Advice

Boys, one word of advice to keep you from being seriously steeped in anti-male sentiment in your near future:

• When you get to your date's house, don't call her and tell her to come out. GO to the door! It's basic common courtesy, especially on the first date.

Also, don't use cologne as a weapon. It's allergy season.

That's all. [...] keep up the good work.

Ni le ciel, ni les étoiles ne m'éloignent de toi

"Neither the sky, nor the stars could distance me from you." I am going to frame this and put on my wall at home, because it's something I really believe in.

One of my favorite songs in the French hymn book is "Souviens-toi." I sang it many times at the MTC with the French missionaries. This haunting melody, courtesy of Dvorák, is familiar to many as "Goin' Home" in English: part of the New World Symphony, second movement. I wanted to share the words here since it's in my head... and yes I will translate:

Souviens-toi, mon enfant: Tes parents divins?
(Do you remember, my child, your Heavenly Parents?)
Te serraient dans leurs bras, ce temps n'est pas loin.
(You were in their arms, that time is not far gone)
Aujourd'hui, tu es là, présent merveilleux,
(Today you are here, in the marvelous Present)
Ton regard brille encore du reflet des cieux.
(Your countenance still reflects the brilliance of the skies)
Parle-moi, mon enfant de ces lieux bénis,
(Speak to me, my child, of those blessed places)
Car pour toi est léger le voile d'oubli.
(Because for you the veil of memory is thin.)

Souviens-toi, mon enfant, des bois, des cités
(Remember, my child, the woods, the cities)
Pouvons-nous ici bas les imaginer?
(Could we, here below, imagine them?)
Et le ciel jusqu'au soir, est-il rose ou gris?
(And the sky, until night, is it pink or gray?)
Le soleil attend-il la neige ou la pluie?
(Does the sun wait for snow or rain?)
Conte-moi, mon enfant, la couleur des prés
(Tell me, child, about the color of the world)
Et le chant des oiseaux d'un monde oublié.
(And the song of the birds in that forgotten place)

Souviens-toi, mon enfant: A l'aube des temps,
(Do you remember, my child: at the dawn of time,)
Nous étions des amis jouant dans le vent.
(We were friends playing in the wind)
Puis un jour, dans la joie nous avons choisi
(Then one day, we chose with joy)
D'accepter du Seigneur le grand plan de vie.
(To accept from the Savior the great plan of life)
Ce soir-là, mon enfant, nous avons promis
(That night, my child, we promised)
Par l'amour, par la foi, d'être réunis.
(By love, by faith, to meet again.)

Ach du lieber!

Ja, ja ja. You're expecting a German blog. Well, I'm sorry I can't furnish you with one. I was trying to pray in German the other day, and I realized that I can only pray for:

Food
Help with my homework
My family
Thanks for this class and for the Savior

So I decided I might get farther along with the Almighty if I decided not to become a German citizen.

Which leads me to a story.

Once upon a time, I had a roommate named Lindsay. Lindsay used to talk in her sleep in German all the time. It was weird. Mind you, she didn't speak German in real life. Only in her dreams. Ja, das war weird. It started a chain reaction of every roommate from thenceforth talking in her sleep. I now know bits and pieces of German, Korean, Spanish, Mumble, and Microbiology that I would otherwise have missed had I not had the roommates I did.

Which still doesn't change the fact that I can't find the Umlaut.
And we had German pancakes yesterday and they were yummy.

...Your cow here would die of fright!

Kick boxing is an excellent way to improve your flexibility, illegal ninja moves from the government, and get your exercise in for the day.

Followed up by ballet.
And jazz.

Gene Kelly, you have been summarily put to shame.

Boo yah.

Finnish RM fails drug test

News flash: "Finnish RM fails drug test."

Scene I: drug lab in United States. Mike brings up his specimen for analysis.

Drug Technician: This is green.
Mike: Well, the water in the bowl was blue.
Drug Technician: We put blue dye in there to prevent people from doing that.
Mike: ? ... That's not how they do it in Finland.
Drug Technician: "You're going to have to do it again."
Mike: Um...
Narrator: audience hears car wheels squealing.
Mike (at home) : Kassy, I failed the drug test and I can't pee!
Kassy: (laughs hysterically)... "How do you fail a drug test?!"
Narrator: Kassy gives Mike three glasses of water. No effect. They solicit advice from neighbor boy. Enter neighbor boy. (Stage left.)
Neighbor boy: Drink warm water!
Narrator: Half an hour later...
Mike: Kassy, drive FAST!
Narrator: And so, Kassy had to take her husband to the hospital just so he could go to the bathroom. And he passed his test this time.

The end.

Dr. Mario

Adventure. A glorified way of saying that what you planned has taken a series of wrong (or right) turns.

Kassy and I were supposed to go to the salon yesterday to get our hair deep conditioned and enjoy the goodness of superfluous yet necessary feminine pampering. Unfortunately, when her baby Joshua woke up at 6:00 A.M., his runny nose and sinus infection made a grand entrance accompanied by a nasty ear infection. The poor boy was screaming for a while and wouldn't eat. Then Kassy and I went to the pediatrician (who I have to shamelessly mention, was hot. Like Keanu Reeves in better roles minus his poor acting or better yet a very young Christopher Plummer with nice tan and contrived accent hot) and got several prescriptions for Josh.

Needless to say we didn't get our hair done. But we did get in a few good movies, most noteably Wallace & Gromit: The Curse of the Were-Rabbit. Now that is good entertainment my loves.

The downside of all this misadventure is simple: Yesterday night I had a general feeling of listlessness, a low fever and a headache in addition to fuzzy tummy syndrome. It's not so bad today, but I've decided when I have a baby and she / he gets sick, I am going to coat myself in a thick layer of plastic wrap and Lysol. And wear some sort of anti-deathgerm-making face mask.

That oughtta teach the little germies not to mess with me.

Assurance

"Our safety lies in the virtue of our lives.
Our strength lies in our righteousness.
God has made it clear that if we will not forsake Him,
He will not forsake us."
- Gordon B. Hinckley Oct. 2001

Sometimes that's all I think we need to hear.

Mr. Darcy Stare?

The "look" can be summarized in a few words from Nicholas Nickleby:

Fanny: "We don't need words...if you could only see the way he looked at me."

Tilda: "Did he look at you like this? If he did, you're engaged. That's the way John looked at me."

John Browdie: "I hope it was better than that, or thee'd have run to the hills!"

I was thinking about this yesterday as I was talking to Lindsay's cat. My feline friend was gazing deep into my eyes while I was talking and every time aforementioned kitty looked deep in my eyes, it would put its nose against my mouth. I was like, hmm...this cat is subconsciously obsessed with kissing me. It's completely oblivious to anything else I'm saying.

And then the idea struck.

I should learn how to do that "look."
The wisdom of this simpering feline may benefit us all.

The Lure

There are few things that will convince me to eat in the morning. One is the smell of fresh fruit; one is my dog biting at my pajama pant leg to get me out of bed and feed her; and one is a well-dressed and mysteriously attractive (tall, dark and handsome) man showing up at my door with roses (insert alternate flower here) and frozen birthday cake. That about completes the list.

And then today happened.

They were just sitting there on the table. That box, with the morning sun scintillating off its cardboard and ink surface... Stephen had forgotten to return it to the cupboard ... fool.

There was no one around except el chupeneibre. And so I gave in.

And ate a full bowl of Golden Grahams before the crunch had time to escape.

Yes Jon, you were right all along.

Pros and Cons

Con: Moving day.
Pro: Possibility of food as reward for moving day.
Con: Heavy lifting.
Pro: Uberhot muscles formed by heavy lifting.
Con: Getting Brian's hud together and putting it into Angry Johnny's truck.
Pro: Getting Brian's hud outta my house.
Con: Trying to move stuff with neighbor girls wanting to have tea party.
Pro: Crumpets.
Con: Don't know what crumpets are.
Pro: Dog eats crumpets.
Con: Moving the crumpet-filled dog to access furniture.

So I don't know if I even out in the end or not, but if anyone would like (puppy dog eyes) to help us move Brian and Lindsay into their apartment in Orem tonight, that would be a good thing and you'd prolly qualify yourself for heavenly blessings. We'll be starting around 5 or 6.

It will be the social event of the season.

Small Wonder

So since I've been home, I have somehow dropped five pounds. I don't know where it went. I can't find it. But I weighed myself this morning, and I was TINY.

Cwazy.

Soon I'll be Calista Flockhart or Emmy Rossum small.

Gross.

April showers bring May flowers

And they have a whole website dedicated to it. Fasn8n, really.

Does anyone know why is it generally socially unacceptable for girls to give flowers to boys? Sometimes I really want to, but this stigma in my head slaps my hands and says no.

Or better yet, could someone tell me the masculine equivalent to flowers? I don't want to give power tools, but...

An Ideal Husband

A BYU professor once said:

"If you find a person who fits 80%
of your needs or expectations,
you have a small miracle--
and should do all you can to hold onto them.

Guys, this ought to give you some encouragement. Why? Because women have a prefabricated set of qualifications mapped out for the men they date. Girls, I know you all made those lists in Young Women's. You know, the 45 traits your future husband absolutely must have in order to qualify as a candidate for your affections. We all have those little lists floating around somewhere, and most of them are nearly impossible to fulfil.

I found several of those lists today, as well as one of those "Letters to my Future Husband" that Mia Maid leaders encourage you to write before being old enough to date. I read the letter. It was pretty sappy. But hopelessly romantic, too. I don't know if I'd give it to my future husband or not, he'd prolly die laughing and then kiss me out of sympathy. And then I'd burn the letter.

I think I should post one of those "lists," though, and see how it compares to other girls' lists. It would be funny to see, and give guys and opportunity to see how spasmodically complicated the female mind is, even in the teen years. Pardon: especially in the teen years. I'll have to do that later today...

Endorphin

Sounds like a Star Wars midget-planet.

This week I started my summer workout routine. There's an awful lot of unused muscle floating around my little self, and I should do summat about that. Then I can look nice in a prom gown...except I'm not going to prom anytime soon.

And so I have a specific plan to improve:

abs-crunches
biceps-weights, pushups
deltoids-swimming
triceps-pushups
quads, gastocnemius-running

I've got my work cut out for me. But I think this will minimize the "I can't stand one more minute indoors" mood I'm currently undergoing. I hate this mood.

Endorphins rule. Job searches bite. I'm sore from exercising!

Link

Because let's face it. When you find a boy who lets you obsess about the Legend of Zelda and then play the video game for hours without complaint, then it's prolly time you should consider keeping him.

Just a thought.

Food Storage

So I decided that a definite bonus to someday getting married is the prospect of adequate food storage. Versus what I'm currently living on.

It's not that single people don't have food. We do. We just have to pick-and-choose from what our roommates have and what we don't, and thereby make a balanced meal. I guess I'm feeling guilty for once again pilfering one of Kristi's cans of chicken noodle soup, which I wouldn't have had to do if I had the unlimited resources of a can-goddess.

In contrast, Matt and Lily's pantry was chock-full of canned goodness of every type. I should know. I sorted it for them while they were on their honeymoon. Those canned whatevers would have come in handy this morning when I was looking for chicken broth.

And it's not just cann-ed goods. Married people also have access to the full gamut of spices. Mom does. They're sitting down in the Fruit Room, waiting to be turned into some fantastical garnish for who knows what. I can't even guess what half of those spices are. Does this make me an inadequate woman? I hope not. I'd hate for that to be on my resume.

Hands

My favorite thing about my boyfriend today is:

The fact that his hand is just big enough for my hand to fit comfortably in it. Sometimes, I think it was custom-made that way.

Networking

Warning: venting blog approaching.

It's a well-known fact that guys are constantly baffled by the underground organization known to some only as the Girl Network. It's a streamlined system that efficiently feeds women our gossip within the hour the event has happened, and keeps us apprised to the goings-on in our world. Membership, however, is exclusive and contingent on an intricate understanding of the Reckless Female Hormone. Guys get frustrated with our web of "knowingness" and we can't really blame them for being bewildered and / or frustrated with how much it pervades daily life.

But as I learned today, yes we can.

I've decided that guys have as extensive and clandestine network as we ladies do, and in some cases, it's more lethal. The key to the Guy Network is the principle of not-telling. We say they don't talk to each other about love / life / whatever, but they do. They talk about these things a lot.

Example:

My friend broke up with her boyfriend today. Recently-ex'ed-boyfriend (Danny) is mad at friend (Kristin) because she is still writing to a missionary (Kenneth.) This is not the pivotal argument of the break-up, but Danny chose to bring it into the fray. Danny had known about Missionary Kenneth since January because boy-network aquaintance and therefore bosom-companion (Thomas) had told Danny about Kenneth. It's not like this information was anything new to him. The "knowing" part of it wasn't bad. It was the fact that Danny never said anything to Kristin about this before, or that it bugged him, until they actually broke up. He'd gotten the secret from the Boy Network ages ago, and failed to properly apply his knowledge. It's not Kristin's fault that Danny skirted this important issue completely, waiting for it to surface at the most inopportune time.

Without making sweeping generalizations, as I'm about to do, I'm a bit miffed at the whole thing. If Danny had a problem, Danny should have addressed the problem. He should not have waited for the problem to explode or dissolve on its own, and then blame Kristin for the problem's being there. It wouldn't have been an issue if he hadn't made it one. Thomas, if the issue was bugging him, on his buddy's account, should have talked directly to Kristin instead of going over to Danny and undermining the relationship with potentially toxic information.

I guess all I'm trying to say is that the Boy Network is just as powerful and deceptive as the Girl Network, and both could use a bit more common sense in their delivery.

Taco Bell

I mean, you gotta give the boy credit for trying. Most guys see Kendall and just get bladder discomfort.

Taco Bell Employee (male): "Would you like to get a drink, ma'am?"

Kendall (female): "No thanks."

Taco Bell Employee (persistent male): "I meant would you like to get a drink with me?"

Kendall (confuzzled female): ". . . . . . . . . . . " (Promptly walks away.)

And that, my friends, is the classic BYU scene I witnessed not three hours ago. Oh pick-up lines, how I love thee! It's an invasive way to break the ice, but it sure does get attention. Like this: "Your lips look wrinkled. Do you want me to press them?"

That one is pretty great, and I'm sure at some time I may use it to my advantage. (Again... where is my boyfriend?!) but I've heard some strange / gross pick-up lines as well. And so today's blog is an open forum. Tell me about your best / worse lines and I'll rate them in order of how heinous / effective they are. Won't that be fun? ... you know you want to.

"I lost my phone number...can I have your's?"

Addendum

According to Kristi, there has to be an addition to the Hugs post.

17. The arms around your neck I want to grab your face and kiss you hug. So. Hot.

Not to be confused with what a bear does while mauling you.

And then there's the bad list addition:

7. The dead fish hug. Way worse than the dead-fish hand shake.