My Anchor-Part 1

The knock comes on my apartment door and I know exactly who will be standing behind it. It will be the same boy who came to my apartment for the first time about three months before. However, three months before he came as my home teacher and now he is coming as my date.

* * * * 

I still remember the first time he came with his roommate, Dallin. They didn't give us a solid lesson, but we had a nice visit with them. Shayla (my roommate) and I had been watching A Walk to Remember and Brian gave us ruthless crap about being curled up in blankets, watching it. I liked Brian from the beginning. I thought he was funny and quick-witted. I remember as him and Dallin left, I thought to myself that I could see myself being friends with Brian Weller. I even said to Shayla as they shut the door,
"I liked that blonde kid." (I already had forgotten his name) "He's pretty funny. And he is pretty cute too, actually."

But a month passed and we didn't become friends. I saw him at the gym a few days before Christmas break and attempted to be friendly, but that basically backfired. It was slightly embarrassing because a guy was following me around the gym, videotaping me. It was my freshman year of college and I was part of a group called 'The Fab Freshmen'. The university was making a series of videos to put online, basically to document our first year at college. Since I spent a good majority of my free time at the gym, that is where we decided to do some of the filming for my part in the video. So after getting some clips of me running on the indoor track, we headed upstairs to the weights. The man with the video camera was walking in front of me. Then I saw my blonde home teacher walking toward us. He said hi to the man with the video camera. They knew each other. Then I smiled at Brian and waved my dorky wave even though I was standing right next to him, and let out a very chipper, "hi there!" Brian came to a halt, gave me a very blank stare which made me feel insanely awkward, and replied with an, "Um, hi."

He didn't remember me! He had no idea who I was! Man, I felt like an idiot.

A couple days later after my last final, my mom and sisters were in town doing Christmas shopping and offered to pick me up. So I accepted the offer. As I walked outside through the snow, I spotted my mom's Cadillac parked next to a white Ford Ranger. A blonde boy was sitting inside the Ranger. A blonde boy! Brian Weller! My home teacher! I thought about how just days before I made a fool of myself at the gym by acting like we were best friends and he didn't even remember my face. Well, I didn't want him to see me now and remember. I quickly shuffled through the snow, to my mom's vehicle, and shut the door as fast as I could. I looked back to see my sister, Lexi, with her face pressed against the window, obviously staring at Brian Weller.
"Alexis, don't do that!"
"How come?"
"Well. . .it's not polite to stare."
"Do you know him?"
She was now pointing at him and I swear she hadn't blinked once yet.
"Er. . sort of. I guess. Well. . .he is my home teacher."
Then my mom chimes in,
"Oh really? You should say hi to him."
"No. Really Mom, he's fine. Besides, he doesn't even remember who I am. I tried saying hi the other day."
"What's his name?"
"I think it's Brian."

Lexi had now started pounding on the window, yelling Brian's name, trying very hard to get his attention. I felt my body slide down deeper into the seat.
"Mom, make her stop!"
"What's his last name?"
"I don't remember. Will you please tell Lexi to stop?"

I turned to look out the window and found my eyes meeting with his. I quickly turned away, hoping he hadn't recognized me.

But the boy who I thought didn't recognize me, in fact, did. When I got back to school in January, after a nice Christmas break, I was told by a neighbor girl that Brian Weller found me attractive.
"He doesn't even know who I am."
"Oh believe me, he knows who you are."
And I discovered that he did. The next week in church I paid closer attention and caught him staring at me several times while he sat at the sacrament table. That led to being facebook friends, which led to exchanging phone numbers, which led to a series of texts, which led to him coming over in the evening and playing songs on his guitar, which led to making pizza in my kitchen, which now led to a date. Our first. The first of what would end up being many. Thousands. Maybe even millions.

* * * *

I prance toward the door and pull it open.

"Hey Brian!"

His welcoming smile that I am beginning to grow quite fond of greets me.

"Hi! You look really nice."

I brush off this compliment like I do for so many compliments that come from the mouths of males. Compliments are just a form of manipulation. Manipulation so that the male race can get action from girls. I am no idiot. My brain tends to think more like the brain of a boy than that of a girl. So I know from my own instincts and from years of dating that this is how the system works. I have learned the games of the male and so I created my own games to throw back at them. To make it more fun.

"Oh. You look good too. Come in and tell me what we're doing on this date already." 

I had sent him a text earlier that day, asking what we were doing but he had shortly replied it was a surprise. 

Brian walks into my kitchen and lets out a chuckle, 

"I actually don't know what we're doing." 

Oh boy. I should have seen this one coming. When he told me it was a surprise that had really meant he had no clue what to do and he was trying to buy time. Looks like we will end up going bowling, which I despise. I am lucky to get a score of 90 in bowling and I am not the kind to be a good sport when it comes to things I lose at. I am not good at playing the ditsy girl who giggles when I get a gutter ball. I am the kind who gets frustrated. And I am not good at acting impressed when my date gets a strike. It makes me angry. Angry that he would bring me on a date to do something that he will obviously beat me at. I have always been a sore loser.

I feel sarcasm bubbling up inside of me. My hands are on my hips. I feel a playful smile creep across my face. 

"Oh, I see. So it looks like I'll be going on yet another dinner and a movie date. I am getting to be an expert on those." 

Rude of me to act as if I have plenty of other boys I'm going on dates with. A lie as well since I've been on a bit of a drought when it comes to my dating life. Of course there is the boy I have been infatuated with since I moved to Logan, but he never takes me out on dates. He is way too cheap and too much of a jerk. Probably the reason I am infatuated with him. I tend to show interest in the jerks and turn all the super nice boys away. He usually just randomly calls and tells me to come over. Which I usually do. And we cuddle and kiss sometimes. Humiliating, I know. But I feel I almost need him. As a security blanket or something. Then there is one other boy who has recently been taking me out on very nice dates. He actually went to my high school but he was enough older than me that we never really talked. But I can't even tell if he is really interested in me. As far as I can tell, I don't think I'm interested in him as anything more than a friend. He doesn't have much of a sense of humor. But we have nice conversations. Usually about books. So it feels like we have more of a book club going than him actually courting me.

"Hey, now don't get carried away! I'm not taking you on a stupid dinner and movie date. I'm not that lame of a date. I have some things planned," Brian says. 

He pulls a notepad out from his jacket pocket. 

"Do you have a deck of cards?" 

I retrieve a deck of cards from a drawer and he begins shuffling them. I look over at the notepad to find that he has written down date ideas as well as different places to eat for each of the different cards within a card deck. And all the date ideas sound way fun.

Make a model car together and race it.

Bleach colored t-shirts for each other.

Go people watching.

Photo scavenger hunt.

This long list of creative ideas must have taken a good chunk of time to think up. I am impressed. This is when I realize that Brian Weller is a creative guy. And I like that. Creative guys are hard to come across these days. Even the idea of using a deck of cards to decide our fate is a nice creative touch.

He is now holding the cards out for me to choose. The first card I choose is to decide where we will eat. It comes out as Tandoorian Oven. Neither of us have been there. It is a strange Indian food restaurant inside of a gas station. Sounds a bit sketchy, but it will be an adventure. And I always like trying new foods. The second card is to decide what we will do after dinner. The card tells us we will be bleaching t-shirts. Brian tells me he has never actually tried it but that it should be like a tie-dye shirt but reversed. Instead of adding a design of color to a white shirt, we will be bleaching a design into a colored shirt. Sounds cool to me. So I put my coat on, ready for this fun date to begin. But before we leave, Brian asks if I want to see a card trick. 

"Sure, you can show me one of your card tricks," I say in a teasing voice and pat his shoulder. 

"Hey, don't make fun of me. So I'm kind of a nerd sometimes." 

He has me choose a card, shuffles them, and starts going through them to find my card which is hidden somewhere in the deck. He passes my card. I try not to smirk. Then before he flips over another card he says, "Let's make this interesting. What do I get if the next card I turn over is your card?" 

I think a moment. 

"So if it's not my card, then do I get something?" 

"Sure," Brian replies. 

"A mix cd." 

Mix cds are one of my favorite gifts in the world. 

Brian is smiling, "Deal." 

Instead of flipping the next card over, he reaches to the cards that have already been flipped and pulls my card out. 

"Is this your card?"   



Truth Tuesday

• I skipped the gym today and went and bought a cute new outfit for the airport this Saturday instead. I know; I'm flawed, I'm a girl, I like clothes sometimes. I did do an ab workout if that helps my situation out in the slightest.

• I love my siblings but living at home can be hard. Really hard. At least it has convinced me that my plan of waiting a very long time to have children is a good one. However, there have been many fun moments and it is better than sitting in an empty apartment in Logan, thinking about how Brian is not there. Yeah, being at home is pretty nice.

• Speaking of being at home, I have noticed that I am using my Idaho accent much more often. Yes, it is an actual real accent. I even read an article for my sociology class about the Southeastern Idaho drawl. I have it. Not all the time, but I fall in and out of it. While at school, I learned to conceal it pretty well. Especially when the moment came to be professional. After this summer, I'll have to break the habit all over again. I honestly don't mind though. I sort of have this sick small-town Idaho pride and I like the way I drrrrrag my rrrrr's out. 

• Last week, I went four days without washing my hair. Gross, I know. It is summer though and for some reason during the summer months, if I can get away with acting like a barefooted child that lives in the woods then I take advantage of it. 

• Sometimes I get sick of Michelle Obama. I don't know her and I'm sure she's a very wonderful lady. But really, all the constant talk of how stylish she is? I find most of her clothes ugly. Like she is trying too hard or something. And I'll give her credit, she is certainly much more stylish than the first ladies of the past. But let's get real, the recent first ladies we have had are all like twenty years older than Mrs. Obama. And many older ladies seem to worry a lot about wearing age appropriate things. Mrs. Obama is not that old. She should still be dressing cute or something would be wrong with her. My mom is just a couple years younger than her and have you seen my mom? My mom is hot! Maybe they should start featuring Mrs. Keller in fashion magazines. 

• Speaking of my hot mom, she recently asked me (in a slightly sarcastic manner) if I would be changing 'A Little Bird Told Me' into a married person blog. Make it into 'The Wellers' or 'Brian and Kelsey Love Each Other' or something like that. I firmly replied, "Of course not." So rest assured, Little Bird is here to stay. I love Brian, but this is my blog. Not his. However, he will obviously be included in many stories since he is sort of a big part of my life. 

   

My Anchor

Recently, a girl I work with asked me a question.

What was the question you ask?

She asked when the moment was that I knew I wanted to marry Brian.

Oh boy.

I really struggled at answering. Not because I don't know the answer, but because I have such a hard time just oozing love stories from my clumsy mouth. Plus, if I had the talent of oozing love stories from my lips, I have a feeling I would have kept the girl around listening for much longer than she desired. 

So I have made a decision. I want to answer this girl's question through a series of blog posts. Because as clumsy as my mouth might be, I feel at ease when I can think the words out in just the right way and put them down on paper. And maybe our love story isn't some magical storybook tale (let's get real, those are usually shallow any way) but I still think it deserves some recognition. Or just some remembrance. I want to write it down while it's still fresh on my mind. 

Tomorrow I will start PART 1 of this story. The story of how Brian and I came to like each other, how that like grew into love, and how that love made us decide we want to be best pals forever. Thus marriage. 

And to all those warriors out there who laugh in the face of love, I apologize. I know how painful stories like this can be for you. I know because I used to be one of you. But I'm tellin you, once the love bug bites, there is no getting over such an illness. But I don't mind. I quite enjoy this illness and I no longer laugh in the face of love. Now I just smile and let the stuff surround me. And it's nice here, charming actually, being surrounded by love. 

Stay tuned.

Because Hard Things Are Worth It

When I was a teenager (which was such a long time ago) I remember if I had to run a mile or more, it seemed like a huge feat. Well, since I am now an adult and I have a fear that my metabolism will suddenly slow down causing me to grow obese from the great amounts of chocolate I consume, I now run many miles.

Last week, I actually ran 10 miles. Now for you marathoners out there, this probably sounds like a warm-up run for you. But for me, it is a very big deal. I woke up that morning, knowing exactly what I was about to do but I tried not to think about it. Me, my mom, and two other lovely ladies started our run out at the reservoir up the canyon. The first half of the run was just peachy. I felt awesome. My body felt strong and the beauty around me of trees, streams of mountain water, and rock formations kept me entertained. Then I made it out of the canyon and past my house a little ways, and everything took a turn.

I found out recently that I have this thing the doctor called trochanteric bursitis. Sounds like a deadly disease, right? Well, it is really not. I guess a lot of runners or people that ride bicycles develop it. I would give you the exact definition of what it is and does, but quite honestly I don't know exactly. And I don't want to bore you. What I do know is that it sends a sharp pain up my thigh and then it makes my hips ache.

Well, as I was running up a giant hill, the sharp pain shot up my left thigh, and pretty soon it happened to the right as well. I tried ignoring the pain and I kept running. The pain grew stronger and it became difficult to ignore. I felt myself slowing down, but I forced myself to put one foot in front of the other. There came a point that I almost started crying because it hurt so bad. This was the worst it had ever been. I tried rubbing the pain out while I continued to run down the highway. Then I tried to put my focus on something else besides the pain in my hips. This idea didn't seem to help.

I began to notice instead how hot the rays of sun felt as they beat down on my face.
I noticed how boring the landscape now was.
Just fences and fields of hay. And a highway that seemed to go on forever.
I noticed how dry my mouth felt as I moved my tongue of sandpaper across the insides of my cheeks.
I realized how badly I wanted water.
I wanted to feel it inch down my parched throat.
I wanted a bowl of strawberries.
I wanted to bite into the red fruit and taste the sweet juice explode in my mouth.

 Then I just thought about how I wanted to quit. How I wanted to be done running. I told myself I wasn't a distance runner and wondered what had ever motivated me to try running ten miles.

At this point I probably had only a mile and a half left to run. I really wanted to give up. It was too hard.

But then something really neat happened.

I have said before that I feel like if I had a symbol, it would be a little bird. Hence, the title of my blog. Well, just as I was playing with the idea of walking, a little bird told me to keep going. I kid you not. A precious yellow-bellied songbird landed on a fence post near me and started to sing. Then it playfully flew ahead of me and landed again on the fence. I told myself to just run to where the bird was sitting on the fence. And each time I made it to the bird, it took flight, landed a few fence posts down, and let out a few cheery notes of song. The little bird motivated me to keep going.

By the time I made it past the fence, I was on the home stretch. I felt my legs carry my body a little faster past the row of houses, across the street, and to the finish. Then I was free to collapse on the cool grass and I was given a tall glass of ice water. Also, later that day I had a bowl of strawberries. Wonderful.

Although it was hard to run 10 miles and I was tempted to give up at times, I'm glad I didn't stop. It is so rewarding to know that I accomplished something I probably thought would be impossible a couple years ago. Plus, I burnt over 1,000 calories on that run so I indulged in eating all kinds of foods that night and didn't even have to feel guilty.

Just like my 10 mile run, sometimes life can be hard. But it is always worth it. Hard things only make us stronger, better people. Speaking of hard things, Brian gets home on Saturday. Yes, this Saturday. 6 more days. The finish line is in sight!

 

Truth Tuesday

I want to try this new thing on my blog. It is little thing called 'Truth Tuesday'. I got this idea from a friend's blog. Her blog is a little of this a little of that . Feel free to check it out because it is wonderful. Truth Tuesday will consist of me basically being very honest and just confessing a list of my worries, thoughts, and happiness. I feel like it could be a very therapeutic thing. Like a big imaginary bubble bath for my brain. And we all know how soothing bubble baths can be. I know for a fact that they are very soothing after a ten mile run. I learned that yesterday.

Any ways, on with the truths!

• I am beginning to think that a 5 month engagement was too long, ha. I have mixed emotions. It has been so nice to have plenty of time to get things done and not stress. At the same time, I feel like I'm getting cabin fever. It's like I'm on a ship and we can finally see land, but I can't wait for the ship to get there.

• For the past month, I have been beating myself up hard thinking I don't have enough purpose to my life. I am the type of person who always thinks I need to be living with a certain purpose in mind. If I feel like I am not doing enough, I beat myself up and feel horrible. I have been realizing the past couple weeks though, how cool I really am. I don't mean for that to sound arrogant. I really am not an arrogant person. Believe me, I will jump on all the things wrong with me before anyone has a chance. But I'm realizing I need to stop attacking myself because it makes me feel awful. And as I look around, I realize I am actually quite an accomplished twenty year old. I suddenly feel like I am right where I am supposed to be at the moment and I am heading in the right direction. And that, my friends, is one of the greatest feelings in the world.

• My skin is getting browner. That makes me giddy. Over the weekend, I got a tan line on my neck from the shirt I was wearing. This is great news. Great news indeed.

• I have realized probably my biggest fear. Losing my spouse unexpectedly. I don't think I would be able to function if something happened to Brian. I would turn into the lady that sits in her room, wearing her wedding dress, and mumbling incoherently. I have so much respect for people that live without their loved one close to them for an extended period of time. Just the past month has taken such a toll on me. It's not like I am super dependent or clingy, but Brian is my absolute best friend. I am used to doing everything with him. I almost feel like I've lost a part of myself with him gone. I can't wait for him to get back here. July 2nd will be one superb day!

• I like babies. I think they are precious. But I have never been one to maul a baby, talk in a squeaky voice to them, or be the first to ask someone if I can hold their baby. I feel like this alienates me from the rest of the female species. Sometimes I force myself to be baby crazy so I can fit in, because I almost feel like I'd be insulting women and babies everywhere if I did not. Is something wrong with me? I often wonder. I guess some people are a little afraid of babies. I am not afraid of them. I just act different. I've noticed I talk to young children differently than most do. I almost talk to them like we're the same age. Maybe that's a bad thing. Maybe it's an okay thing. Or maybe it's even a good thing. I dunno. All I know is I better wait a good four years or so before I contemplate this mom business.

• I am so bad at making new friends. I need to take a class on how to make new friends. Or read a 'Making Friends for Dummies' book or something. I feel like I am so awkward when I try to let people know who I am as a person. I love getting to know new people and ask them questions, but when the roles are reversed, I don't know what to do. I don't know how to talk about myself or open up this thick wall that somehow got built. Maybe that is why I blog. It is easier to communicate how I feel or think when I can write it out instead of just say it.

• I like my jobs and I like working at my jobs, but lately I've had a hard time motivating myself to want to go to work. I don't know how I would function if my jobs weren't so much fun. I just hate the thought of us human beings wasting so much of our lives away on going to work. Wake up, go to work, make money, come home, eat, sleep, wake up and do it all over again. I don't want to fall into the routine. Money has never been important to me. I like having enough money to know that I am safe. But I just hate that the world seems to revolve around money. I would rather own my time than lots of money.   

I think that concludes the first Truth Tuesday. I will again confess all my deepest truths a week from today.

I Feel Like a Silly School Girl. . .

 

because I made a paper chain counting down the days until our wedding day. Remember those ones you made in grade school out of red and green paper to count down until Christmas? Yes, I made one of those.

I also made a special paper marking the day Brian gets back to the country and to my arms. When I first created the paper chain, this paper was toward the middle. It is now getting oh so close to the edge.

Only 12 more days and he is home!

Another reason I feel like a silly school girl is because I blush and giggle each time I think about these flowers. . .

BWell still loves me after all. He sent me flowers in the mail. They are starting to die now, but I don't have the heart to throw them away.

So as you can see, it had been a while since I posted a mushy Brian post. I thought it was due time. Besides you're only engaged once (well, in mine and Brian's case any ways) so I need to make as many people gag as possible. And I only have 46 more days left to keep the gagging coming. I know this count of days because I have a paper chain.

Now take a peek at this picture and feel sick over how in love we are. . .

See? So so much love.

Solid As a Rock

When I was a little girl, I remember the many summer evenings I spent outside, anxiously waiting for my dad's truck to pull into the driveway. And when the truck finally did come around the corner, my face lit up and my little legs sprinted toward the vehicle. I then jumped into my dad's arms. He pulled me up around his neck and I gave him a kiss on the cheek.

It was always a wonderful feeling when Dad would come home from work. It still is a wonderful feeling. 

My dad is the hardest worker I know. Sometimes I don't give him enough credit. Because not only is my dad a hard worker, but the work he does is awfully hard work. I doubt I could make it a full day doing what he does. My dad rented a building on his 18th birthday and started up his very own tire shop. Now, years later, he has created a business that puts plenty of food on the table and keeps our family comfortable and completely debt free. My dad spends many hours at the shop. Not only does he run all the finances since he is the owner, but he is in it for the long haul (literally). He changes tires and does oil changes. He goes on a lot of service calls to change tractor tires and blown out semi tires. It is hard work. And I know many nights, he comes home exhausted and his body is probably even in pain.

I will never forget one summer afternoon when I was home alone and my dad pulled up unexpectedly. I instantly had a sick feeling since my dad never came home early in the middle of a week. When he walked in the door, my sick feelings grew into fear when I saw my dad's ashen colored face and he was wincing in pain. He was holding one of his hands in the other hand. 

"Dad, what's wrong?" 

He moved his hand aside to show me a grotesque thumb. Or what used to be his thumb. It was now a mashed up chunk of flesh, blood oozing over his hand. Not only that, but the thumb was merely hanging by a thick layer of skin. Just hanging on for dear life to his hand. 

I have never been one to get grossed out by blood and such, but I did not like the sight of my dad's hand like this. Turns out, while changing a tractor tire, the tire had slipped and crushed his thumb. 

I hated seeing my dad in pain. Because my dad is always the strong one. He is the one to always calm my nerves and make me feel safe. 

Luckily, he did not lose his thumb. 

This Father's Day (and every day) I am thankful for my dad and his awesome example. I am thankful for his work ethic. I am thankful for his good attitude. I am thankful for a man in my life that everyone adores. 

I am also thankful I have been able to find a man I want to marry that has so many of the traits my dad has. 

Thanks Dad, and I will always be your angel.    

A Countdown of Sorts

Ten things I wish I could say to ten different people (but don't say their name):

1. You are a lousy friend. I am getting sick of making all the effort.
2. Will you just give me a really long hug, let me cry a while, and then forget it happened?
3. I have always wanted to be best friends with a girl like you. You are just so cool. So, let's be best friends.
4. I love you so much, but you are just kind of boring.
5. You have so much potential. Please choose to be happy, stop drinking, move out of Preston, ID, meet a nice guy, and comb your hair.
6. I am sorry if I hurt you. You are my favorite.
7. You are the most unorganized person ever. You make my face hurt.
8. I think other people have more trials than you and probably whine a lot less. People are starving right now, and you walk around complaining while you flaunt your way too expensive sephora eye shadow.
9. Please grow up. You should have ten years ago.
10. I love you. I love you more than I ever thought was possible. And the best part is, I know every passing day, I will only grow to love you more. And even though having you away feels like it's killing me, I know holding you in my arms again will be so rewarding. Let's grow old and crazy together.


Nine things about myself:

1. Sometimes I talk to myself. Even more often I sing to myself.
2. I am slightly obsessive when it comes to exercising.
3. As a child, I stuttered when I got excited. And as a young adult, I still have that problem.
4. I have cracked my chin open resulting in stitches a total of three times. Apparently I have this problem of falling on my face.
5. I wish I had arms like Cameron Diaz
6. I like painting my nails bright and obnoxious colors.
7. I have this fear of driving on the freeway next to semi trucks. They make me flinch a little.
8. I have a very loud laugh.
9. I like waking up early in the morning. Especially when I have no where to go. So I can just go about and enjoy the beginning of the day.



Eight ways to win my heart:

1. Must have a sense of humor
2. Must be spontaneous
3. Must have standards and strong beliefs
4. Must adore my eccentric ways
5. Must sing songs to me and play the guitar
6. Must want a dog
7. Must be a hard worker
8. Must have arms that fit around my body perfectly.

Brian Weller wins!!

Seven things that cross my mind a lot:

1. If I am a good enough friend.
2. What I want to accomplish ten years down the road and how I expect to accomplish them.
3. I want a dog.
4. I hope I have cute kids and I hope they're not socially awkward.
5. What I should wear the next day (kinda sad I actually think about this)
6. I wonder if we'll have to wear clothes in the next life. . .
7. I wonder if Stevie Wonder would be mad at the people that dress him if he could see his clothes. . .


Six things I do before I fall asleep:

1. Wash my face
2. Brush thoroughly and floss
3. Say my prayers
4. Think back on my day
5. Usually text Brian good night. Except I can't do that this month.
6. Sometimes I read a book until I fall asleep. It is never the scriptures though. But I think I'll start trying to read my scriptures better. I get so bored though. . .Whew, I wasn't struck by lightening for typing that.


Five people who mean a lot:

1. Brian Weller (the fiance/pal)
2. Camille Keller (my mother dear)
3. Brooks Keller (the padre)
4. Shayla Alder (dear trusted friend)
5. Alexis Keller (my fireball little sister)


Four things I'm wearing:

1. peach shirt
2. grey comfy sweats. Perfect for Sunday-after-church attire
3. Believe it or not, I am wearing underwear
4. Rings. I feel naked without rings on my fingers.


Three songs I listen to often (currently):

1. Patience Lies~Kalai
2. Run~Snow Patrol
3. I'm Ready I Am~The Format


Two things I want to do before I die:

1. Devote my life to making others' lives better.
2. Set my two little feet on every continent.  

One confession:

In all honesty, I've been a bit of a mess lately. But the smell of lilacs has been calming my nerves. So friends, bring me jars of lilacs and offer to play scrabble with me. I will love you forever. Or just give me a hug. Those are nice too.

Hidden Treasures

On Memorial Day evening, I wandered into my parents' basement to find a few things. While visiting the basement, I found some unexpected treasures. . .  

I really want to improve my sewing skills. I had in mind that maybe somewhere within the next year or so, I could afford to buy a sewing machine. That is when I remembered that I already have a sewing machine. It was sitting in the corner of the basement, just waiting for me to come greet it. 

It is a bit dusty and needs some tlc, but I am excited all over again about my sewing machine. There is one minor part broken on it that I can hopefully get fixed pretty easily. I would rather use this old machine over a new one any day. I am a person who appreciates old things. Sometimes I wonder if I was accidentally born in the wrong time era. But that's fine. I'll live in this era of technology and be a person that appreciates the old that has gone before. 

This machine was my great grandma's (GG's). She left it to me before she died. So it is quite sentimental. I find it ironic that I rediscovered it on the night of Memorial Day. I love Memorial Day. I love visiting graves and thinking of the legend each person has left behind. GG left a legend of family behind, and she left behind a piece of her in this sewing machine for me to enjoy. 

While examining the sewing machine, I realized I had never opened the drawers before. As I slowly pulled the drawers open, I found more wonderful little treasures.  

Bottles of thread, pencils, sewing kits, thimbles, buttons. . . It was glorious. I was beaming as I dug through all the drawers. I imagined GG organizing these drawers and using things out of them. I delicately touched each object and thought how wonderful it was that this sewing machine could be passed down to me.

Old things are absolutely precious. I love the stories they can whisper, if we only listen.

Since Boy Left. . .

I have kept the crying fits down to a total of two times, checked my email more times than I would care to count, and convinced myself the world was going to end for about two days. After the two days though, I realized life would go on and that life is such a sweet adventure. Even when Brian isn't right by my side to share it with me. After all, it is only a month. It could be much worse. And he is spending the month doing such awesome things. Still, it is strange not seeing him every day. It is annoying when I can't send him some wise remark in a text message that only he would get. And as pathetic as it sounds, I have even listened to old messages on my phone just so I can hear his voice. And I get giddy and laugh every time.

But the worst part is, it has only been a week since he left. How embarrassing.

Love is a gross thing. But once you're in such a sticky mess, you can't be held accountable.

I feel like the first week will have been the worst though. Already, the last few days have been just fine.

I mean, I've been in high enough spirits to skip right into the store and purchase a pair of converse shoes. Which Brian despises. He calls them clown shoes. However, I wanted a pair. And since he isn't in the country to stop me, I bought some.

And I feel like my number of cries is reasonably low. Only two. And they were each less than three minutes.

The first was three days after he left. I was at a work retreat. I had been trying to keep high spirits all day, but I was beginning to struggle. So as bedtime rolled around, I ran to the shower. I ran there to wash my dirty bare feet of course, but I mostly ran there to hide. As I felt warm water trickle down my back, I silently sobbed. I sobbed because I missed him, but half of me didn't even know why I was sobbing. I felt frustrated wondering why I was suddenly a roller coaster or emotions when regular Kelsey tends to keep emotions in check. I wanted to feel like myself again. Be comfortable in my own skin.

The second was the day after the first. I collapsed on my bed and realized I was crying again. It lasted for about twenty seconds when I suddenly sat up, stopped, and decided I wasn't going to act pathetic anymore. Since then, I've been better.

I am beginning to realize that I need this time away from Brian more than anything in my life right now. It is a blessing. A blessing wearing camouflage, but all the same, a blessing. I need to learn to hold my own, because the last thing I want is to turn into one of those wives that never leaves the house and can't manage anything without her husband by her side. That's not me. And that's what I'm afraid I'll turn into if we didn't have time apart. I am a strong, independent woman.

However, I still have a small soft spot for my pal. Which is why I gave him this book the day he left:

I wrote him a letter for every day we're apart. Cheesy, I know. I'm getting more cheesy with age. Oh dear. When I handed him this book, we were sitting on a grassy hill, overlooking Logan, with our temple right behind us. And I felt at peace.

I am still learning to accept this queasy, girly side of me. Forgive me for being pathetic in every aspect of the word.

The Summer List

So we all tend to create some sort of a list full of things we want to do in the summer. Whether we create an actual list or just keep it stored safely in our minds. I am going to put a quick list I created on this blog. I truly believe when I write things down, I am more likely to accomplish what is written down.

And I just want to take a moment to say that I love summer. When I was younger, I didn't want to like it since it was every other person's favorite holiday. For some reason, I tend to try not liking whatever has the popular vote. It is this weird quality I have. However, I have caved. Fall is still my favorite, but summer just has so many qualities that make me sigh with happiness. Bring on beautiful summer dusk, star gazing, fires, swimsuits, and hand holding at outdoor social events.

Summer 2011 List

1. Sleep on the trampoline

2. Make s'mores

3. Go on a road trip

4. Go to a rodeo(s). Release my inner cowgirl.

5. Float the river

6. Sing karaoke

7. Have a Bear Lake raspberry shake

8. Play with henna

9. Make sidewalk chalk creations

10. Shoot guns

11. Take Ringo (our family dog, not the drummer of the Beatles) to the lake. Just like old times.

12. Go camping. In a tent. And in my backyard doesn't count.

13. Go on a four-wheeler ride

14. Go down a slip-N-slide

15. Have a slice of cheesecake from The Cheesecake Factory

16. Watch fireworks while cuddling with someone I love

17. Pull an all-nighter

18. Learn how to play poker. Become a card shark. (I do turn 21 here soon) 

19. Go down the flume

20. Plant a garden

21. Play night games

22. Ride a horse

23. Run through sprinklers

24. See a movie at a drive-in theater

25. Learn to play the guitar. Even just a little bit. 

26. Read Les Miserables. Possibly my favorite book. 

27. Go on a motorcycle ride. Wear my leather jacket while going on the ride.

28. Hike the Wellsvilles

29. Build a blanket fort

So there you have it. A quick list. Hopefully I do many more cool things on top of just the 29 I have listed.

Hey, I'll go ahead and add a 30. One I know I'll be able to cross off.

30. Get married in the temple :)

As you can see, I crossed off 10 and 15 already. I had a slice of glorious cheesecake while in Boise with my family. And I shot guns over Memorial weekend at Bri's parents' home along with some friends.

Here is the proof:

I almost accomplished number 7 this weekend. When departing from Bear Lake, we stopped to get shakes. But I couldn't resist getting oreo. I'll get it later this summer though. No worries.

What is on your summer list?  

Dog Poop

The following is an actual true story that happened to me months ago when I thought I wanted to volunteer at the animal shelter. And when I say months, I mean the snow was just starting to fall. It was a strange experience and still to this day I keep receiving emails about the volunteer events. I am too afraid to email them back and admit I am the most lousy volunteer they in fact ever had.

I set out making the drive to the animal shelter. I could hardly contain my excitement as I pulled up to the building. I imagined all the cute, cuddly creatures that needed my love. I decided days before that I should spend some of my free time doing service. I immediately thought of volunteering at the local animal shelter. After all, I love animals, so why not spend some time caring for creatures that do not have a home? So I looked into it more, and discovered that I needed to fill out paperwork and attend a meeting, and then I could begin my service hours.

 As I walked through the door, I was greeted by a reality quite different from all that I'd imagined. The other volunteers were gathered around a table. At the head of the table was the lady I guessed was in charge. She had huge black hair, leathered skin, and a tacky colored lipstick. She had a warm smile though, which calmed my nerves slightly. I introduced myself and handed her my paperwork. I then took a seat in between two odd characters.

The man to my left was very tall, well over 6 feet. His hair was long and slicked back from his face. It was a light brown and streaked with grey. He also looked like he was attempting to grow a beard. He nodded his head at me in a sign of greeting, his smile was a bit overbearingly friendly.

To my right sat a small lady, probably in her fifties. She had an ugly colored crocheted hat pulled over her frizzy hair. She wore a long trench coat that seemed to drown her little body and she wore thick glasses that covered most of her nervous face.

I pulled my gloves off my hands and shoved them inside my purse. I had no idea what to expect next.

The lady in charge stood up and began giving her spill about the animal shelter. She went on for what seemed like hours. I found myself blocking out most of what she was rambling on about.

Until she said something along the lines of,

"We never tell the animals they are living in cages or kennels. You must refer to them as their suites. We want the animals to feel welcomed at their temporary home."

First of all, that is a lie. How dare they ask me as an innocent volunteer to lie to the animals. Suites have huge beds, prime for bed jumping, and covered with pillows. Suites have a mini fridge. Suites have room service.

Second of all, saying that to an animal is just plain weird. I am sure the dog doesn't care if I call its home a suite or a cage. All the same, it is still about ten feet long and made out of metal. And all the same, the dog still just wants to go chase birds and smell things.

After the peculiar speech finally came to an end, we filed out of the room and followed Big Hair for a tour of the place. We first entered the cat room. The guy with the creepily friendly smile I sat next to started going berserk about the cats. He began poking his fingers through the cages (I mean, suites) and talking to the cat like it was a little baby. The cat just lazily peered at the guy like he was an idiot.

"You need to put hand sanitizer on, sir, before you touch the cats."

That was Big Hair talking, obviously.

"We don't want you to give them any of your germs and make them sick."

The guy did as he was told and continued losing his mind over the cats. He then told us all about his pets at home. He went on about how he had 8 cats, 3 dogs, 2 iguanas, 4 hamsters, 1 ferret, 6 mice, 7 fish, 2 goats, and who knows what else. . .but he failed to tell us he had a wife. I came to find out that most of the older volunteers there were not married. Most seemed to be anti-social or just plain awkward in social situations. There were two other college kids there. A boy and a girl. They were in a relationship and they wanted to take care of dogs together. I have a feeling she was trying to get him out and away from his Halo and Zelda games.

That is when I realized why some people have such a deep and almost disgusting love for animals. Animals won't judge you. Your dog isn't going to go around the neighborhood and talk bad about you behind your back. Big Hair's cat will never tell her that she uses way too much hairspray. If you feed a pet and brush its fur, it most likely will love you and be loyal to you. People are not so easy to deal with. You can't just feed a friend and brush their hair and expect them to stay by your side. Heck, sometimes you might devote all your time, energy, and love on a person and they will still choose to betray you and leave you broken.

Animals don't disappoint. People do.

I felt my heart break, oddly enough, thinking about these people I was standing in the midst of and how lonely they all were. How key important relationships were missing from their lives so they tried to fill it with the presence of an animal. Because their animal would not judge them, leave them, disappoint them. 

I felt like a horrible person. Like a harsh and judgemental human being. 

After signing our names on the board for which days we would come in to work, we walked into the dog room, which was a huge cement garage. There were so many dogs barking at once. It was a giant symphony of dog barking. It echoed throughout the huge room and I felt my ears ringing. I didn't like it. I wanted out.

We walked outside. A horrible odor reached my nostrils. I looked down to see my shoe covered in dog poop. I tried to rub it off  in the grass the best I could. I wanted to gag. It had to be the worst smelling dog poop ever. I wanted to leave this horrible place. I wanted to drive away and return to my world where I didn't imagine people being sad and alone, and where dog suites were called dog kennels. 

So I did. I walked quickly to my van, drove away, and didn't look back. 

I never went back in for the days I signed up to work. 

I have still never gone back. Nor do I plan to. 

I just couldn't handle volunteering at a place where I felt like some of the other volunteers needed more love than the animals. And I couldn't handle asking a dog if he'd like to go back into his suite without laughing.