When the Sun Comes Out. . .

people do crazy things. Like climb the face of a mountain. That is what my mom and I did yesterday morning.

We both thought, "What a lovely morning it is. Why stay cooped up in the house?"

Then my mom decided we should take a hike. I agreed. We discovered there are natural arches on the tip of the mountain behind our house. My mom decided we should go see them. I agreed. So we packed some water and candy bars and brought Ringo, our loyal dog, along with us for the adventure. Turns out we didn't know where we were going and finding the arches was not as easy as we had initially planned. So we just climbed. . .to an unknown destination.

We climbed through trees. We slid down piles of rock. We swatted at giant mosquitoes. We crawled on hands and knees up a cliff where I am pretty sure only deer had trod and snakes had slithered.

I think I will stick to hiking trails from now on.

Oh, and we also watched a snake eat a mouse. . .

My legs are a bit weak today, but we now have beautiful hand-picked bouquets of wildflowers in mason jars on the kitchen table. And I think Ringo is fully prepared to be lazy for a few days. That poor dog. He never knows what he is getting himself into.  

I Still Play Pretend

I, like many others, am growing sick of all this rain and yucky weather.
I, too, want summer. Badly.

I want sun warming my skin, I want tan lines, and I want shorts and sandals.
I want otter pops, I want to roll the windows down, and I want fresh fruit.
I want roasted hot dogs and mallows, I want swimming pools, and I want bare feet in the grass.
I want ice cold drinks, I want sleeping on the tramp, and I want early morning runs.

But wanting all these things and being grouchy because of the grey weather will not make the sun come out any sooner. So for now, I just play pretend.

I turn up the volume to my Mumford and Sons music. It is Irish music. For sure. The music makes you tap your foot and the lyrics are raw and deep. Then as I look around at the very green rolling hills, I don't feel so bad. Wispy clouds are hovering right above land, the mountains are engulfed by them. The air smells like fresh rain. I realize I am in a green, rainy dream and the fiddle keeps playing in the background.

I am in Ireland, folks. I have just changed my gloomy Idaho/Utah surroundings into Ireland. I am on vacation and I didn't even have to purchase a plane ticket. It's funny how my outlook on something can change everything.

It seems even more real when I make Brian talk to me in an Irish accent. Hopefully the rain passes in the next 9 days though. Because my pretend Irish man is leaving for South America for a month. I am so excited for him. You can bet the month of June I'll be spending some time pretending my new destination is South America. With him.

Yes, I still play pretend and I hope that I always will.

Not Exactly Camera Shy

79 days until I marry Brian.

2 days ago we had engagement pictures taken.

It was an absolute blast!

Melanie Gunnell took our pictures. You can check her blog out by just clicking here!
She does some amazing work and she's such a fun, bubbly, energetic person.

I have been excited about getting pictures taken basically since Brian proposed. Brian was a super good sport about all the picture uproar too, and honestly I think he liked it all just as much as I did (if not more). We carefully planned our outfits, gathered props and were determined to not have the regular, every day engagement photos. You know, the ones where the couple smiles and the girl elegantly sets her left hand on the man's chest to show off her ring?

I think we pulled off what we wanted. I am already antsy to see the outcome. But patient I will be! Just to get someone excited (even if that someone is only me) our pictures involved:

Sidewalk chalk creations, pretending to be in a different time era, old suitcases, train tracks, my great grandmother's dress, Brian wearing suspenders, chasing Canadian geese, Brian serenading me with Ginger the guitar, cuddling in colorful quilts, kissing behind our favorite book, and almost getting eaten by the biggest beast of a dog I have ever laid eyes on.
Who knew there was some kind of top secret junk yard right behind Cafe Sabor? A junk yard so secret and important that it was being guarded by two doberman demons. If you aren't a praying person, have a doberman run at you with nothing but a suitcase to shield you from those teeth of fury. Then I bet you offer up some type of a prayer. Unless you are like our photographer who just turned and tried to make friends with the dog, of course.

Any ways, we had quite the adventure getting pictures taken. It was a fun filled evening for sure. Now I can't wait for bridals and groomals to be taken (Brian thought I made up that they were groomals as an insult or something). The fun just doesn't stop!

Oh, and to add to the adventure, we ended our fun evening with dinner at Olive Garden. Where I awkwardly locked the keys in the van. We got them out luckily, pretty easily. Plus, I think I deserve a reward since I hadn't done that for almost a solid year. My freshman year of college, I basically had made friends with the campus police thanks to the many times I succeeded at locking myself out of my vehicle.

And just to let you know how much we love taking pictures, here's one for you to enjoy from last weekend after being good church-going children:  

  

Because I'm Kinda Vain

So it's the month of May. My two summer jobs do not start until June. I'm living at home for a while. Which leaves me usually hanging out with Mom during the day. This morning before going on a three mile run with my mom and her two lovely friends, she said to me,

"Kelsey, I'll pay you if you go teach PE at the grade school for me."

I sat on the couch staring at the television screen for several minutes (Will Smith kept me entertained this morning with a little bit of Fresh Prince) asking myself what I would rather do instead of let children attack me but then afterward get cash for it. In the several minutes I spent debating, I couldn't seem to think of anything else I needed to be doing that afternoon.

"Fine, I'll do it."

Hours passed and I found myself out at the school. Ready to teach PE. Weird. As I set up the balls for dodge ball, I thought back on my glory days of grade school PE.
I was a competitive child. I still am competitive, I just know how to control it better. In grade school my competitive side maybe came across as mean at times. I still remember the time we beat the boys in 5th grade kickball. They all cried. And I rubbed it in their crying faces that they had just been beat by girls. When we played car lot, it wasn't uncommon for me to make up my own car so that I would never run the risk of getting out. If you aren't familiar with the game of car lot, I'm sorry, I don't want to take the time to explain the rules to you. It's really a pointless game anyways. And dodge ball was my favorite. I was fearless when playing dodge ball. And I'm just positive that I must have thought I was much cooler than I actually was. The boys on my team at least passed me the balls after they were already out. A sure sign of respect. If you haven't already gathered the fact from this paragraph, let me just clarify:

I was a bit of a tomboy in my later grade school days.

I am glad I was this way. It limited the amount of girl drama, made me learn how to relate with the opposite sex, and stopped me from growing up too fast. I mean, I am still trying to learn the correct way to apply eyeliner. Up until a couple months ago, I had never used girly face wash to wash my face. I used a bar of Irish soap.

But back to teaching PE. . .

I was basically appalled with the sight of the first grade girls. They were lacking in the athletic department. Most of them didn't even try. A couple girls came and hung on my arm and asked for piggy back rides. I told them to go get someone out in dodge ball instead, to prove to me they deserved a piggy back ride. I had replies such as they were bored, hated the game, wanted to talk instead, etc. Most of the girls would not participate. At all. I was frustrated. I wanted to wave my fist and say,
"Come on ladies! Where is your self-respect? Show the men that you are equals with them! Get them out!"
One girl that actually was playing (she was instantly my favorite of the class) had a ball torn out of her hands by a boy. You can bet I put that kid in his place though.

Any ways, I was quite let down by the girls in PE as the day went on. They were all very lazy and girly. I saw a huge future squad of cheerleaders. Not that cheerleaders are bad. Or lazy. I'm just saying diversity is a good thing. We need some girly girls and some tomboys to make this world spin round, ya know?

At last, the 2nd grade class filed into the gym. A little person suddenly jumped on my back and let out what sounded like a war cry of some kind. Sure enough, it was my little sister Chloe. After everyone discovered I was Chloe's big sister, my popularity sky rocketed.

As the dodge balling began, I grew nervous that the girls might disappoint me again. Some of them did. A group of them sat in a circle and played clap clap games or something of the ridiculous sort. There were a couple that were twirling around in circles, which is cool I guess. But my baby sister, Chlo Jo, made me very proud. She was getting right in there with the boys. She tried dodging as best she could as well. She is not the most coordinated creature so she tripped and fell down several times. She's a bit of a class clown. The boys that were out even passed her some of the balls.
"CHLOE," they would yell and toss her a ball while encouraging her to throw it at a certain person on the other team.
Chloe even went as far as going over to the circle of girls who were holding dodge balls pretending they were babies (who does that?) and telling them she needed the fake babies to throw at the opponent.
I was beaming at my tomboy sister. I have raised her well. Okay, my mom has. But I was twelve when she was born, which made me old enough to help my mom out lots. So I have a motherly instinct or two for the girl.
Then there is my other sister, Alexis. She's older than Chloe. A few months shy of being a teenager actually. She is an aggressive kid. She isn't exactly a tomboy but very competitive. You should see her dribble a basketball. And she will run over hurdles like it's no body's business. She is not even afraid of them.

Basically, I am just proud of my little sisters. They will probably be bigger athletes than I ever was. And I'm glad that they aren't already wearing makeup like some little girls.      

Finest Hour

Over the weekend, I watched Apollo 13. Great movie.

There was a part in the movie that really jumped out at me.

Back at NASA headquarters, scientists are bustling about preparing for the astronauts to pass back through the earth's atmosphere. They are so close to getting the astronauts back home, but now there is a likely chance that the atmosphere will end up burning the astronauts right up and they'll  hit the ocean going at speeds that no one could survive.

The head honcho of NASA is there and he begins to shake his head and look at the floor. As he is looking down in shame, he says, "This is going to be the biggest disaster ever known to NASA."

Then the director of the mission (and possibly my favorite character) turns around from what he is doing and stares at his boss.
Then he says, "With all due respect sir, I believe this is going to be our finest hour."

He was right. It was their finest hour. All three astronauts lived.

Then I got thinking about how attitude determines all outcomes of any situation. The worst of situations can be turned into the most inspirational if the right attitudes are shown.

Then I asked myself,
What is my perspective? How is my attitude? What do I need to change?

In the face of a trial, I want to be able to say it will be my finest hour, rather than think the trial will result in disaster. I can allow certain things to destroy me, or I can allow them to make me stronger.
I am ready to develop the type of attitude that will allow me to have more fine hours in my life.

Trials make a bird's wings strong, so that they may learn to fly.

Little Bird Turns One Year Old

My blog turned one last week.

A Little Bird is a WHOLE whopping year old.

In honor of the special occasion, I bought a slice of cheesecake and enjoyed every bite.

Just to make your mouth water. Cheesecake must be the dessert of angels.

I also gave the blog a birthday makeover. I sketched the header with a pencil and colored the bird and nest with a Q-tip and some ink. Yeah, I'm sure not an artist. If I could choose to be blessed with any talent I don't have. . .I would probably choose to be able to create art. How would it be to see something beautiful and have the ability to recreate it on paper? I wish I knew.

Any ways, I just wanted to take a moment and thank all my readers. Thanks to my 49 followers and also, thank you to the many who just read in secret. However, secrets are overrated, so feel free to push the follow button if you have a second of your life to spare for me. A smile creeps onto my face with every new follower I realize I have. It really does mean so much to me knowing there are a few people who take time to read my thoughts and ramblings. My hope is to one day have the right to call myself a writer. 

So here is to year two in the blogging world. Maybe by the second birthday I'll have enough blogging wisdom to do a giveaway. But no promises.  

The Job Without a Paycheck

So I realize that Mother's Day has come and gone, but I do not want to let it pass without paying all mothers a small tribute on my blog.

Up until just recently, I sometimes felt frustrated that I was expected to be a mother. I know that sounds awful. However, it's a big job. And I think I have this phobia of giving birth. I just can't think about it. Don't ask me how I'll keep myself distracted for 9 months when I'm pregnant, but I need to come up with a genius plan.

I will also admit that I am a bit of a selfish person. Good mothers are not selfish.

Sometimes I want all the glory. Upon coming to college, I dreamt of having an important job where I would make money and do totally awesome things. I imagined myself traveling the world, going into dangerous areas and covering important stories, and having my mom tell people all about it back at home. I still do dream about that at times.

Having kids would make it difficult to do something like the above.

So growing up, I sat in church and said I wanted nothing more than to be a mother when I grew up, even though I felt like I was half lying.

The past few months, a fire has ignited within me. I am no longer half lying when I say I want to be a mother. It is something I know I want to do and know I should do. I am so excited to have my own little ones. Although I am now excited about motherhood, Brian and I won't be having babies for a very long time. Go back above and read of my phobia of giving birth for further reference.

Some of my favorite women in the world, after all, are mothers. The list of these ladies could go on forever, but to save time, I will only be bragging about four of them.

Camille Keller

My pretty mother. She was my first best friend as I was her first baby.

I feel so blessed that I was sent to her loving arms. She has always been a wonderful mother to me, and a wonderful example of a lady. Just last week when I got pretty sick, Brian called her while I was taking my last final and told her that I needed her help. As I walked out of my final, I listened to a message from Brian telling me my mom was leaving Weston and heading to my rescue. Luckily, I had ran my tear ducts dry the night before or I would have started crying to her when she showed up. Still, I was so relieved to see her. She took me to the doctor and then helped me scrub my apartment clean. Growing up, she constantly worked with me so I would learn how to read at a young age and she always encouraged me to use my imagination. My mom is one of those women who know how to do just about anything (lucky me), so I can turn to her when I need help. Plus, her laugh is contagious. She laughs off things that most people get upset about. She has a gift of always seeing the bright side of things. If you want to be happy and giggle at plenty of things, I recommend hanging out with my mama. Plus, she has a great sense of style and sometimes we share clothes.

Tami Weller 

My soon-to-be-mother-in-law. I am so grateful for the woman she is and the influence she has in my life. Without her, I wouldn't be the happy girl I am with a wonderful boy by my side. It is obvious what kind of mother she is if you just put Brian by her. He dotes on her and loves her so much. I know that he would do anything for his mother. I know a big part of the way Brian is, is due to the kind of woman who raised him. Tami is one of the kindest women I have ever met. She is continually sacrificing to make others around her happy, even when it means a lot of work on her part. I often have noticed all the sweet acts of service she does for others. Because of her, other people go throughout their day a little bit happier, and I think that is such a lovely thing. She is also the type of person that can befriend anyone. She is so warm, outgoing, and animated. Every time I am in her presence, she manages to make me feel special. She is such a beautiful lady, inside and out.

And Tami, if you are reading this, thanks for letting me steal your son so often. I know he is a hard one to share, because he is great. Also, thank you for raising him to be the kind of man that I want to be with forever.

Karen Reeder

Grandma Reeder. Mother of my own mom.

Many people that have known my grandma have often mentioned that I am much like her in different ways. I have always taken this as a huge compliment. Grandma Reeder is eccentric, wise, fun-loving, and a social butterfly. I don't think there is a person that dislikes my grandma. Probably because she doesn't have a single mean bone in her body. She always encouraged me to be different, creative, and let my imagination soar. Thinking back on my childhood, I often remember nights at Grandma's when I begged her to tell me stories of her life, and she gladly told them. My grandma Reeder is a free spirit and she sees the world as other people can't see it. She has special eyes for noticing small and simple things. She has always been super supportive of everything I have done throughout life, as well. I think she made it to more of my high school sporting events than most kids' parents. While on the court warming up, I would wait for my classy grandma to walk in wearing her pretty scarf and fur coat, and she would always wave at me. She always told me that she wanted to be my #1 Fan. . .and that she is.

Sharon Keller 

The woman who raised my father.

One of the most incredible people I know.

Grandma Keller got married at a very young age and did not ever finish high school. Don't let that fool you though. I can honestly say, she is one of the smartest people I have ever met. She knows so much more than most college graduates I know. It probably comes from all the reading she does. This is a lady who has sacrificed her life in order to raise a family. And because of that, she has so many people who adore her. She is a small, happy lady who carries an air of simple beauty and class. She is a very hard worker. She doesn't often run off and play. You can find her in the kitchen or in the yard, and she still looks like a movie star while doing it. Grandma Keller also has a sense of adventure. My fondest childhood memory with her is going in search of caterpillars every summer that would later turn into monarch butterflies.

Grandma Keller is such an inspiration to me. Her example reminds me of how important my role of a woman is.    

“Motherhood is more than bearing children, though it is certainly that. It is the essence of who we are as women. It defines our very identity, our divine stature and nature, and the unique traits our Father gave us.”

                                                                                                                   -Sheri Dew

Gag Reflex

"Now I'm going to swab the back of your throat. We need a sample of your mucus to check for strep."
Oh, how lovely.
Of course, it will probably be a breeze. One quick swab and then my throat will be left alone.

"You have an hour left," announced my stats professor from the front of the room. I glanced at the clock and then looked quickly back at my paper. I had not made much progress in the last fifty minutes. I quickly thumbed through all the blank pages I had left.

Come on, brain! Think!!

I studied this stuff for three hours straight the night before with my study group. I could do everything fine then. But as much as I tried thinking, I couldn't get past how heavy my head felt. Was it just me, or was it swelling? I felt like I was going to tip over from the weight of it.

Ah! Focus, Kelsey. T-tests. Not mucus-filled head. Work out the T-test. 

She walked forward, holding the swab out. She had put a mask over her face. I felt like an infected animal. Oh, how I despise being sick. I despise it with all my being.
As she reached her swab toward me and told me to open wide, I tried to think back on the last time I had been in one of these horrible doctor offices, being treated for some despicable illness. I couldn't remember when the last time was. It had been a couple years, at the least. I lost my train of thought after I realized her hand was in my mouth. It was going back further. And further. And further.

"Ten more minutes!" 

Whoa, what? Only ten? Where did the last fifty minutes go?  

I feel my nose start to drip. How embarrassing.

I reach down and grab another tissue from my tissue box I brought from home. How embarrassing again. Stupid tissue box. It seems to be grinning menacingly at me, saying, "Go on, Kelsey. Take another tissue. Wipe your nose raw."

I quietly wipe and turn back to the problem. I start plugging things into my calculator, praying it will reveal an answer to me that might make sense.

I only have ten more minutes. Well, probably nine now.

I feel the swab run against the back of my throat.
That wasn't bad.
Oh, it wasn't over yet. This lady was swab happy.
She kept rubbing,and it almost felt as if she was rubbing with an almost vicious nature. I started feeling discomfort.
"This may bring your gag reflex on. Don't back away from me."
I don't feel like those two sentences should be used together. Unless you are a bulimic and your finger is talking to you, maybe. But even that would be very strange.
I feel my body coil and I begin to gag. My body starts backing away, as it should.
Fight or flight.
Good body.
However, I try to do as I am told and demand my body to give into the evil gagging swab.

"Only two more minutes!" 

I am trying not to panic. 

It doesn't work. 

I about knock everything off my desk, and in the process, the pile of used tissues in my lap goes falling across the floor. 

I feel like a disgusting, disgrace of a person at this point. 

I frantically grab in different directions for the mucus covered tissues, hoping no one noticed. 

I am running out of time, so I start to guess and just write things down.

Maybe by writing something down, I'll manage to pick up a couple points from the darn 20 problem question I forgot how to do.

I am really gagging now and it is bringing on my awful dry cough. Except thanks to our friend, Mr. Swab, it is no longer a dry cough. I cough in her face, sending spit and who knows what else straight her way. I quickly cover my mouth as she pulls the swab out. I am so utterly embarrassed.
Good thing she put that mask on.

I gather up my things and quickly hand my test in.

I walk outside. 

The weather is unbelievably nice today. 

Too bad I can't enjoy it. 

I pass people who are out enjoying the nice day, wearing shorts and trying to catch a tan. 

I look at the ground and pull my sweatshirt tightly around my fevering body. 

Why must my nearly flawless immune system fail me now?

I sure hope I passed stats. I want to be done with math already.

If you run into me, I could sure use a hug. I promise I won't cough on you.    

Bittersweet

Here I sit in a basically empty room, staring at a closet with a few bare hangers swaying slowly back at me. This is the same room that has served as refuge and sanctuary to me for the past two years. And that is the same blasted small closet that I cussed at daily for not allowing sufficient floor space for all my shoes. It is strange to think I will be leaving this humble bedroom and never come back again. Last year, I knew I would be gone with a few passing months of summer, only to move back in with the start of a new school year. Not now. Nothing will be the same. In a few days, everything I have grown familiar with since I graduated high school will be gone. Maybe not exactly gone, but different.

Yesterday at work, we watched Fox and the Hound (yes, I sometimes watch Disney movies at work; be jealous). Fox and the Hound is probably the saddest Disney movie known to mankind. All day yesterday was spent moving things from my apartment. And all day I had felt empty; emotionless. Until I watched that movie. As I sat watching the story about the fox and the hound that couldn't be friends, a wave of sadness hit me. That is when I realized I felt like Todd the Fox. No, my best friend is not a hound dog who is trained to kill me. That would be ridiculous. And no, I don't live with an old lady and she is not setting me free into the woods. However, I am entering a new transition of life. I will soon be going into the woods to start again.

Summers are usually carefree and lazy. This summer will not be so. I know I will still find time for fun. There will still be beautiful moments of carefree laziness. However, I am going to openly admit that this summer might be really hard on me.

I am moving home. I am excited to spend time with my family. However, I am nervous that many of my friends won't be around, and I'll need them.

  My mornings will be spent with my friend, Goldie the van, traveling to Logan every day to work two jobs. So I can pay rent for the summer while Brian is gone.

The majority of my dates with Brian this summer will not be like last summer. We will not have time to hike, feed ducks, go on runs, eat food, swim, and watch movies up the canyon. We will mostly have Skype dates. I know I am being a baby about Brian being gone, but I don't like it. I know I am selfish, but I still don't think it's fair he is leaving so much. I am excited he is studying abroad and I know it is a blessing that this job opportunity came up. All the same, I am still afraid.

After all, I am human and all humans fear the unknown at least a little bit.

It is strange to think I will never live with Shayla again. It is finally just sinking in. For the past two years, she has just been in the room next to me. We have a spare bedroom, but Shayla thinks 'it would be weird' to live with me and Brian. Whatever. Just kidding, Shay. I love you. Thanks for putting up with me.

Then our friend, Dallin, is leaving for the summer. He is leaving in two days. Driving all the way to Tennessee to do summer sales. The other day, he was packing some things up and it made me feel sick. I want him to be here in the summer. I want it to be like last summer when Dallin, Brian, and I went to the local pool in the evenings. Now I might have to go by myself. I want Dallin to be here for our wedding in August. But I know this is for the best and I hope he makes bank over in Tennessee. Dallin. . .I will miss you. And I owe you big for helping me pass stats this semester.

I am a person who likes change. All the same, death is also one of life's many changes, and we all take time to mourn death. So with this change in my life coming, today I am mourning for a moment. I know beautiful things are coming my way. Beautiful things take work though.

Tomorrow morning I have my last final. Then summer will be upon me. Next time I come back to school, my world will be different. I will be married. How absolutely enthralling!

This summer will bring many changes. Changes are becoming a daily routine nowadays. That is fine, but I will still always think back on days when the fox and the hound were friends, before they grew apart. Growing up is grand. But it's still just a little bittersweet.    

That Sweet 17

Today was my little brother's 17th birthday.

In order to make him feel loved, I will give him the same special treatment I gave Bri Guy.

So here are 17 random facts off the top of my head about Ronnie Jace Keller.

Drum roll please.

1. Jace was the most adorable little blonde haired child. He was a momma's boy and he couldn't pronounce his r's. His speech impediment was even more of a joy since his favorite animal was a 'hewmit cwab'. 

2. Jace finds happiness in arguing with people. He will sometimes argue just to argue. It makes sense that he wants to be a lawyer someday. 

3. Adults totally admire Jace. I have heard several moms go on about how they want their daughters to marry/date the boy. 

4. Jace has missed me a lot since I moved out. He never comes straight out and says it, but he implies it plenty. 

5. Jace and I spent many summers side by side, acting as slaves for our father. He put us to work doing the most ridiculous chores. Although I hated it at the time, I look back and am grateful now. During those long, hot hours in the sun is when my relationship with Jace really blossomed. We had many a deep talk or sometimes just venting sessions about how ridiculous the chore at hand was. 

6. Jace usually has an eye for style. He is a bit of an American Eagle addict though. He might as well just model for them. He owns their whole men's collection. 

7. Jace is a hoarder. He collects weird junk. Once it was Jones soda bottles, another time it was water bottles. When he was younger, my mom discovered a drawer full of old crab leg shells. Gross. Oober gross. He apparently snuck them home after every outing to Red Lobster. 

8. Jace has a bad habit of mumbling or not wanting to talk sometimes. 

9. Jace plays Guitar Hero on expert. 

10. Jace is one of the strongest and most determined people I know. He had a pretty nasty injury about a year ago and he's just coming back from it. Just in time for track season. I know his ankle sometimes still hurts, but he never complains. I never heard him complain during the course of his injury either. I would not have been able to maintain the attitude he has if put in his shoes. 

11. To add to the previous point, Jace broke over 8 bones throughout his foot, ankle, and leg while pole vaulting at track districts last year. He is back at it this year, working on qualifying for state in pole vault. Can you believe he is not even afraid to compete again? I would be. 

12. Jace is the genius of the family. He got a 30 on his ACT and wasn't even excited. We're talkin' he glanced at the score, threw it to the side, and was irritated about it the rest of the day. You can bet I would have been jumping up and down with glee if I 'd have gotten a 30 on the ACT. 

13. Jace has the worst taste in movies. No offense, Jace. His favorites are the really dumb ones that are supposed to be funny. Jace laughs at them in all their stupidity. 

14. Jace was always a little guy for his age. He was always smaller and weaker than me, and I always beat him up in every fight we ever had. Ha suddenly hit a growing spurt and is now quite tall. Much taller than me. Yet still weaker and I can still beat him up. 

15. Jace has a huge heart. It is one of my favorite things about him. 

16. When Jace was small, we teased him and said, "Ronnie Jace has a funny face." 

17. Jace is the biggest Beatles fan I have ever had the privilege of knowing. 

So, there you have it. Happy Birthday, Jace. I hope it was great! You better wear the nice looking button-up I purchased for you. You'll make it look good. 17 is a great year. One of my favorites out of the 20 years I have now been alive. Good luck on elections this week, my dear boy.    

Thrifting Machine

One man's junk is another man's treasure.

I found this to be extremely true, especially while thrift shopping for clothes.

I recently started reading a book called Green is the New Black. Some of it was slightly irritating (because I find the whole 'being green is in style so I am suddenly going to turn into an environment conscious person cuz it's cool' thing slightly irritating). However, there are many helpful tips in the book for using sustainability in your dress, which I am a fan of. I love getting clothes for cheap and I also love keeping certain articles of clothes long enough that they are back in style after the passing of a few years.

So in all my thriftiness, I decided to take a day and go shopping at good ol' Deseret Industries with some of my gal friends. We had an awesome time! Happy to say, we all made some great purchases. I made way too many purchases however. We are talking I carried a mountain of clothes out of the place.

However, the whole mountain only cost me $30. At other stores, you can't even get a whole outfit for $30.

Check out my new treasures:

Treasure #1: Hippie Dress

 My lovely cousin, Megan, pulled this dress off a hanger and begged me to try it on. She shoved it into my arms exclaiming that it reminded her of my style. I looked at the long, ugly green thing and thought to myself, "So you're telling me you think my style sucks. ." However, I told her I would try it on and maybe get a laugh out of it.

Don't ever judge something before you try it on, because it can look completely different when on the body. This was the case with the hippie dress. I put it on and fell in love. I am crazy about the bead work and it fits me nicely too.

Treasure #2: My MoTab Dress 

 Don't pay attention to the fact that you can completely see through this dress. I'll fix that for when I go out in public. Brian despises this dress, which only makes me want to wear it more. He says it looks like I am in the Mormon Tabernacle Choir. Who knows, maybe it once was a part of the choir. That is the wonderful part about thrift shopping. Each article of clothing already had a past owner, which leaves a story attached to the clothing. It is glorious, really. I was excited about the color of this dress, the vintage buttons in the front, and the belt. I'm gonna make it cute. Just wait, it'll grow on BWell.

#3: Sweet Girly Dress

 This dress is absolutely adorable when paired with leggings, a cardigan, and boots. Shay Baybay found this dress and thought I might like it. She was quite right. Quite right indeed. It makes me feel young and vibrant. Like a little school girl. Yeah for jump roping and playing four square!

#4: Grandpa Shorts

 I am a fan of the grandpa shorts. They have a high waist plus they are bright blue. Where does a girl go wrong, really? I will confess, I will have to get used to the way this gem fits. But the grandpa shorts shall make a fun summer staple. After all, who doesn't want to look like an old person?  

I went ahead and combined #5 and #6 for your pleasure.

#5: I Ride Wild Mustangs Blouse

 I almost didn't buy this blouse, which would have been a great shame. After all, it was only $3.00. This shirt makes me feel like a hardcore cowgirl. It even has shoulder pads. [No, I'm not kidding]. You can bet you will see me sporting this at all the summertime rodeos.

#6: Aztec Zigzag Skirt

This skirt is sa-weet! I like the way it fits, the colors, the fun shapes. Boy, I am excited to wear this out. I just can't resist a fun and comfortable skirt.

So as you can see, I went a little thrift shopping crazy. At least I went thrift shopping crazy and not Urban Outfitters shopping crazy. Much more kind to the wallet.

Randee, Megan, and Shayla: We must have another DI shopping date again soon. Pretty, pretty please.

So readers, do not fear thrift shopping. You really can find some treasures. Just make sure to run them through the washer and all will be very well.