, I noticed that T.M.I.G.T.M. was not only gone, but seated by a cute girl (who I had been encouraging him to date). I felt weird. But I kept talking to avoid the feelings. Then the fireworks started and he came my way... just to get his jacket... then went back to sit by the cute girl. I wanted to cry and I didn't know why. I felt angry, sad, confused, all at the same time. Why did I care that my friend was sitting by a cute girl who I had been promoting to him? The fireworks ended and I gathered my things. T.M.I.G.T.M. came over to me to tell me how much fun he'd had sitting with the cute girl. My heart sank to the very bottom of my stomach. I was sure I was going to hurl. I immediately broke out in a nervous sweat. WHY DID I CARE? T.M.I.G.T.M. told me of the after party he was putting together, and I asked him if he minded taking me home first. I gave no explanation, just that I needed to go home. Then I immediately called my girl bff and freaked out!

The next week T.M.I.G.T.M. and his bff were gone for a few days hiking King's Peak. The morning he returned, he called me. He asked what I was doing that night, and I made up some options. I asked what he was doing. He replied with, "I'm going on a date." That response was followed by the longest awkward pause known to man. I took a second to gather my wits and remind myself that I was his friend. I then made a bold move. I asked him who his date was with, trying to sound as interested as I could. He replied, "With you."

The Friendship (Phase the Second)

The comfort of the casual friendship between T.M.I.G.T.M. and myself lasted for sometime. I always thought highly of him, but didn't think much more. Because we'd both had our many chances at dating, and our fate was sealed as friendship, or so I thought....

Sometime in 2007, T.M.I.G.T.M. and I started to spend more time together. We relied less on the group for our friendship and a little more on one another. We were friends— really, really good friends. Our chats started to be a little more revealing of our inner psyche, and my fondness for T.M.I.G.T.M. as an independent friend entity grew more and more. I began to go to him more with my boy problems and he came to me more with his girl problems. He earned himself the position of my go-to male friend whenever I needed a boy's perspective on any and everything. T.M.I.G.T.M. dated and had serious relationships with a girl or two during this phase. All the while, I was by his side as his friend. I knew I would get a phone call from him as soon as something of consequence happened in the relationships. I was happy to be there for him, because I genuinely cared for him. At this point, not once did I feel bad about not being an interest in his life. My role as his friend and confidant was satisfying as I made life-changing discoveries in my own life and changed career paths. I was thankful for the stability of his friendship during a time of change and upheaval in my life.

Last summer T.M.I.G.T.M. highly recommended that I date his bff and old college roommate, which I did. He was a great guy. He was similar to T.M.I.G.T.M. in so many ways that I automatically felt comfortable around him. In fact, it sometimes felt like I was dating a slightly altered form of T.M.I.G.T.M. We had a fun time dating. We went on double dates with T.M.I.G.T.M. and his girlfriend. It was really fun. I loved having my boyfriend and my best friend at the same time.

Months flew by, and trouble arose in paradise. I discovered that the bff and I weren't a permanent match. I couldn't ever put my finger on it, there was nothing wrong with this boy, but it was wasn't clicking in my head. All the while T.M.I.G.T.M. maintained his close friendship with me and my ex-boyfriend (his bff).

Even more months flew by, again, and I dated various boys, while T.M.I.G.T.M. dated the same girl. Sometime after that, T.M.I.G.T.M. broke up with the afore mentioned girl. I never did hear the details of the breakup because I was out of town, and I'm okay with that. All I know is that I came home from wherever I was and T.M.I.G.T.M. was ready to jump back into the single scene, and I was right by his side to support him. We continued on with the usual frienshipping, all the while, progressively spending more and more time together without even realizing it. Neither of us had intentions of dating one another at this point. We simply knew that dating sucked and we thoroughly enjoyed spending time together.

I specifically remember one night, last spring, in an Institute class when I sat next to T.M.I.G.T.M. I was having a handful of small boy troubles that were piling up to be super annoying. I passed a note to T.M.I.G.T.M. saying that I was going to take a leave of absence from my dating life while the dust settled. And he innocently wrote back, "What dating life?" I, of course, was offended as he hurried to explain that he wasn't aware of any dating activity going on in my life. I reassured him that there was plenty of dating going on, but that I just chose not to share. And then I pouted for a few hours.

About a month later, T.M.I.G.T.M. and his bff were planning a road trip to which I was explicitly not invited. However each of my best friends were. In a rage, I confronted T.M.I.G.T.M. in the hall after church and told him how absurd I thought it was that I wasn't invited on my ex-boyfriend's trip. And he proceeded to tell me that I was being a brat. From that moment, I began to notice T.M.I.G.T.M. in a slightly different light. He stood up to me. He called me on the carpet. None of my guy friends did that to me. I got away with being a brat all the time. But not with T.M.I.G.T.M.; he knew me. He knew that I was a brat and needed to be told that in order to understand the situation. Although I couldn't show it, I respected him more for standing up to me.

He went on the trip... kept on dating various girls. I went to Europe for a while... dated various boys. I received one email from T.M.I.G.T.M. while I was away in Europe... to inform me that he was dating a cute girl that knew me. Somewhere deep down inside of me, something began to simmer.... and I went on with my life.

I returned from Europe late on a Saturday evening. Because of the jet lag, I never slept that night and was up bright and early for church the next morning. I walked into the first meeting to find one empty seat next to T.M.I.G.T.M. I was greeted with a surprised look, a warm smile, and a big hug. I'll never forget that hug... though I didn't realize the significance of the hug at the time. Somewhere deep down, the flame began to grow just a little bigger.

And our friendship picked up right where it left off a month prior.

The Friendship (Phase the First)

My last installment of my love story, entitled, "The Meeting," recapped details about how the man I'm going to marry (T.M.I.G.T.M) and I met. Our story is, by no means, on its way to becoming the romance novel of the year. But it's our story and it's a good one. "The Meeting" ended with T.M.I.G.T.M asking me out a second time and being turned down (regretfully) because I was dating Butthead.

As the months went by and I continued to date Butthead, I didn't give much thought to T.M.I.G.T.M. I do know that I saw him every now and again at church and social functions. We small-talked here and there, nothing too memorable. I broke up with Butthead and was back in the single scene full-force. However, Butthead had taken a toll on my confidence and I was a bit skittish around boys. I actually started to become better friends with T.M.I.G.T.M.'s roommate and friend. Roommate and I enjoyed talking politics and opinions of higher ed policies. It was because of this friend that I actually started hanging out with T.M.I.G.T.M. A gal pal of mine would come along with myself and the two boys. The four of us hung out a number of times. We would go out to eat, sit around and chat, hit up parties, or play "The Game" (my made up trademark of a card game.)

As the group of us spent time together, I began to wonder if I had a crush on T.M.I.G.T.M. I wasn't too sure of myself at this time in my life. I wasn't sure if my interests were sincere, or if I was needy and emotional after the breakup. So I stuffed any thoughts of interest in T.M.I.G.T.M. into the back of my head. Plus T.M.I.G.T.M. seemed completely indifferent towards me. He was as nice to me as the next girl, but gave me no significant amount of attention or time. Over a number of months our friendship stayed neutral and somewhat removed. We called to notify one another of parties and other social events, but never to spend much time chatting or really getting to know each other. At one point in this phase, T.M.I.G.T.M. actually asked one of my good friends on a date. So I completely wrote him off.

It seemed as though I was content to be his not-too-close friend, and he was content to be mine. And we went on with our lives, dating various people, but not each other, always coming back to our friendship when the so-called relationships ended.

Everything I Need to Know About Dating I Learned from Bill Murray

"There are two types of people in this world: those who like Neil Diamond, and those who don't. My ex-wife loved him."

- Bill Murray as Bob Wiley

What About Bob?

"There are two types of single women in this world: those who chase, and those who are chased. Not to be confused with chaste."

- Megan [last name] as Megan [same last name]

Real Life

As I talk to single friends and reflect on my single life (all of a few weeks ago), I gather more and more evidence to support my theory on the two types of women.

I know, I know... I should stop giving my two cents about dating and move on to opinions on curtains and organizing closets. What can I say? Old habits die hard. Here's the thing, boys are attuned to telling the difference between these types of girls. They can see right through you! No amount of fake confidence can cover the fact that you are chasing a boy.

I hate to sound all June Cleaver, but by nature, men are hunters. Girls, let them hunt you. And by hunt, I mean call, date, love. Let the boy ask for your number, let HIM ask YOU out, let him follow up after the first date, let him kiss you, let him call and make future plans— Let him get the ball rolling. [There are a few exceptions to these guidelines... very few.] By taking on his role, you are emasculating him and you have become the easy kill. You are no prize to be won or fought for. There is no sense of pride and accomplishment in dating you. You are easy and disposable. He will date you until something better comes along and you will be crushed. And you won't get it. And you'll tell everyone what a jerk he is. But you, yes you, caused this problem by deciding to go against the laws of nature. It's okay to show interest in a boy. By all means, go talk to him at a party, at church, at the grocery store. Toss your hair, flirt with him... if he's shy, throw him a bone and give him your number (if you must.) But then walk away. Think of him no more. IF he's interested he will act. If he's not interested, he won't. And no amount of texts, social invitations, or touching his arm will change his mind. He either likes you or he doesn't. If he doesn't, swallow the difficult pill and move on to the next...

... the next one who will chase you! Be yourself. Be charming. Be attractive. Above all, be confident. There is not a darn thing wrong with you. Don't let that last boy take the wind out of your sails. There are a million factors involved in determining chemistry. It could have been something as simple as the fact that your perfume triggered bad memories of an mean, old neighbor in his subconscious memory. YOU are not the problem. It was just bad luck, and life. Pick a new interest. Be honest with yourself and try to pick one that is similar to you or one that is already noticing you. If nothing else, have interest in him simply for the sake of having interest in someone. The very worst thing that could happen would be that you might date him and find out you like him, or you date him and find out you don't. Show interest in the boy. Be intriguing. Be smart, funny, and HAPPY around him so that each time you walk away from a conversation with him he is left thinking, "What is it about her? I can't wait to talk to her again." Nobody likes a Debbie Downer... not the clerk at the grocery store, not your co-workers, and certainly not the boy you have interest in. If you're not happy or confident, fake it until you make it. You will be single as long as you are unhappy and lack confidence. When you gain that confidence and slap that smile on your face, he will chase you. And so will others. There is nothing more attractive to a boy than a woman with confidence. Ask yourself this question: If you were a boy, would you want to date you? Would you have fun on a date with you? When you can answer yes to both of those questions, you will be chased, and not the chaser.

Until next time...

Showered With Gifts... And Attention

Last night was my very first bridal shower. Three of my very best friends threw this party for me. I call it a party because we laughed the whole time and ate lots and lots of delicious sweets! I have always dreaded any kind of shower (except the kind that keeps you clean and covers the bathroom mirrors with steam)... even my own bridal showers. But this was SO FUN!

I have to admit, though, that I think this cultural tradition of ours is very, very odd. First of all, after mingling a bit and eating some goodies, everyone sat down in a circle and stared at me. I felt a little like a circus monkey or at the very least a winter window display at Macy's. I had an almost completely captive audience of good friends who suddenly acted as though they were hearing me speak for the very first time. I like attention as much as the next gal, but not of this magnitude. Then my cute friends who threw the shower shared a funny video of my fiancé answering questions... which lightened the mood and made us all laugh really hard. (Don't tell him, it'll go right to his head.)

THEN the strangest thing happened... everyone started handing me gifts, for no reason other than my pending nuptials! I felt so silly. I should have accomplished something or won an award to merit that kind of attention and those kinds of gifts. Even today, I feel a little silly and spoiled. Perhaps I'll go do something big and noble today, so I feel like I've earned all the doting. Then again, I'm sick, AND pretty busy today... so maybe tomorrow... or the next day....

I forgot to take pictures until almost all the guests were gone. Luckily, I got some of my BFFs. The others are just going to have to recreate the night so we can get proof that they were there.

Some of my best friends...

Oh, the memories we share!

When you're as cool as Michelle, you carry a film camera at all times.

This little stud had all the guest eating out of the palm of his hand...

or was it the other way around?

And our little night owl stayed up later than she has in years...

that's how much she loves me! ;)

Thanks for the wonderful evening, friend-Os!

Cloudy With a Chance of Me Seeing that Movie Again

Last weekend, I went with my entire family to see, "Cloudy With a Chance of Meatballs." Since there are so many wee ones in my family, I've accepted the fact that if ever we head to the theaters, we are going to see a silly, mildly entertaining kids' show. However, I am pleased to announce that I was pleasantly surprised by this movie! It delivered the perfect balance of silliness and action sequences for kids, and witty, not so obvious humorous elements for adults. I laughed— a whole lot. I was almost embarrassed at how much I laughed. Maybe it's my love for food and giant babies... I don't know. But I recommend this movie to YOU. And the good news is that it beat out, "The Informant" by almost tripling its revenue. Maybe America does still have morals, after all...

Of course, seeing this movie only made me EVEN MORE excited (if that's at all possible) for the upcoming release of another children's book-based movie! Don't act like you don't know what I'm talking about!

In other news, I am home from work, sick in bed. I sure love those little kidlets in my life... even when they carry communicable diseases. My immune system was most likely weakened by my weekend menu.

Saturday

Breakfast: Ben's Cookies

Lunch: Chadders

Dinner: Movie Theater popcorn and Little Caesar's Pizza

[Side note: This was my wedding dress shopping day. Maybe not the best idea I've ever had.]

Sunday

Lunch: Leftover Pizza

Dinner: Muddy Buddies and Turkey Steak

Inquiring Minds Want to Know

[Awaiting results of pending couch purchase.]

The Meeting

Many people ask you how you met your fiancé once they hear you're engaged. I'm not sure if it's something they really care to know, or just one of those things you ask as as a formality. At any rate, here's the story... according to me:

It was a dark, cold, stormy night... Okay, that's not completely true. But it very well could have been because it was December, almost 4 years ago in 2005. I had graduated from WSU the spring prior and was almost half way through my first year of teaching 3rd grade. One weekend night in earlyish December, a couple gal pals and I decided to go to a holiday party to meet some cute, new single faces of the new singles ward of which we were attending. I was 22, in over my head at work, and not loving the idea of introducing myself into yet another "meat market" to be on display as one of the "new girls" in the ward. As soon as we arrived at the party, I found a nice spot of carpet where I could sit and be anti-social. A few boys who I had previously met stopped by my corner to say hello. I very nicely blew them off and continued to groom my section of the carpet with my hands.

Eventually, two nice-looking, friendly young men came over to join me on the carpet. It was obvious that they were good friends, and that they weren't going to just say hi and let me blow them off. They were a welcomed change of pace. One of the boys faded out of the conversation, and the boy who would eventually be my fiancé stuck around on the carpet for a good amount of silly, pointless, fun conversation. I don't remember much of the conversation other than the fact that he made me guess his last name, which I thought was ridiculous and hilarious, all at the same time. I left the party having met some nice people and didn't think any more about any of the encounters from that night.

A week or two later, I got a phone call from the boy who made me guess his last name. He confessed that he had asked my friend for my number and proceeded to ask me out on a date. I don't remember why or for what reason... but I was "busy" the night for which he requested my company. A month or two went by. I would see this boy at church, say hello and have some small talk here and there. One day after church, this same boy approached me and asked for my number, after he admitted he deleted it after the first attempt. This time I declined him again... because I was dating someone (who turned out to be a total butt head, by the way.) I remember feeling disappointed. It was a "gut" feeling. I was really surprised at how disappointed I was to not be able to go out with him— especially because I was dating a "great" guy and this boy wasn't a boy that I would have consciously picked out at that time in my life. I can still remember, today, that sick, disappointed feeling... and then blowing it off.

And over the course of the next almost 4 years, this boy and I became great friends. He wrote me off as a possibility and I figured I'd blown my chances with him. This allowed us to get to know each other without any pretenses about dating. And what a great blessing that has been to our relationship... to really know each other at our best and at our worst, before we ever started dating.

This concludes my version of "The Meeting." Please stay tuned for future installments of the story of how two friends fell in love.

Over the top?

All this frilly wedding planning stuff has got me thinking...

So I added a background to my blog. I think it's cute, but I feel kind of claustrophobic. It might just need some getting used to, or it might just drive me crazy. How do so many of you change up your backgrounds all the time? I hate change.

Look at me... growing up so fast and stuff.

A penny for your thoughts

I have been back and forth between wedding colors, and THIS is what I think I've come up with. The only problem is, will I be able to find flowers, ties, and other clothing items in a rust color. Thoughts?

My other option was going to be plum and dark chocolate. I think I might be starting to like that idea more and more....

Bow- WOW

One of my best friends in the whole world is disgustingly talented. She makes and sells hair bows and head bands for little girls. You can check out the goods on her blog. I tell ya, it's good to know talented people; my future daughters will have something feminine to adorn their possibly over-sized, bald heads.

Here is a sneak peak of what she makes:

SO CUTE, I KNOW!

Why I'm so glad I'm not longer meeting men...

And just in case you're thinking, "This can't be real." It more certainly is. Ask any single woman, and she can tell you a similar story... or two... or three....

Thanks, Janis, for passing this along.

Drum Roll Please....

For those of you who don't already know, THIS is who I am marrying:

November 21, in the Salt Lake temple

We have been good friends for almost four years. How (you might ask) do two good friends end up falling in love and getting married? Well, the answer is simple. And I will tell you... another day. I don't have time to get into the details right now, so stay tuned!

The Wedding vs. The Marriage

I want to be married to Dan— a lot. I don't want to plan a wedding. It's only been a week or so into the planning and I want to wash my hands of it and just twinkle into married life. I have never thought about a wedding, I'm just not one of those girls.

Apparently I have to have a wedding in order to be married. Would somebody please plan my wedding for me? Pretty, pretty please with a cherry on top!

Something New to Blog About...

For the past couple of years, I have been blogging about a lot of things: vacations, family, work, memories, but mostly dating. This blog has served as an outlet for each and every dating frustration of mine and of others. Let me take a moment to thank those who have endured my many dating-centered posts and especially those who left comments of empathy. And I do mean empathy. Dating is really difficult, and I think it's supposed to be that way. As my dad has always reminded me, nothing worth doing is easy. And to this phrase, dating has stayed true. But every once-on-a-while something good happens in dating to remind you why you're doing it in the first place. It isn't because you don't know anything different, it's because you want to find someone you love who loves you back. And that's not an unworthy goal— it's nothing to be ashamed of. It's easy to get lost in the dark abyss of first dates, dead-end relationships, and awkward break-ups and to forget to enjoy dating and to enjoy the search for someone to love.

[cue "Somebody to Love" by Queen]

I claim to be no expert on dating. I developed a talent of flying by the seat of my pants in dating over the years. Worked for me, but not the best option for everyone. However, I am please to announce that in addition to dating, I will now have a new topic of which to blog.... MARRIAGE! I'm engaged and I couldn't be happier about it. I will have all sorts of new adventures to post and new stories to tell.... and new insights on relationships. And for those of you who fear losing the enjoyment of my single life stories, never fear. I have kept years of journals and notes for just this purpose, entertaining you.

I have intentions of posting more details about the exciting news, but I can hardly keep my eyes open. So, stay tuned for juicy details of how two best friends fell in love (but not too mushy, 'cuz I'm just not that girl).

Photo- This

I have never been one to endorse businesses and such on here... BUT....

Check this out— A cute friend of mine from high school has a photography business. And it's well worth checking out. Visit here photoblog HERE to see her work. Her prices are reasonable and her pictures are absolutely wonderful! She hasn't been doing it long, but she's obviously a natural.

Check it out. You won't be disappointed.

Shoe Fly, Shoe

I have a problem. A real problem. And I think I might need help.

I have probably over 50 pairs of shoes. Really. And I only wear 4–5 of those pairs. The worst part is that I buy new ones to replace the worn, tattered, old pairs... and I still wear the old shoes. I have some sick emotional attachment to them.

For example, about two weeks ago, I bought a new pair of brown flip flops with some flowery-looking detail to replace these.

[insert picture of seven year-old brown leather flip flops with a flower print and worn foot marks]

I bought these on clearance when I was nineteen. Nineteen! They are obviously worn. If I don't hold my foot completely still in a certain position, you can see really stupid worn foot marks. However, these here shoes have been to Hawaii and on multiple trips to the California coast with me. Too many memories...

I have purchased a half dozen pairs of black flip flips over the course of the past few years. Yet, somehow, I still wear these.

[insert picture of seven-year old black flip flips with tearing straps and a chunk missing from one shoe]

I was given these for free when I worked at American Eagle... in 2002! They were also in Hawaii. And Island Park, Jackson Hole, St. George, California, Nevada, etc., etc. I can feel a permanent imprint of my foot when I slip them on my feet. I can also feel the ground when I walk in them. The straps are tearing from the shoe, and there is a chunk missing from the side of the left flop where a friend's dog took a bite out of crime... or out of my shoe. Not to mention, they're made of a spongey material and, well, they absorb things. You catch my drift. Yet I love them! And I wear them everywhere.

Then there was my other favorite pair of black flip flops that I only enjoyed for a short season.

[insert picture of moderately appealing black Roxy flip flops with pink hibiscus flowers on the heel]

They were well on their way to becoming the replacement of the afore mentioned black flops. I was just learning to love them, and was truly becoming attached to them, when they were violently (I can only assume, since I didn't actually see it happen) torn from the side pocket of my backpack in Europe this summer. Oh, if shoes could talk.....

THEN, there's these guys...

[insert picture of super cute brown hybrid trail shoes with pink detail]

Let's just say that this pair and I did NOT get along. And they met their fate in Spain, where I purposely left them to fend for themselves in the Madrid airport.... after spending a hundred dollars on them and only knowing them for 3 weeks. Hey, we all make mistakes.

Some people have emotional attachments to people, books, TV shows, friends, food. I have an emotional attachment to shoes— really old, worn shoes. And that's the way the cookie crumbles.

[images to come]