Kick boxing. 13 yr old boys. & other blessings.

Sitting here in the airport headed to Yakima, WA.

I have so much swirling around in this head of mine.
Probably should process a little more before I share.
Sometimes unprocessed sharing can be dangerous.

I'm loving my little Soul Boot Camp and I promise to share a little more (after the processing). I'm loving it because it's hard. But I'm also loving it because something inside of me is really changing and I'm so grateful.

That's a blessing.

Changing. For instance, I...me...Laurel...tried kick boxing this week. I'm STILL paying for it (I actually hurt in places I didn't know I had places). It was out of my comfort zone. And I looked like an idiot. And it was hard. And I didn't want to go. And I still did it.

That's a blessing.

And, perhaps the much needed moment of the week... I got VIP tickets to the BYU basketball game earlier this week. I was, of course, hoping date would pan out. What better way to impress a potential boyfriend than by showing him that occasionally I am good to know and well connected?!? But, alas, blind date didn't connect and I just didn't have it in me to work it too hard with anyone else.

But, come on...courtside seats!Third row! Free food! (no, I did not partake)

I knew I needed to use the tickets needed on someone who would really appreciate it. I found two someones.

This is Nick. He's my cousin's son.
He's 13. And he's a riot.Nick invited his friend Nate (because, really, the pressure of entertaining a 13 yr old by myself? TOO MUCH.)
And what is such a blessing about spending an evening with two 13 yr old boys?

Well, they are funny (or rather, they think everything else is funny).
They don't get stressed out (because they don't realize all there is to be stressed out about).
They didn't even notice my new blue sweater.
It was a break.
It was fun.
It was ridiculous.

And SO what I needed.
Now THAT'S a blessing.
(warning: what you are about to witness is me...with 2 13 yr old boys...becoming a 13 yr old myself. And no, I wasn't videotaping while I was driving. I would never do that!)

Sometimes the world just needs...

...a really good story.

Ungodliness

I know.
I don't like the word either.
But part of my Soul Boot Camp is all about that.
And it's not in the ways I've typically thought about the word.

"Yea, COME UNTO CHRIST,
and be perfected in HIM,
and DENY yourselves of all ungodliness..."
(Moroni 10:32)

Wait.
I thought this post was about "ungodliness".
Well, it is...kind of.

I recently noticed a cross reference to this verse...
"I beseech you therefore, brethren, by the mercies of God, that ye PRESENT YOUR BODIES A LIVING SACRIFICE (but that sounds like work), holy (HOLY), acceptable (ACCEPTABLE) unto God, which (oh, by the way) is your reasonable service." (Romans 12:1)

Just think about it for a little bit.

What in my life is ungodly?
What do I need to deny myself?
So that I can present myself holy...and acceptable.

There are a lot of things changing in my head.
So needed.
So finally.

But, for now, I have to get THIS soul to bed...
Boot Camp starts early again tomorrow morning.

I'm AT LEAST a bag of chips.

I said that to Tam on the way home from my blind date today.
TOTALLY nice guy...and of course, I'm grateful for any chance to get to know a good committed single guy these days.
And really, couldn't have been nicer.
But, no connection, you know?
My job, I decided, was to help him feel like a million bucks.
And I did a darn good job of that, if I do say so myself.
I can sure be a great lunch date.

But, (sigh)...

"And it's not like I think I'm 'all that'," I say to Tammy.
"But I'm AT LEAST a bag of chips."
And many more things did I say that caused us to laugh and cry but I couldn't replay the conversation here even if I wanted to.

BUT, I'm not just any bag of chips, mind you.
I'm not a Lay or a Pringle.
Certainly no Frito or Dorito.
No way. No how.

A Cheeto? Maybe. I do love me some Cheetos...and Cheetos are everything good about 2nd grade. And, really, wasn't 2nd grade great? (remind me to tell you a classic 2nd grade story about Brett and a teatherball competition...oh, it's a goodie.)

Cheetos(you know, I heard once that if you light one on fire, nothing happens to it...no kidding. try it) are kind of a unique chip. You might not choose to buy them, but when someone points out that a Cheeto is an option at a picnic or a party, you choose it.

Yeah, maybe I'm a cheeto (but I will burn if you light ME on fire. Please resist the temptation to try.).

But, I think I'm more like a Kettle chip.
You know, the really good dense potato chips that are full of flavor. And you can tell that there was a little more time spent on the chip than just your typical generic or "big brand" potato chip. You don't let yourself buy Kettle Chips at the store just on any trip there...no... because it's not an "everyday" chip. It's just kind of "special".
Yeah, I'm like a Kettle chip.

Looking for the perfect sandwhich to compliment.
And yes, this analogy is going nowhere fast.

But, people...really...
Shouldn't two people being set up have more in common than just being single?
And while I might not have been totally right about the "name profile" I gave him...because, really, he was SO nice...I just still trust my gut...about names...and voices...and hands.

So many other things to say, but Boot Camp is kickin' my behind and I have to be in bed...in my pjs...with face washed and teeth brushed by 10:30 so I can be up at 5:30. It's very intense, this self-imposed Boot Camp. And the sargeant (i.e. "me") is totally serious about it...so there is NO foolin' around.

But, I'll be back.
I seem to be totally in to this blogging thing this month.

(Hey and thanks for all the votes on the covers. I'm glad I'm not the only lurker in blog world...grin...but just a reminder if you didn't email me your name/address, me can't send you a book when they come out...so don't forget that part. xoxo.)

"Wha happent?"

I curled my hair SO cute today for church.
Super curly.
Super tight curls.
Super cute.

I was feelin' pretty good as I walked in and sat in the pew right behind one of my little nursery pun'kins.

He turned around and smiled when he saw me.
I loved that he knew I was "Sister C."

Until, he stood up and pointed at my hair,
saying, rather loudly RIGHT before the meeting started (just as it was quieting down):
"WHA HAPPENT?"

Suddenly, my hair didn't seem so "super cute".
Ben's cute mom quickly whispered, "Oh, Ben, isn't her hair pretty? Can you tell her it's pretty?"
But the damage had been done. (grin)
Seriously, what do you say to that?

(I feel like I might be asking the same question, though, after my blind date tomorrow...stay tuned...)

I think this is what's called a "give-a-way"

I kind of hate using this little space for some "research" like this but I know that there are people who read my blog who have access to teenage girls, who work with teenage girls, who WERE teenage girls just a little while ago...or who ARE teenage girls now.

AND, we (me & the Deseret Book mouse in my pocket) need your opinions (whether a teenage girl or not).

The following are some cover options for a little devotional book for teenage girls that will be coming out this summer. We want it to clearly be for them but not skew too young.

I have a clear fave but I'm not allowed to bias the research (grin).

SO, here are the options.
They are numbered.
If you have access to girls, I would LOVE to know what they think too.
If you don't mind, share your age (range, at least) if we haven't actually ever done lunch (grin). And the ages of those you solicit feedback from.

Thanks in advance for your help. Everyone who posts will get a free copy when it comes out...and you know, since I keep commitments now, I really really mean it. Really!
Just post your feedback HERE and then email me (click on "view my profile" if you need the address) your name/mailing address. You must post your comment by midnight on TUESDAY, FEBRUARY 17, 2009.

OPTION 1

OPTION 2

OPTION 3

OPTION 4

OPTION 5

OPTION 6

OPTION 7

So. Not. Cheesy.

This is the Salt Lake Temple. Committed members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints enter any of the nearly 150 temples around the world to worship, make covenants with God, and be married for time & all eternity.

I was blessed to witness one of these marriage ceremonies today.
On Valentine's Day.
I know...cheesy.

And yet, not.
SO not.

This is what life really is all about.
When all is said and done...
What really matters are our relationships.
Who we loved...
How we loved them...
WHY we loved them...
And all the ways that love is a reflection of His love...His perfect love.

I know...cheesy.
And yet, not.

Perhaps it is the Jane Austen in me that makes me love this day.
I don't know.
It's just never really bothered me...whether I had a date or not. (well, okay, one year a date ended tragically, but other than that...)
I really thought I would so not like being at a wedding today...on Valentine's Day...alone.
But, I loved it.
And maybe that's thanks to Jane.

But...
Much more than that, actually, is the knowledge I have that there is a God in Heaven...the Father of us all...who really has prepared things for us that we just can't even imagine...

And whether those things are just around the corner...
or the corner after that...
or the corner after that...
they are waiting.
I believe that.
I know that.

Cheesy?
No.
The exact opposite of cheesy...

(Here's the happy bride...my co-worker and friend, Chrislyn.) (Gorgeous flowers by Tammy)

And here's my new fave picture. Photographer & my good friend, Russ Dixon taught me how to do some cool things with my camera today. Watch out blogging world...this is gonna get fun! (and yes, I actually took this award-winning shot.)

Happy Day 'o Love...

Life's too short.
Go find someone to kiss.

Soul Boot Camp

Sometimes you need one.
A Boot Camp, that is.
It sounds hard...and like it will require a lot of discipline.
But, that's exactly what I need right now,
And so I got myself enrolled.

But, this isn't just any Boot Camp.
This is SOUL Boot Camp.
Body + Spirit = Soul
Laurel + needing to change = Boot Camp

And interesting that I woke up this morning, my first day of Boot Camp, having awakened from a dream about shoes (get it? boots = shoes?)

EFast got me into interpretting my dreams (though I mocked her terribly at first). It's so slick that if I awake in the middle of the night, having had an odd one (a dream, that is), I can turn over, grab my BB and go right to the dream interpretation page (ALMOST as good as being in Jail with Joseph in Egypt!)

"In general, shoes represent your approach to life...also represents your convictions about your beliefs".

So, what was my "shoe dream", you ask?

Well, in my dream (at a mall, be we won't interpret that part), I had taken off my shoes while talking to a boy (he who sends flowers on Tuesdays).
"Not wearing any shoes, represents your playful attitudes and relaxed, carefree frame of mind. You have a firm grasp and good understanding on a situation."
(hey, that sounds good...and in this one aspect of my life, I am oddly relaxed...FINALLY relaxed.)

But, then, I forgot them...the shoes, that is...didn't realize it until I was leaving the mall.
"If you forget your shoes, then it suggests that you are leaving restraints behind you. You are refusing to conform to some idea or attitude." OH, there is so much to say about THAT.
I have some "ideas" (i.e. beliefs) about myself and my life that are no longer serving me well (maybe they never have, but you aren't my therapist...and so you can't make me talk about that) but they've molded and shaped who I am...for good and for bad...and have defined me and what I've done.
But, since some of those ideas are no longer serving me well, WELL, I'm ready to leave them behind...oh so ready.

That wasn't the end of the dream, though. You see, I went back to find my shoes, and I couldn't find he who sends flowers on Tuesdays (perhaps not relevant) OR the shoes (me thinks very relevant). "If you dream that you lose your shoes, then it suggests that you may be searching for your identity and finding/exploring who you are."

And that, my friends, is Boot Camp in a nutshell. I'm in it, rather intensely, for the next few weeks and thought I might as well blog about it. It's a little bit of everything and completely self-imposed. But, clearly, I'm ready. I mean, I dreamt about shoes!

So, I'm in.
In like flin.
And I suspect, that there will be things I'll do along the way that are hard and that I don't want to do....and there will be things along the way that make me learn things I haven't wanted to learn.
But, I suspect that's the point of Boot Camp.
Especially Soul Boot Camp.

The planets have aligned the last few weeks and I can't deny it any longer.
It's all been stirring inside me since the beginning of the year and slowly but surely I've been preparing to take a step...no, a LEAP...forward.
Yeah, it's time.

It's my first day of camp.
Gotta get my boots on.

I want my nickel back

I've often referred to myself as a musical nerd.

I like everything from Buble to Daughtry.
And a bunch of artists in between.
I'm just very eclectic in my tastes. I am.

Like sometimes I like to pretend that I'm a "hard rock" girl.
Even though I'm so not.
But, I fell in love with Nickelback's "Photograph" a couple of years ago. I loved the sound and the emotion of the song and so I bought the album.

But, I ended up giving it away.
I realized it just wasn't for me.

So, about a week ago when I discovered their new single, "Gotta Be Somebody", I thought maybe I had matured. The lyrics are killer and I just love love love the song construction. There is something about the song that just really works for me and I was listening to it online over and over and over again.

Well, after the shoe-shopping escapade on the night of my birthday, I ran up to FYE right as they were closing. The guy was locking the door, "Please, it's my birthday."

"We're closed."

"No, you're close-ing...and I just HAVE to have the new Nickelback cd."

"Dark Horse?" He questioned, implying just by his tone that surely a girl like me wasn't wanting a cd like that.

"Yep, that's the one," I confidently replied.
"Come on...it's my birthday!"

He ran to get the cd.
I ran to the register.
Was out of there in 60 seconds.

I ripped the wrapper off so quickly that I don't think I even noticed the parental warning, because SURELY there was one.

The first song was so "um, what?" that I felt my excitement plunge. Couldn't listen to more than a few lines before I figured out where it was headed. I turned the light on in my car to read the other song titles.

"Dagnabit", I said.

I let myself listen to "Gotta Be Somebody" the whole way home.
On repeat.
Over and over again.
I sang at the top of my lungs.
All the way into my garage.

And then I got out of my car.
And threw the dark dark dark horse away.
Right in the trash.
(But, for the record, I STILL love "Gotta Be Somebody".)

And now...
well, now...
I want my nickle back.
My nickel + $14.99...

Dagnabit.

Me & Black History Month

What do we have in common?

We like to celebrate for a whole month.Cupcakes by Chrislyn

It occurred to me today when someone told me my birthday is a month-long celebration that really, the only thing that distinguishes a month-long celebration from just a day celebration, is that the person or organization doing the celebrating declares it so. (Um, hello..."March Madness"?)

And that's what I do on my birthday, I suppose.
And there is no room for disappointment when you basically orchestrate the celebrations and manipulate the situations.

For a month.
(Though, I must admit that last night when the actual day was done, I was almost tired of myself. Almost.)

It started last week and my last official celebration (as it currently stands) is February 20th. And I'm enjoying every last minute.

Here's just a review of what's happened "so far"
(you know, since it's a month long celebration and all):

Me with my Riverton girls last Saturday night:We might have gone to Cheesecake Factory

I woke up yesterday morning and stopped at the bakery to get treats because my favorite thing used to be having my mom bring treats to school for my birthday. I sent an email to the entire corporate office inviting them to come say "Happy Birthday" and have a treat. Yes, the entire corporate office. People would come and give their greeting and I would say, "Who told you?!?" (I keep waiting to be mature...but so far, no luck.)

Perfect flowers waiting for me when I got to work:
And signage with me saying, "Oh my goodness! How did you know it was my birthday?!?":
And more gerbera daisies in the afternoon (my parents always come through!):
And the night ended with Tammy & Hilary: two of my longest friends...my married mom chicks and I needed a dose of them:We went to dinner (might have revisited TCF) and then went to a show that just wasn't funny enough so we left at intermission and might have gone to DSW Shoes. If we did, I might have bought three pairs and Tam and Hil might not have tried to talk me out of them. A PERFECT NIGHT.

And amidst all of this, I have had an awakening...a much needed awakening. It started about a month ago, but since I'm slower than the other kids, it's taken me a while to put it all together. But, whilst on a little birthday lunch with my "what might have been" (we all have one, right?) I just finally said, "Yeah, it's time." (oh, and by the way, during that lunch, I also went up to visit Grandpa. First birthday in a long time, I haven't had a birthday lunch planned with him...)

So, stay tuned...

Perfect birthday wishes. Perfect.

So much to share on one of the most nearly perfectly happy birthdays ever.
I love to feel loved.
And I love that I'm so shameless about giving people chances to share the love...on my birthday. Oh, how I love birthdays.

Photos and details to come.

But, today I got "birthday wishes" from GNO and I just had to share them.

Perfect.
Just. Like. Them.

"Top wishes for Laurel this year"

1 - Action...if you know what I mean

2 - To literally "run and not be weary"

3 - At least one divinely perfect romantic moment

4 - Plenty of moments (days-preferably WEEKS) of perfect, still, bone-deep, divine peace

5 - Wisdom in all decisions that are made

6 - The achievement of one elusive goal

7 - Another achievement of such size and proportion to make graduation just seem routine. A moment of "oh my goodness I can't believe I just that that. I'm SO FREAKING AWESOME"

8 - No speeding tickets

and perhaps the best one...
9 - She gets up one morning and looks in the mirror and thinks to herself “I look fandamtastic today” and gets in her car and heads off to work. It’s sunny and warm so she rides with the windows down and her hair blows fabulously behind her like a supermodels as Michael Buble serenades her from her stereo. As she sits waiting at a stoplight and thinking to herself “Man! I have the best friends on earth” she feels a jolt and her car skips forward a bit. “Oh,no!” she thinks “Someone has rear ended my 'LYFSGUD' car!” She gracefully slides out of the front seat and steps to the back of the car to inspect the damage. “Could be worse” she thinks “just a little dent”. She gradually becomes aware of the sound of Barry Manilow singing “Oh Mandy” from the offending vehicle. Before she can glance up she hears of voice say “Oh wow, I’m sorry. This is totally my fault”. The voice is coming from a 6’3”, sweet faced lad of 38. Laurel shrugs a little and says with a smile (because, after all, the boy is cute) “Oh, well at least it doesn’t look too bad. Did it do anything to your car?” at which point they simultaneously bend over and bump head and both start to giggle (one decidedly louder than the other). “Look” says sweet faced boy “I’ll totally take care of this but I’d rather not got through my insurance. Okay if I just give you my card and you can call me and let me know what the repair costs are? Money is no issue. I invented the breakaway cat collar.” Laurel thinks for a second that he might be pulling one over on her and then she notices the ring on his finger…not a wedding ring…the left hand is conspicuously bare…but on his right hand is a very tasteful CTR ring…so of COURSE he can be trusted. “Okay” says Laurel “That should be fine”. “Great, thanks so much” says sweet faced boy. “…and maybe we could meet up for lunch sometime to work out the details. Just give me a call.” He smiles a very sweet, sweet faced boy smile, hands her his card, gets into his car and drives off. Laurel sighs a little bit and glances down at the card: Jack Wyatt, (801) 555-FATE

Oh, they know me SO well.(Me and GNO at our first annual GNO Girls Camp with Kathy & Dean Hughes...Dean was our "Priesthood at Camp" that night...I think this was summer 2004. I'm on the far right and yes, points if you say I look much better now!...our theme for camp that year was Isaiah 4:1...yep...it was.)

Please don't be older (& why I'm going to hell)

Please don't be older.
Please don't be older.
Please don't be older.

That's what I kept saying to myself over and over again while I awaited the results of my Real Age test. Don't ask me why I subjected myself to the little research experiment on the Eve of my birthday (which, btw, I just realized is actually a celebration of FINISHING my 37th year...not starting it. Seriously, people, I just lost a year of my life. Where did "37" go?!?) when I was already sensing I was precariously perched on the edge of regret.

Because of some of my habits (or lack thereof), I wasn't expecting to be younger.
I just SO didn't want to be older.

My calendar age (because my birthday isn't until tomorrow) is 36.9
And my real age?

Well, here are the factors (according to the results) impacting the final calculation:

Health:
- GOOD: No breast cancer in my immediate family (though aunts on both sides, but it didnt' ask about that)
- BAD: family history of ovarian cancer (but I don't remember saying that.)

Habits:
- GOOD: I buckle up, I have a high level of education, I always have a designated driver (I really don't, which makes me chuckle, but apparently because I never drive drunk, the test thought I have a designated driver.)

Relationships:
- GOOD: having parents who stayed together (thanks, Poopsie & Toots!)
- BAD: not having a dog (which will always be the case) and facing a lot of stress (which will also probably always be the case)...apparently both of these things bring my real age down.

Diet:
- GOOD: getting plenty of omega-3s (i do love me some salmon!) and eating breakfast everyday (because I do!)
- BAD: not getting enough folic acid (I'm sorry, but I thought "acid" was a bad thing)

Fitness:
- GOOD: I know how to spell "fitness" and I know what falls in that category
- BAD: I didn't have anything listed in the "good category" (upcoming post)

So, I was prepared for the worst...prepared to discover that I'm closer to the age of my soon-to-post-about-the-blind-date-for-whom-I-am-a-name-snob... I took a deep breath.

37.0

Hmmm.
I'm my age.
I'm my actual age.

And while, sure, it would be nice to be younger,
I'll take it.

So, on this eve of the celebration of the day of me birth...

Happy Birthday to ME.
I'm 37 tomorrow...on the calendar AND on the test.
And I have to say, 37 is...good.
I think it's really okay.
I'm rather pleased with where I am.
And excited about where I can go...

Yes siree...HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME!

(oh, btw, the reason I'm going to hell is because whilst on chat tonight during my committee call, we were in rare form...very funny...and a bet as to when the call would end required I find all sorts of things to talk about and questions to ask...so that the call would go longer than it appeared to be going towards the end...well, so I could win...and it was funny. I was brilliant. And I helped it go another 5 minutes...which helped get it into my time...but it was all I could do to not errupt in laughter...had to slow my speech a couple of times...and then...AND THEN...I was asked to give the closing prayer. The Lord TOTALLY called me out...and I just knew I was going to laugh...ON THE CALL...during the prayer that I was giving. I didn't...but it wasn't easy people...it wasn't easy.)

Only say you'll do it...

...if you really will.

This was my motto at work starting about two years ago when I realized that I was overcommitting myself and not following through on those over-commitments.

I wrote it up and posted it by my phone and saw it everyday.

And in a lot of ways it worked.
For work, anyway.

About a month ago I got the announcement that I had Stake Conference Feb. 7th & 8th. We were invited to read a series of chapters in the scriptures and to commit to spend extra time in prayer and pondering. I had this strong impression that I needed to take the invitation seriously and participate in all of it (including the Saturday night meeting).

But, it's my pre-birthday weekend (what? did someone say it's almost my birthday?)and I had some friends make plans with me tonight. And I was going to just go with them and have a fun evening...but I had this nagging feeling that I needed to be at the meeting like I had originally planned. My dear friends agreed to meet me earlier so that I could make my commitment.

Naturally, since the impression was so strong, I kind of thought that I would hear something I needed to hear...or learn something I needed to learn...or meet someone I needed to meet.

But, I didn't.

On my way to the meeting (when I was considering just going home because I was tired), someone who I really love and respect told me:
"I know you have good intentions. I've just learned that you don't do what you say you'll do."

Ouch.
What?
Come again?

"Am I a flake?" I asked. "Is that what you're saying? I'm a flake?"

"You're not a flake. You just don't do what you say your going to."

Um, that's a "flake".
And, ouch.
Ouch.

But, the only reason it "ouched" is because it's true.
And I know it.
And I don't like that I know it (OR that it's true).

I have lists of things I intend to do.
My planner is still on Monday...with a dozen boxes next to "to do" items waiting to be checked off.
It's Saturday.
But, my planner is still on Monday.

I get promptings while I sit in Sacrament meetings.
People to call. Notes to write.
I write them down...with little boxes next to them.
I bring these lists home.
I have lists with boxes throughout my scriptures.
Empty unchecked-off boxes.

If I was a guy, I'd be a jerk.
"I'll call you."
"We'll go out sometime."

My nephew Mark has been waiting more than TWO YEARS for me to knit him a scarf that I promised I'd knit. I don't think he thinks about it anymore. But, I do. I have a voicemail that I've saved...FOR TWO YEARS...with his little voice telling me what colors he wants his scarf to be. Because for two years, I've intended to knit his "Buzz lightyear rainbow scarf" (I know...I don't know how to do that either.) and I keep the voicemail as a reminder.

But, he still hasn't gotten that scarf.

I overcommit to people I love because I want to think I can do all the things I intend to do.
But, I can't.
And I won't.

I'm a flake.

I've felt it for a while but I just haven't really confronted it before.
But, I need to now.
It's time.
And it's time to change.
And I know I can.
I want to be that girl that does what she says she'll do.
(or is smart enough to not commit to doing it in the first place).

I sat in the meeting tonight waiting for the thing I was supposed to learn...or the thing I needed to hear...or the person I needed to meet...and then it hit me.

I just needed to be there.
Because I said I would be.

And I felt a little bit of hope.

If you're one of the MANY people I've flaked on (ironically, myself included...I've actually flaked on myself),
can you give me another chance?

From here on out, I'm committed to not overcommit.
I'm committed to only say I'll do it...
...if I really really will.

And I will.
But, first, I need to talk to a cute little guy...
about a scarf.

I'm a name snob.

I am.
Is that bad?

I don't mean to be.
And really, for a girl named "Laurel", I don't really have a right.
I mean, it's not like my name is cool or anything.
I really don't think it is.

I just have feelings about certain names.
Am I the only one?
You know, sometimes there is an experience connected with the name that gives it a negative association.

LIKE, for example, in Middle School there was a red-head named Brittany. She was so not nice. I have never held it against red-heads (much to the relief of my friend Adam...yes, Adam...you just got a blog "shout out") but girls named Brittany (yes, Amanda, including YOUR beloved) just typically don't sit well with me (if any of you are named Brittany, I'm totally kidding).

And then there was a Jamie and wowzers was she difficult...and so for the longest time I didn't like girls named Jamie...but then I got to know my own cousin (who I adore) and then met two of my other dearest friends...Jami & Jaime (seriously, how many ways are there to spell this name?!?), and now I like the name.

I'm no longer a snob about the name "Jamie".

But, there are other names.

Like there are a few boys names I now could never use for my own offspring because of boys associated with those names. (We won't go into that here.)

And then there are other names that just...you know what I mean?

I realized tonight after listening to the third voicemail from a potential blind date (that I know I need to call back...I promise I do...I know it takes a lot for a guy to call...and takes even more to call THREE TIMES without a return call) that maybe I'm a name snob.

Could that be it?

I mean, I admit, I also have a thing for voices...and I can almost always tell by a voice if there is a connection or not (I'm rarely wrong)...and so maybe it's the voice that isn't working for me.

And I also have a thing with hands...the last guy that held my hand? Yeah, totally thought I liked him until that. I looked down and thought, "this hand doesn't look familiar" and sure, it was oddly small, but there was just something about his hands that weren't familiar.

Is that weird?
Am I weird?

So, sometimes it's a voice or the hands...
But, in this case...I'm pretty sure it's the name.

I don't dare write it here...you never know who knows who...and I certainly don't want to offend anyone.

I just have this name in my mind of the guy I'll end up with.
Now sure, that name has changed over the years...but I've had it in my mind for a while now (and I got a "wrong number" a little while ago from a guy with that name. I so wanted to say, "um, maybe this ISN'T a wrong number...do you believe in love at first name?" and his voice!OH MY! His voice!) and I guess I'm just kind of hoping...

Of course, I'm kidding.
Well, not about the name snob thing.
There's no kidding about that.
I think I am one.

I don't mean to be.
Do you think less of me now?

I'll be back.
I have a call to return.
(and I promise to put my name snob-ness behind while we're talking...but I can't promise to overlook the voice too. That is a lot to ask of a girl.)

On-again, Off-again

I wasn't sure what happened.
I really loved the relationship at first.
Heck, I even put the application on my BlackBerry!

And when I got started, I was fascinated by all the information.
And I was reconnecting with long lost friends.
Heck, I even found Jimmy B!

But, then people I didn't really know wanted to be my friend.
And I accidentally accepted SOME and accidentally ignored OTHERS.
And then it just got awkward.

I soon realized I was reconnected with some people I didn't really want to be reconnected with but how do you "unfriend" someone without being a total jerk? (and is it jerky to even think that?)

I judged people who had 300 "friends"...come on!
Who has 300 friends?
But, then I had 300 "friends"...ugh.

And, then, the real clincher is I started focusing on what I really need to do every day. And I realized I don't need facebook.

But, I wanted it.

I started wondering...the facebook...all the sharing...is it helping people? It is hurting people? Is it creating a bunch of attention-needy people?

And I decided that some of my fb motives probably weren't totally pure.
(when you want guys you used to love to know how cool your life is without them? that's probably not uber-healthy.)
And then it just didn't feel fun anymore.

And this blog?
What are my motives here?
Am I writing because I have a need to be heard?
Am I writing because I have the need to connect?
Am I writing because I have a need for attention?

I don't know, honestly.
I suppose on some level, all of those things are true in some way.

But, I think the conclusion I've come to (and I really have been thinking about this) is that blogging is a blessing for me.
And it's a good thing for me.
I look at life differently...always learning.
I see lessons all around me...always seeing.
I've figured things out I really needed to figure out (cheaper than therapy!)
I have a treasured record now of pictures and places and experiences.
I'm writing again.
I have a little diversion from my life.
I feel connected all the time with people I love (and people I would love if we went and had lunch...let's do lunch).

So, for now, blogging and I are still TOTALLY in a committed relationship.
It's just facebook that's dysfunctional.

I kind of want to break up.
But, it's so hard.
I suppose we can still get together occassionally.
And who am I kidding, anyway?
I've rarely been able to break up permanently.

I just think I'm going to be in a casual relationship with the social network...keeping the stuff that really matters here.
I'll still use it to find long lost friends and I'll continue accepting friends.
And I'll update my status every now and then...like if I meet Mr. Darcy.
(speaking of which, check out this gem that Erin H shared with me a few weeks ago. It makes me second guess wanting to break up. LOVE IT.)

So, I'm breaking up.
or not.

It's on-again. Off-again.
So typical.

Still I laugh.

When you live alone (not saying I do, if you're a stalker, but if I did...) and you have reason to laugh out loud, it seems to be even funnier...that thing that was your reason for laughing.

Whilst blogging earlier tonight, I was thinking how yummy the dinner next door smelled. I thought, "MMMMM. Wouldn't it be nice to have a warm dinner tonight?"

Imagine my "WHAT?", oh, I don't know, ONE HOUR LATER, when I walked into my kitchen and wondered why my oven light was on.

Yep, it was MY dinner.

A cute woman in my ward had brought over chicken enchiladas for me to put in the over for dinner. And so I DID put them in the oven for dinner...and then forgot about them for two hours. Burned to a crisp, they were.

I'm still laughing about that.

And then there are the conference calls. Every Sunday night for 90-120+ minutes, we have a conference call with the other members of the Church committee I'm on. Some nights it feels kind of long and (I so shouldn't admit this) I MIGHT do a google chat with two people on the committee (who also happen to be two of my favorite people).

A couple of weeks ago, whilst chatting and listening, I dared one of my comrades (shout out to you, Tyler) to use the word "cheese" before the call was over...even told him I'd pay him $25 if he did it. I knew there was no way he could fit "cheese" in, but I wanted to just mix things up a little. It was a classic moment...as the three of us tried not to break out in laughter...and, of course, I owe him $25. (and yes, I realize this totally makes me look like I'm 12. And just like any 12 yr old, I'll likely never pay up.)

But, then tonight...tonight...my other friend, Russ, was in the middle of a brilliant comment of some sort (covering up my odd comment wherein I referenced a "Brady Bunch" episode...and I'm not kidding...though I so wish I was) and in the middle of his comment, it he stopped abruptly, but barely missed a beat...except that you could tell he was in a slightly different position with the phone as he finished his thought.

The next thing I got was a little IM...
chair broke in half
fell on floor
kept talking
surprised I didn't swear

And sure, maybe you had to be there...but come on...I wasn't even there and I'm laughing. Only real problem is that I also did 100 crunches yesterday (more about that later) and so it hurts to laugh.

And yet still, I laugh.

(and made him take a pic and send it to me as proof. I now, with permission, share it with you.) Please, please tell me you find this funny too.

More than enough.

Let me clarify what "Make it enough, Lord" really meant to me.

I don't struggle with wondering whether or not my life is enough for Him.

I mean, it's not that I think I always measure up; but God and I have talked enough that I'm past the point of wondering if my life is acceptable to Him. I know He knows I'm doing my best...most of the time. I know He accepts whatever we have to offer. As long as we are giving Him whatever we have.
And I truly believe that.

So, my January 1 "make it enough" prayer wasn't about asking Him to make it enough for HIM. Rather, it was about asking that He help make it enough for ME.

It was me requesting and admitting that I needed Him to make the life I have right now enough to fill my needs.
Enough to satisfy my heart.
At least for now.

And He has already answered in spades.

When I look at what He gave me during the last month,
I'm one grateful little chiquita.

In addition to the miracle of the event and then granting me more ability and energy than I had, He gave me love.

No, I didn't meet anyone.

Rather, amidst quite possibly the most crazy month of my life (I know I've said that before but I think this time I really mean it), where there has barely been time to sleep let alone do anything outside of my work and church commitments, people who I love found time to celebrate my recent grad school accomplishment...complete with the robe and everything.

It was a surprise.
And the most silly...
and most perfect day ever.

And I felt so very loved.

It was enough.
Yes, MORE than enough.

(Yes, even more silly, but all the more perfect that my parents were actually there.)


Me with the hostess (one of my mentors & dearest friends): Ardeth G. Kapp

My smart friend Holly also finished her grad program in December.

It was just the sort of thing Grandpa would have loved. A part of he & grandma were right there with me.

My love-him-like-a-brother-but-he's-my-cousin Jake finished the program with me. We very shamefully made our parents throw us a little family shindig (we walked & everything!).

In addition to doing the same program and ALMOST having the same GPA (okay, so he might have beat me by 3 one hundredths of a point), we both love Costco...and we're both very silly.

(January was so good that you'd think it was a grand preparation for my birthday in February or something...WHAT? Did someone say it's MY BIRTHDAY in February?!)