How it Started

I'll just address the elephant in the room right upfront: This is a long blog post. I put in some pictures, which I'm hoping will act as snacks in Sacrament Meeting and keep you entertained....mostly. Carry on!



Some might say that it all started with a note. But actually, it didn't. Actually, it all started with knock. And a handsome stranger asking if this was the apartment where our ward was having nice notes.

Some might say that it was the wrong apartment, and at the time, that's what I told him. But actually, it wasn't. Actually, it was the right apartment, and the right girl, and the right boy. I just didn't know it yet.

I didn't make a great first impression. As in, I asked him if he was weird and awkward in the first 3 minutes of knowing him, and he thought I was rude. [For the record, he was a teeny bit awkward, so it was a valid question.]

However, it wasn't such a bad impression that all hope was lost. He came over again, and I redeemed myself. And then, he came over again, and again, and then he kept coming over. And I didn't even mind.

October 9th was my birthday, and since the best friend advertised free food and birthday kisses in a painstakingly crafted mass txt, he was there.

Some might say that Stephen had nothing to do with building this cake. Those people would be right. He just put the candles on because I said we couldn't eat it until I had blown them out, and if we're being honest with ourselves, we might as well just admit that the cake was 90% of the reason why he was there.

I won't tell you what I wished for when I blew those candles out....but the weekend after my birthday, I found myself squashed up next to him on a couch in an apartment south of campus, watching a scary movie with some friends. And he held my hand.

He played it cool, but this is how he felt:

(Me, too.)

A week later, I got a mysterious nice note. It looked like this:

This is the note that some say it started with.

I searched the ward menu, and the only S.S. in our ward was Stephen Shimp. And I knew, grazie to my women's intuition, that Stephen had not written this nice note.

Even so, he did like my cute skirts. And we did go out sometime.

This is the night he wanted to take me on a date, but it was the ward Halloween party. So we just hung out there and took beautiful pictures like this one about it.

This is the night after the Halloween party, the other night he wanted to take me on a date. A Jew came to town and we had already planned on going to Cornbelly's with my roommates, so we just invited Stephen and his roommates along. They did things like taking pictures of us in the pumpkins and then offering to let us use them on our wedding announcements. I did things like pretending not to notice their comments....

This picture is not from a date either. It's just from Halloween day, when Stephen and I hung out for like the hundredth time. And for the first time, he caught a fish from the Raintree River. And also for the first time....something else happened :)

When we finally did go out sometime, it was to this place:

The Quarry

I had been rock climbing a few times, and even been on a few dates to this place. This date was the best of them all :)

This might be where my mom might say it all started. The day after he asked me on a date, I called my mom. 

"MOM," I said, "You'll never guess what happened to me."

"What!" she said, all excited already. 

"The cutest boy in the ward asked me on a date!" I said. "I think we're going this weekend!"

She cheered. She asked for his name. She facebook stalked him. She congratulated me.

That date was on November 3rd. And not to color myself psycho or anything, but in the interest of full disclosure I should probably share that when my sister asked me less than a month later if I liked him, I told her I kind of wanted to marry him. 

In December, we had all kinds of adventures.

December 1st found us ice-skating at the Gallivan Center....

 This conversation happened when we stepped out onto the ice:

Stephen: WHAT! Heather, you don't know how to ice-skate??
me: No, I do! I promise I do! I just....I forgot, but I'll remember in a second!
Stephen: Oh, no, no, Heather, noooo!
me: Stephen! It's fine, I'll remember! Just wait a minute!
Stephen: What are you doing? Heather, what??
me: I'm just skating! Hold on, just slow down for a second!

It was not my most graceful ice-skating debut, but as soon as I remembered what to do (after about 5 minutes of tremulously clinging to Stephen and insisting that I knew what I was doing), I actually did okay. 

Looking at the temple lights in SLC....

.....meeting some Anti-Mormons posing in awesome costumes for free pictures, forgive us for that brief affiliation.....

.....wandering the streets of SLC, looking for the car.....(Don't worry, it was parked at none of these hotels. We checked.) 

 

 

I love Christmastime. I love downtown Salt Lake City. And holding hands on the car ride back to Provo, once we finally found the car at 2 in the morning, I loved Stephen, too.

This one time, we made a bomb-amazing gingerbread house.

 Ingredients, if you're interested in replicating our fine work:

-Starbursts from my kids for Christmas
-Berry Colossal Crunch cereal for the roof
-fudge-striped cookies from a 100 calorie pack
-brownie bites, also from a 100 calorie pack
-Frosted Mini-Wheats cereal
-tootsie rolls from ???
-frosting from when my kids made gingerbread houses at school and the parent volunteers tried to throw away the frosting and well, I rescued it.
-graham crackers from a bonfire we attended in oh, October....

And then he went home to Indiana, and I went home to Maryland, and we skyped almost err day.

Even when I was back in Utah for New Years Eve and he was still in Indiana, and I should probably have been going to a party or something. We skyped then too.

When he managed to get his arse back in Utah, we had more adventures!

He taught me how to snowboard....

and one time, when we were snowboarding, he asked me to be his girlfriend!

I said no.

But then I said yes of course, so it was just a minor setback. Then we went home, made fajitas, called his parents, and - most importantly! - changed our facebook status (super-important, you guys. It is 2013)

I should note that, when we called his parents, his mom said I seemed really sweet :) ...........which she quickly followed up with an invitation to read the new For the Strength of Youth booklet. 

As boyfriend and girlfriend, we once optimistically went to Sundance to try to get into the Matthew Mc-con-a-hottie and Reese Witherespoon movie without previously buying tickets, and instead just eating at a cute Mexican restaurant when we found that there were no more tickets available.

We went to Fire and Ice at the Riverwoods. We missed the fireworks, and the snowboarding, and pretty much everything else, but we were in time for the ice sculptures!

....and in time to walk around and try on some really beautiful hats.

 Winter has never been my favorite season. As in, it has always been my worst-favorite season. But winter with Stephen is a nice season, because it involves fun things like snowboarding and yummy things like Little Caesar's pizza that I had to buy for my roommates and warm things like cuddling.

It was one night, later in the month of January, when Stephen said: "I don't want you to think I'm weird, but....do you ever think about, what it would be like if we were to like, get married?" 

I was so surprised that he said that, but to tell the truth, I did think about it. Pretty much err day.

All of a sudden, it was February, 

Jazz game!

 and then Valentines Day. 

Which was a perfect day with a perfect ending. The ending was a whisper that sounded like this:

him: Heather. 

me: Stephen. 

him: .....I love you. 

 

me: I love you, Stephen!

And with that, we started life with a new normal.

 

It was normal to go rock-climbing,

normal to go running,

normal to hike the Y (with one person riding piggy back at times),

normal to fall asleep on the apartment floor after working out.

It was normal to never have leftovers, because I had a Stephen instead. Normal to sit on his lap while he studied and I graded. Normal for him to come in and visit my class, when he had a chance. Normal for me to come and study with him in the library and go to classes with him when I was off-track, or to go to the UVU basketball games so he could get extra credit in his class. It was all just the best kind of normal I had ever lived!

So that's how I think it started. How THIS

happened, is a blog post for another day :)

Welcome to Brovo

Technically, the city I live in is called Provo. But sometimes, I think it should be called Brovo, because sometimes, I think it is being overrun by bros. Not always....just sometimes. Caitlin wrote a very enlightening and straightforward report of these fellas last year, which you can read here.

 

And now, I'd just like to add my own signs that you may be living in Brovo....

- Bros have become such an issue that some non-bros decide to throw a tool party where everyone has to dress up like tools in blatant mockery

- Your boy accuses you of checking yourself out in the reflective windows of a restaurant, when really, you were just trying to avoid making eye contact with the Bros who were all standing around by the exit of Maria Bonita's, taking turns making their pectorals dance

- The phone conversation you overhear at the pool goes like this: "Dude! Bro, what's up! Dude, come chill with me. Yeah man, it's sweet. Oh, my roommates are so sick. They're way tight guys. No dude, they're awesome, this summer's gonna be sick. BRO. No, dude, listen. We had a game night last night and they were all, 'We've never done anything like this before!' I was like, what? Are you guys for real? No, man, they were serious! But they're way cool. No, I actually broke up with my girlfriend last month. Dude, no, listen to this - I moved here, and she moved in after me! She like followed me here so she's in my ward and everything. Oh yeah, it's super awkward. I try to be nice and talk to her but she just hates my guts now." etc.

- The bro on the phone hangs up the phone and immediately starts looking for a way to strike up a conversation with the girls kind of close to him, who really just want to lay by the pool and not be bothered

- And the girls respond kind of like

 - Even though striking up a conversation might not be all that bro-ly, and could just be friendly, but in some cases, it probably isn't just friendly, since there was a definite attempt at swagger in his signature "notice me" walk from chair to poolside.

- While walking with your (admittedly really cute) friends one night, a random bro in a car rolls down his window while passing you to shout out "Oh heyyy ladies!"

- The gym is still crowded, but not as crowded as it usually is, because so many of the bros have left for the summer, now that their contract at The Village is up for the year.

- You and your best friend are both sitting around lonesome because both of you have recently been abandoned by your boyfriends. And this abandonment has left you with the (possibly inaccurate but still very persistent) feeling that the only boys left in this town are Bros.

Does that make sense, what I'm saying?? I don't actually think all the boys in Provo are Bros. I just think a lot of them are. And sometimes, when you get together with your best friend and throw pity parties for yourselves on account of your temporary singledom, all the boys start to look like Bros, because they are not who you really care about.

As in, I'm sorry, but Barney Stintson does not live in Provo. And actually he's gay in real life. And even if he weren't, we may love his bro-ness on TV, but I don't know if I would love it as much if he brought it here. So I guess I have to just keep saying No to Bros.

Why would I try it?

I heard THE WORST thing on the radio the other day. The DJ was talking about prenuptial agreements and said that now, not only are people writing prenups for money and stuff, but they are also writing lifestyle prenups. That means that they write out their expectations for their marriage, and if those expectations aren't met, it's grounds for a divorce.

Here are some of the examples they gave:

- If either spouse gains 40 lbs --> divorce.
- If either spouse cheats, the other one can cheat on them right back.
- The wife wanted to go dancing at least 4 times a year, and if her husband didn't take her, she was allowed to go with whoever she chose.
- If the husband was going to have an affair, the wife had a list of all the women she would be okay with him having an affair with.




I thought this whole discussion was ridiculous and sad and I hated it. So when my parents came out for my graduation, and it was still on my mind, this conversation happened:

me: Mom, what would you do if Dad gained 40 lbs?
Mom: He wouldn't.
me: But what if he did!
Mom: I guess I'd tell him to work out....
me: Oh. What if you gained 40 lbs, what would Dad do?
Mom: I have no idea, why would I try it?!

Which is a response I really like. I guess when I get married, I won't try it, either.

Goooooaaaaallllll!

We talked about goals at school today. I had my kids write down their top 3 goals and put them into a kind of soccer-themed craftivity.

Here was my favorite:

Kids these days.

And for anyone who has been wondering, the Sexy Uncle did not drop off the face of the Earth. I met him on Saturday, as a matter of fact. 

I appreciate

Teacher Appreciation Week. Because it looks like this:

This on Monday.

This on Tuesday at lunchtime (I forgot to take a picture until I'd already started eating it, lo siento...

This on Thursday (almost made me cry, you guys)

This plus rolls plus cinammon butter plus chicken plus pork from Texas Roadhouse on Friday.

Also this on Friday.

I appreciation Teacher Appreciation Week so much, in fact, that when I get home, I do things that you might not expect from me.

For instance, I handed flowers to this guy who came along to help me clean out my trunk, and he  waited until his roommates could see, then handed them back to me, saying "Here you go, Heather" as if he had gotten them for me...

Another instance, I did this:

THAT'S RIGHT I WENT RUNNING.

Outside, you guys. For 2 miles. I was motivated by the following:

- the new shorts
- the guy
- the ever-imminent fear that at any moment, I could be attacked and I would have to run even faster to escape
- the Sidney Bristow
- the new jorts (again)

And, in a truth that is perhaps even more shocking than the fact that I went running outside at all, I actually kind of....really liked it.

Easter cupcakes

Last year, if you had asked me what food I associated with Easter, I probably would have said eggs. This year, my answer would not be eggs. Yes, I dyed about five Easter eggs. And yes, I have an egg salad sammich in my lunch today. And yes, I do love deviled eggs. But for whatever reason, eggs did not take over my Easter this year.

These did:

These are the leftovers. After 3 different roommates took 3 different kinds of cupcakes to 3 different Easter dinners and we gave some away to cousins of studly boys and thought about giving some away to the girls we visit teach.

Not that I'm complaining....

Sneaking: the Good, the Bad, the Ugly

Sneaking can be good. Like when Sydney Bristow does it.

That is good because it saves people, like Marshall, or Weiss is Nice. Sydney Bristow sneaking is also good because she brings this guy along:

and let's be real, no one in the history of ever has ever complained about that. 

Sneaking is good when you sneakily say you won't be getting back from a trip until way late Sunday night, and then you show up way early on Sunday night, and there is much rejoicing in the land.

Sneaking is also good when you sneakily leave B-Dubbs on a boy's car so he knows that you like him. (Don't do this if you don't want to blow your cover.)

Sorry for the crappy quality of this picture, but we can't all have smart phones. Also, we can't all wait until the sun comes up before we go off to work. :/

Sneaking is good when you sneakily make your roommate's bed just in time for cleaning checks.

Sneaking is good when you anonymously send flowers.

Sneaking is good when your students set up traps to catch a leprechaun and he someone manages to sneak through all of them and escape unharmed, taking the gold coins with him.

Why is that good, you ask? Because said leprechaun is a nice leprechaun who left us a note....

.....and some Lucky Charms under the teacher's seat.

So yes, sneaking can definitely be good. But then there are some times when sneaking is bad.

Like when you sneakily put yourself into Francie's body so that you can be Fake Francie and pretend like you're Real Francie so that maybe one day you can sneakily kill Sydney Bristow, who is Real Francie's roommate.

I mean honestly, whatabee.

Sneaking is also bad when you go rockclimbing on a night when UVU students get in for $5. And when they ask, "So you're both UVU students, right?" you sneakily glaze your eyes and look around and let The Boy answer, since you are not a UVU student, but he is, so no one has to lie if you just don't say anything.

Why is that bad, you may ask? Because they might let you both in for the UVU student price, but karma is real, kids. And you might have a great time rock climbing for $5, but give it a week and you might find yourself walking around trying to hold hands with a bear paw, because The Boy might have broken his pinky playing dodgeball. And this might make it so you can't go rock climbing for at least 3 months. By which time $5 nights for UVU students will probably be a thing of the past. Don't try to tell me these things are unrelated. I've learned my lesson. I am 'umbled.

Sneaking is also bad when there's a paper airplane making and throwing contest during halftime at the UVU basketball game, and your paper airplane sneaks in under my paper airplane and is just a little bit more on the target than mine was, so I do not win a 5-day vacation to Disney Land as planned.



She's cute, right? And her parents are good. Sneakers. But we can't all cry like that because we're going to Disneyland. Some people cry like that because they are not going to Disneyland. And some people just want to....

Sneaking a kiss is an example of good sneakiness, (depending on the boy, obviously) but not when he sneaks a kiss by sneakily revealing that he has some juicy bit of information that he is withholding and then saying, "I'm not going to tell you until you kiss me. You have to kiss me first." Because then your curiosity is going to take over, and you are going to have to kiss him. And only then will you find out that his mouth has had things in it that you never wanted your mouth to be exposed to. Like his roommate's toe.

Bad sneakiness is bad. But you want to know when it gets ugly? When you sneakily call the bishop to tattle on your roommates.

Not saying that I know anyone who would do that. Just saying. I imagine that it would get ugly if someone did. 

I'll leave you with this, one of my favorite examples of sneakiness:



May we always land on our feet. Happy sneaking!

Always a little awkward when....

....you go to the Jordan River temple and the guy doing confirmations asks why you aren't in school and you know (because you have the Spirit with you because you are in the temple after all) that he thinks you are a high schooler.

....and you also know that you can't just say, "I got a substitute," because then he'll just think you're a high schooler who saw that there was a substitute and decided to skip class.

....and you can't think of a subtle way to casually let him know that you are a teacher, so in the moment you throw all subtlety down the drain and just blurt out "I, uh, I'm a teacher, I left early, I have an interview."

....it is 10:00 in the morning and already 4 children in your class have cried.

....this note is in the nice notes box:

....and everyone denies having written it. (And also, it is eerily similar to the very first nice note you wrote to The Boy once upon a time last semester....)

....there are 8 girls at a table at B-Dubbs, surrounded by wings and big-screen TV's, and not one boy is there with them.

....and although it may look like a clever "go where the men are" kind of girls' night out, not one of those girls is there because she wants to get hit on, either.

....a box of crayons sets off an entire string of events that your team dubs "The Foot Saga."

....and said saga is still ongoing and you get the idea that it will continue until the end of the year.

....you go to Zumba and feel all excited about it and enjoy your time there, and then the next week when it's time to go again, someone has chest pains and someone else has no gas in their car and someone else has no motivation, so that's the end of that short-lived reign of fitness.

....boyfriends can't say anything without best friends knowing about it, and even if some quotes don't make it to the Man Board, they do make it into our normal conversations.

....some idiots come over to your apartment and interrupt The Bachelor because they are playing Bigger or Better and they are wondering if you have anything you would like to trade with them? And you can't even talk to them because, excuse me, it's The Bachelor.

....you see police lights as you come in your apartment and catch a glimpse of someone who you think you recognize and jump to the conclusion that your Relief Society president has been in a car accident, so you decide to bring her some cookies, but then as you walk over there, the police make you nervous, so you go to her apartment to make sure that it is in fact her....

....and some boys are walking away from her apartment carrying the front door??

....and you don't stop them.

....someone thinks that it is okay to lock a shopping cart to the stairs outside of your apartment and actually they are right, that is a little okay, but what is not okay is rattling it around at 2 in the morning when you are trying to go to sleep.

....you go in for a job interview and wonder if someone accidentally told the guy in charge of the interview that he was just there to interview himself, because truly you feel more like an audience member than a job applicant.

....you live in utah and all the cars like to remind you.