"They're all Punzels"

I think Halle wants me to train for a marathon. At least that's what my trip to Target with her felt like. I have never in my life seen a child run so fast, while laughing so hard. I'm sure the other shoppers were glad for the free entertainment, especially those who caught my near-splits while rounding a corner. After what seemed like hours of chasing her through every aisle and clothing rack, she came to a screeching halt when she saw the aisle full of PINK! That's where I shot this little video.

What this video doesn't show is the trail of pink items she had pulled of the shelves in her path of destruction. I shot this a little too late. She had been carrying that large box of princess Barbies across the whole length of the toy section to find her mom and ask her if she could get them. What dedication. Then she was lured in by a Punzel doll she had never seen before and all the other princesses were carelessly tossed aside. Yes, that pink bouncy ball on the ground was once her prized possession, too. I stood back and laughed as she struggled with the ball bin for a while, certain she wouldn't be able to pull the pink one out from the bottom. But she did. What a funny little stinker.

As memorable as this trip to Target was. I have sworn to my sister that I am never going again with her and the wee ones. Just like I swore a few months ago.

Days of my life

Now that I have a lot of free time, I've been working as a substitute teacher for some of my friends and former co-workers. It helps me feel like my brain isn't turning into mush. And it's great because I hardly ever have to sit down, which is what I try to avoid most of all. But mostly, it's been really, really fun. It really makes me homesick for teaching. But this way I get the teacher fix without having to sit for hours planning the curriculum or dealing with parents.

In case you haven't noticed, I don't use my last name on my blog. I don't even use my husband's name. It's a small effort to try to maintain some sense of privacy from would-be serial killers. If you do know my last name, you know that it's not very common and that it might sound silly to some people . . . some very young people. Last week when I entered a second-grade classroom, I introduced myself and the entire class burst into laughter. Sadly, I had the same reaction when my now-husband first introduced himself to me.

Things that I miss about working in an young elementary classroom:
1. The calling out of "teacher, teacher" whenever someone wants your attention.
2. The line up of kids waiting to hug you at the end of the day.
3. The boys in that line up who wind up to give you a super hard high-five slap.
4. Pretending that the high five really hurt your hand.
5. The copycat stories. One student raised her hand last week to tell me that I remind her of her aunt. Then consequent responses from multiple students followed. I reminded someone of their mom, their cousin, their sister, and so on.
6. How every unfamiliar noise kids hear sounds like a fart to them. This is followed by endless giggling.
7. When talking about the north and south poles of the earth, Santa is inevitably brought up.
8. Kids aren't afraid to dance in music class.
9. Young kids grab my hand to get my attention before telling me about something they have that's contagious.
10. "Are you a teenager?" I always say yes.


I've also been filling up a lot of my time lately with baking. This too keeps me busy while not having to sit down. But I think I'm going to hang my chef's hat up for a while. I have wasted one too many bags of M&Ms or chocolate chips on cookies that go flat. And you can't give flat cookies away (though I tried), so you just end up keeping them all and eating your weight in flat cookies. So I'm taking a break because I'm a quitter. Kind of always have been.

As evidence to back the theory that I'm a quitter, I'm going to quit this blog post with out a concluding paragraph.

To Halle, with love

Dear Halle Cakes,

Last weekend you slept in my bed with me to keep me company while the hubs was out of town. For some reason I think it's cute when you kick me all through the night. But I get angry when the hubs does it. Also, when you woke me up at 4 am to watch "Tare Bears" (Care Bears), I was so happy, which is really uncharacteristic of me. I love sleep. But sitting up wide awake, laughing with you and your sippy cup and continually asking, "Where's that peent (pink) guy?" will forever be one of my favorite memories. I've never enjoyed being awake at 4 am quite so much. Thanks for being so cute and so sweet to me. I hope you never grow out of wanting to call "Meggy" everyday. I love you so much and I hope you never grow up.

decem part 2

So, by now you're probably thinking that I'm a total scrooge and maybe I am.

I get notifications almost every 30 minutes that someone else has written a comment on my class of 2001 reunion facebook group's wall. From what I can gather, I'm the only person in my graduating class that isn't making a countdown chain to this reunion. It's not that I hated high school, it was just a rough time for me.

For starters, I was 17 years-old. I was a completely different person emotionally, socially, etc. I would hope that the other people in my class could say the same thing about themselves. So maybe part of me is embarrassed to think that someone might remember what a dork and then what a brat I was. Right, I think that's a really big part of it.

But most of it is that I spent the better part of my senior year in and out of the hospital, was "home-schooled" since I was too sick to go to school, and was completely deserted by a number of "good friends." That sounds so stupid because it was so long ago and I have completely different adult friends now, but it still makes me lonely to think about it. I had a close group or really good, really fun friends. But when I found out I was sick and wasn't able to be present for most of the important things that seniors do, I found out who my real friends were—and that was really disappointing to me. The friends who were there for me when I was sick were a couple of girls who were a grade younger than me and a few of their guy friends. And most surprisingly, the other friends who stood by my side were a group of rowdy boys that lived an hour away. They drove up to see me in the hospital after both surgeries and would skip school to drive an hour and hang out with me on the couch when I was too sick to get up and out. These boys and girls are still my good friends today! They are people that I will always hold in the highest regard. And although I don't see them too often or talk to them regularly, they have proven themselves as people worthy to keep as friends for all of my life.

So that's my baggage with high school. Maybe you can understand now why I'm not too anxious to go and hang out with a bunch of people who deserted me when I needed them most.

This is a pretty dramatic post. At which point am I so broken up about this that I need to go see a therapist?

Pumpkin spice, and everything nice

My parents live maybe a mile away from where I work. I go there every day to eat my lunch and any treats my mom might have lying around. Today when I got there, no one was home. I walked in to the empty house. The temperature was just a little chilly in the house and it smelled like holiday. My mom must have had a pumpkin or some sort of holiday sent burning. But it made me excited for all of the holidays coming up and all the of the traditions that make the holidays what they are.

Tasty's donuts purchased each Halloween afternoon . . . some sort of chili or soup bowl for dinner . . . the black witch basket that hold that candy and sees fewer and fewer trick-or-treaters each year (which is good for me) . . . all the wee ones coming by grandma's after they're done trick-or-treating and acting shy in costume . . . chocolate hangovers . . . doorbell ringing every few minutes while I'm usually still putting my costume together . . .

which leads to

Pumpkin pie . . . mom's homemade rolls that Hollie sometimes makes now . . . slush! . . . a giant turkey cooking all day . . . carrot dip . . . dad saying something sentimental about how we have so much to be grateful for while everyone else just wants to eat . . . one brother-in-law that likes the obligatory cranberries . . . Marcie's green bean casserole or Jello mix . . . Emily's broccoli salad (seen at various holidays) . . . football . . . bring out the Little Tikes table for the kidlets . . . kidlets laughing and yelling as loud as they can, none of them concerned with eating . . . lots of food on the floor . . . that white table cloth that only comes out once a year with the fancy salt and pepper shakers . . .

which leads to

A week-long project of getting ALL the Christmas decorations up . . . Norm's every-other-year Christmas lights policy . . . Cadbury Christmas candy . . . Santa's Marching band . . . the train around the tree that nephews watch for hours . . . Grandma's hand-knitted stockings . . . more slush! . . . frantic shopping on Christmas Eve and wanted to shoot every person you come into contact with in public . . . the snowman tree . . . stress . . . Norm's famous scrambled eggs for breakfast . . . seeing all the kidlets hopped-up on toy excitement and not even noticing you've come to see them . . . toffee . . . neighbors delivering so many goodies you think you might pop . . . The Little Match Girl . . . The Carpenters, a Christmas Portrait . . . tired brothers and sisters who stayed up late to help Santa put things together . . . Using Santa's elves as leverage to get kids to do whatever you want them to do . . . and so much more.

How weird is it that I won't be waking up at that house I know so well for Christmas anymore? I'd be lying if I didn't say that it makes me sad to think about it. I know I wasn't there last year for Christmas, but I had only been married a few weeks and that month of my life is all a blur.

Some things I wish I could forget

During my first, or possibly second year of teaching, I signed up to take a class called "Beginning Guitar for Teachers in the Elementary Classroom." I thought it would be a great opportunity to learn some fun tunes to play while kids sang about times tables, counties and county seats, and so on.

I began the class with a borrowed guitar. I can remember learning very little. There was very little method or even skill taught. But, I did learn how to mimic my teacher's hand placements on the fret board as he taught us "The House of the Rising Sun" over an eight-week period. He told me I was a natural. I was excited about this until my dad explained that the only song my teacher had taught me was about a whore house . . . and that wasn't nearly as useful in an elementary classroom as I'd hoped it would be.

Although I learned nothing useful, I got a free, new guitar from my creepy teacher. Sometimes being a natural at playing whore house-themed music pays off.

Where are my daisy dukes, belly shirts, and rollerblades when I need them?

Click play on this music video and close your eyes while you listen. Why? First of all, the video and audio are off sync. Second, ODB's teeth in the beginning might make you ill as you find yourself pondering when the last time was that you flossed your teeth. And I don't want to play the role of tooth fairy queen right now. But, mostly close your eyes to picture where you where ten years ago when you were listening to this song.

And then open your eyes about 4 minutes 50 seconds into the song and ask yourself why Mariah Carey in on rollerblades in this video when rollerblades hadn't been cool for at LEAST five years all ready.

Ten years ago, I was in my in my green Chevy Cavalier, Kermit II, with the top down, driving along Highway 89 well under the speed limit. It was the summer of my sixteenth birthday and I hadn't yet mastered the art of driving the speed limit while singing along with a car full of girls. I believe this was the night I was pulled over for suspected drunk driving.

I was also in gym class with Mr. Horne, who I still suspect to be a pervert. I was playing basketball in the field house with Jessica and, I think, Jarilyn. We would sing the lyrics to each other as we pretended to play the sport. This might have been the time I got caught goofing off and as a punishment, the entire class had to do ten sets of lunges across the length of the gym. Sorry about that, guys. By the way, I cheated on the lunges, too.

So, I guess I just wanted to say, "Thanks, Mariah, for the memories. May your career move forward with even more terrible hits with grilled-men who can't really sing."

On that day in history . . .

4th of July, 2009

Last year, I spent the 4th of July as I usually do . . . Sleeping in and rushing to make it to the parade early enough to get a decent parking spot. I danced around and fought for candy, then headed to The Training Table for lunch with the fam. There was probably some swimming in the afternoon, possibly even a cat nap, then I gussied myself up for the fireworks at the local high school. I was, of course, planning on meeting up with dozens of my single pals.

TMIM offered to pick me up for the fireworks. When he showed up at the house, I invited him to join in on the family BBQ taking place in the backyard. Being a man, he accepted the invitation. He already knew about half of my family, so I didn't think it would seem a big deal to have him at a family gathering. Boy, was I wrong. The teasing from the nephews was relentless in the few minutes we were there. As soon as I could, I gave him the "Let's get out of here look," and we were on our way to the fireworks.

We brought a blanket to sit on with our friends and chatted until we found them. That was the last I saw of TMIM that night. I spent the rest of the fireworks next to my good friend, Michelle, trying to hold back tears of frustration and figure out why I was so bothered that TMIM was sitting next to a girl that wasn't me!

When the show was over and we met up, I asked him to take me home before he could finish telling me about the after party at his place. The awkward walk to the car seemed like it would never end! Then, as if things weren't painful enough for me, he began to tell me what a great time he had sitting by that other girl. I wanted to vomit. Then irony took it's place and Colbie Callet's song "Falling For You" came on the radio. TMIM sang along here and there, and I made my best effort not to punch him in the face.

I was so mad at him, and I had no idea why. I was mad that I cared that he wasn't sitting with me. And I was mad that nobody told me that I could start having feelings for a friend . . . Especially when it was completely unplanned.

And then I met back up with my friend Michelle, told her I was feeling weird and didn't want to talk about it. After that, I laughed harder with my friend than I had in years. I went home thinking everything was fine and that my feelings had calmed back to how they should be.

But, I'd never been more wrong in my life.

Your mom goes to college.

In my typical fashion, I am writing a post well after the time I should have. It wouldn't be "Mitchell Standard Time" if I had posted it any sooner.

As you all know, last Sunday was Mothers' Day. In an effort to give you a glimpse into the wonderful being that is my mother, I will now write as many silly, random, fun, loving, and embarrassing memories that I can about my mom.

Mom-ments with my mom:

• Waking up every Saturday to the tunes of Barry Manilow or Neil Diamond as my bedroom door swung open and my blanket was torn off my bed. Usually followed with something like, "Remember, the faster you start your chores, the sooner you get to play."
• Calling home fake-sick from school so many times that I can't count. And each time she came to my rescue, made me a bed on the couch, got me a Sprite, and put in a movie.
• Having semi-forced afternoon naps with her after Kindergarten.
• The yardstick
• Smelling her Skin-So-Soft every time she gave me a hug (she's moved on to new skincare products).
• The "secret," never-ending supply of coloring books "hidden" in the top of her closet.
• The grocery store trips where she'd buy me Velveeta and make me nachos for lunch.
• Knowing that my mom would be present as a chaperone at every field trip for her nervous daughter.
• The giant Minnie Mouse head lunch box that I was sent to school with on the first day of 5th grade, and never took again.
• The made-to-order home lunches for school that made other kids hate me and always included a fruit roll up.
• The perfectly slicked-back hair-dos with feathered bangs and a bow to match my outfit.
• Chocolate chip pumpkin bread
• Hershey's Kisses
• Always traveling in the car with a drink that doesn't have a lid, but does have a straw.
• Vacuum bags
• Taking off and often forgetting to put back on the one earring that was removed for a comfortable nap on her side.
• Getting pooped on by the owl in our neighbor's silo when she came to find me and my sister.
• Going to Wendy's after every doctor's visit.
• King's
• Slipping on the ice in front of my junior high and cracking her wrist.
• Going with her to her mom's to pick her up for a day or night out with us.
• Getting a phone call multiple times a week right after school to tell us she's at grandma's, on grandma's echo-y phone.
• Horizontal-striped boat neck shirts
• Stretch pants with stirrups
• Coming to my rescue in the middle of the night with something to barf in, migraine medicine, you name it.
• The green brush
• The M&M incident with Aunt Beth at Lake Powell
• Biting nails
• Driving home halfway through our vacation at Lake Powell to get a root canal, and back all by herself, because I think it was mine or someone else's birthday.
• Sleeping overnight at the hospital, sharing a ridiculously small "reclining" chair with me, to be with grandma during some of her last moments.
• Always loving the hardest to love kids and adults, and always taking care of them.

I love you, mom. Even with your funny quirks and all!

I have arrived.

Well, how 'bout that? I am the proud owner of a Rolodex. As a young child I used to covet my grandma's Rolodex that sat on her desk in the purple bedroom. It was big, and ornate, and made her seem all sorts of important... she must have been. Why else would she have needed a way to keep track of so many peoples' contact information? And now I am officially important. And, not to make you feel inferior, but I have at least a dozen people in there... soon to be a baker's dozen.

Just to satisfy your curiosity, it's black, plastic, and the letter separators are a shade of ocean blue. Someday I hope to upgrade to a metal version. Something a little fancier, like that of my grandma's. Possibly with some form of flower decoration. That would be nice.

Welcome to the big leagues, Megan.

It's good to be here.

2009 Year in Review

Special Olympic Utah Winter Games

"Just add water" boyfriend...

.... who my nephews had really high hopes for.

Cinderella revival

Dinner with my friends

Recognize the guy pulling the awesome face? Yeah, that's my then-friend turned husband.

I celebrated the Holi Festival of Colors by having one single handful of chalk tossed right into my eyes, then rubbing my face on my friend's shirt.

Date nights with the Wee Ones!

Best concert yet, featuring Mat Kearney...

... and Keane

Oh, yeah. I spent a good chunk of my summer in Europe.

I went here....

Swam in here....

Slept here (with many strangers)...

Toured here....

Was ECSTATIC about going here...

Even more excited about eating this...

Strolled by here....

And returned home to celebrate my birthday with friends like these.

Weber River tubing excursion and near-death experience

Antelope by Moonlight

Lots and lots of giggling with this girl

My first "date" with my friend... who is now my husband

I invited him to hear the Symphony play at Sundance

The first bouquet of flowers I received from a boy that didn't send my running...

though I thought about it briefly

Summer nights at Deer Valley with the Utah Symphony

Engagement party in Oregon with T.M.I.M.'s family

Where we were spoilt beyond belief and received these awesome hats

Indoor surfing on T.M.I.M's golden birthday

Wedding dress shopping

I got a new niece!

I GOT MARRIED to my best friend and the love of my life. I never have been so happy.

[Insert wedding pictures that are on husband's 

computer at a later time]

See our friend Lindsay's blog for some of our photos of the big day.

My long-coveted Kitchen Aide mixer

My first Christmas as a married woman... my husband and I gave each other the same gift

So far, so good, eh?!

The First Real Date

For those of you who have been following my story, I want to apologize for the delay and excite you for the next installment... about my first date with T.M.I.G.T.M. If you have no idea what I'm talking about, you should probably call in sick to work and invest a few good hours in reading the following posts. Then we can talk.

The Meeting

The Friendship (Phase the First)

The Friendship (Phase the Second)

The Evolution

Also, if you're wondering what on earth T.M.I.G.T.M. stands for, I can clear that up as well:

The man I'm going to marry.

I'm avoiding using his name in an effort to preserve some privacy in my life. Not that sharing every intimate detail about my life on this public blog helps my case much. But it's like eating a slice of wheat bread for every five slices of white bread- it at least makes me feel like I'm trying.

And now, to begin today's story, "The First Real Date." May the spirit of Dean Martin's music assist me as I tell my story.

The night T.M.I.G.T.M. came to pick me up for our first date, I was so nervous. I had been all sorts of confused for so long about what I was feeling for him, though I knew I was feeling something. I was so excited to be going on a date, but was trying to remain level-headed in case it was just a friend date. I had been on one too many of those in my single lifetime. He picked me up and we went to dinner at a local hot spot, Mexican restaurant. I was a little apprehensive about chowing down on the chips and salsa like I really wanted to— I was nervous. I never got nervous around T.M.I.G.T.M.!! We had our usual pleasant conversations before and during dinner, but it just seemed so surreal that I was on a date with my friend of all these years. I wasn't sure where to place my thoughts and feelings. Then we went to his place where he said he had a surprise. My mind was racing. I was hoping that he wasn't going to do something over-ambitious like so many other boys had done in the past— something too big that assumes a relationship, when I wasn't sure what I was thinking/feeling. But I was also hoping that it was something telling; something to let me know he had interesting in dating me.

We walked into his back yard as he carried a number of pillows and blankets. My mind was everywhere from, "Geeze, this is awfully bold of him to do something involving pillows and blankets on our first date," to, "I hope whatever this is will give me an opportunity to be close to him and test the waters with flirting." He laid out the blankets and set the pillows down. He was grinning from ear to ear and kept checking his watch. He reassured me that it should be happening any time now. I half expected his roommates to crawl out of the bushes in costumes or something. But, alas, after a few minutes, I heard a loud boom that shook the earth and saw any number of colors bursting in the sky. He turned to me and said, "This is to make up for the fireworks we didn't get to watch together on the 4th of July."( In case you forgot, that was the night he left me to sit with another girl.)

We laid back to enjoy the show. I was careful to lay close to him, but not too close as to seem presumptuous. At one point he offered his shoulder for me to lay on. So I did, but kept my body at about a 45• angle away from his. I was not going to make a fool of myself if we were just friends! The show ended and we stayed out back to talk and check out the beautiful, clear night sky. Somehow we both ended up on our stomachs searching the sky for the little dipper, whose location we couldn't seem to agree on. He would lean in close to point out different constellations to me and I'd find myself wondering, "Is he going to kiss me?" But then he'd pull away and continue to talk... and I'd feel silly for wondering. I had decided after some time outside that it was a wonderful date, but that he was by no means going to kiss me that night. I was silly to think he might. It was, after all, the first official date he has asked me on for which I had consented to join him.

Then just a few moments later, as he pointed out another possible location for the little dipper, he leaned in close to show me, then lifted my chin and kissed me. That's right, we kissed on our first real date. And it was wonderful. But it was four years in the making, so I think it was justified. I couldn't believe that I was kissing my friend. It was strange and wonderful all at the same time. Later, T.M.I.G.T.M. would tell me that he was waiting for me to lean back and smack him, telling him that we were just friends! Now I kind of wish I would have.... :)

And that concludes my version of our first real date... or at least all what I'm going to share with you. Stay tuned for the next installment, "The Courtship (Shorter Than Most, But Long Over Due)."

Until next time, Interweb.

The Evolution

Post-Europe friendship was different than our friendship had ever been. T.M.I.G.T.M. and I spent more time on the phone 'til the wee hours than ever before. We were communicating more and more during the work day (don't turn me in). I began to feel as if my day wasn't complete unless I'd talked to T.M.I.G.T.M. Then there was my super fun birthday dinner with a big group of my friends. T.M.I.G.T.M. was out of town on a project for work and I was sad the whole time that he wasn't there. I went home and spent a couple hours chatting with him at the end of the night. We talked about the girl(s) he was dating. I was still genuinely interested. And we talked about the boy(s) I was dating. He was genuinely interested. But mostly we just talked about dating and how much easier it would be if the people we dated shared our views and opinions on dating. I remember getting off the phone and thinking to myself, "It's a shame T.M.I.G.T.M. and I could never work out."

A week or two later I realized that an event for which I had purchased tickets for months earlier, was the following weekend. T.M.I.G.T.M. helped me work up the courage to ask a boy to go with me... a boy that I didn't know well, but was a friendly acquaintance at church. I had thought the boy was a cutie for some time. I asked him to join me, but he informed me he was going to be out of town that weekend. I was almost relieved that the boy couldn't go. I approached T.M.I.G.T.M. after an Institute class and said (very smoothly, I'm sure), "Would you want to go with me? I really want to go with you. I should have asked you to begin with." At this point I was surprised by two things: the realization that I really only wanted to go with T.M.I.G.T.M., and the positive, excited response which he gave.

The day of the concert came and I was so excited. I made us some treats (yes, Muddy Buddies) and got ready to go. T.M.I.G.T.M. came to pick me up and we were off. We met my sister and her boys at the concert. We sat on the lawn and enjoyed a wonderful concert. I laughed so much that night. I was impressed as T.M.I.G.T.M. took my nephews at intermission to get them hot chocolate. It felt so natural and so fun that T.M.I.G.T.M. and I should be on a date. It didn't really hit me until the ride home when I was hit with the tireds quite like I've never experienced. I rested the long drive home while he took care of me and drove us home. I felt very content.

The next day, I still didn't think much of my feelings for T.M.I.G.T.M., but I knew that I wanted to see him. Just as I was thinking of him, he called my phone and made plans to go the fireworks with me that evening. He came by my house and I invited him to join my family (briefly) for some BBQ deliciousness. We left for the fireworks and met a large group of our friends. I laid our blanket out and struck up a conversation with some nearby friends. A few minutes later, I noticed that T.M.I.G.T.M. was not only gone, but seated by a cute girl (who I had been encouraging him to date). I felt weird. But I kept talking to avoid the feelings. Then the fireworks started and he came my way... just to get his jacket... then went back to sit by the cute girl. I wanted to cry and I didn't know why. I felt angry, sad, confused, all at the same time. Why did I care that my friend was sitting by a cute girl who I had been promoting to him? The fireworks ended and I gathered my things. T.M.I.G.T.M. came over to me to tell me how much fun he'd had sitting with the cute girl. My heart sank to the very bottom of my stomach. I was sure I was going to hurl. I immediately broke out in a nervous sweat. WHY DID I CARE? T.M.I.G.T.M. told me of the after party he was putting together, and I asked him if he minded taking me home first. I gave no explanation, just that I needed to go home. Then I immediately called my girl bff and freaked out!

The next week T.M.I.G.T.M. and his bff were gone for a few days hiking King's Peak. The morning he returned, he called me. He asked what I was doing that night, and I made up some options. I asked what he was doing. He replied with, "I'm going on a date." That response was followed by the longest awkward pause known to man. I took a second to gather my wits and remind myself that I was his friend. I then made a bold move. I asked him who his date was with, trying to sound as interested as I could. He replied, "With you."

The Friendship (Phase the Second)

The comfort of the casual friendship between T.M.I.G.T.M. and myself lasted for sometime. I always thought highly of him, but didn't think much more. Because we'd both had our many chances at dating, and our fate was sealed as friendship, or so I thought....

Sometime in 2007, T.M.I.G.T.M. and I started to spend more time together. We relied less on the group for our friendship and a little more on one another. We were friends— really, really good friends. Our chats started to be a little more revealing of our inner psyche, and my fondness for T.M.I.G.T.M. as an independent friend entity grew more and more. I began to go to him more with my boy problems and he came to me more with his girl problems. He earned himself the position of my go-to male friend whenever I needed a boy's perspective on any and everything. T.M.I.G.T.M. dated and had serious relationships with a girl or two during this phase. All the while, I was by his side as his friend. I knew I would get a phone call from him as soon as something of consequence happened in the relationships. I was happy to be there for him, because I genuinely cared for him. At this point, not once did I feel bad about not being an interest in his life. My role as his friend and confidant was satisfying as I made life-changing discoveries in my own life and changed career paths. I was thankful for the stability of his friendship during a time of change and upheaval in my life.

Last summer T.M.I.G.T.M. highly recommended that I date his bff and old college roommate, which I did. He was a great guy. He was similar to T.M.I.G.T.M. in so many ways that I automatically felt comfortable around him. In fact, it sometimes felt like I was dating a slightly altered form of T.M.I.G.T.M. We had a fun time dating. We went on double dates with T.M.I.G.T.M. and his girlfriend. It was really fun. I loved having my boyfriend and my best friend at the same time.

Months flew by, and trouble arose in paradise. I discovered that the bff and I weren't a permanent match. I couldn't ever put my finger on it, there was nothing wrong with this boy, but it was wasn't clicking in my head. All the while T.M.I.G.T.M. maintained his close friendship with me and my ex-boyfriend (his bff).

Even more months flew by, again, and I dated various boys, while T.M.I.G.T.M. dated the same girl. Sometime after that, T.M.I.G.T.M. broke up with the afore mentioned girl. I never did hear the details of the breakup because I was out of town, and I'm okay with that. All I know is that I came home from wherever I was and T.M.I.G.T.M. was ready to jump back into the single scene, and I was right by his side to support him. We continued on with the usual frienshipping, all the while, progressively spending more and more time together without even realizing it. Neither of us had intentions of dating one another at this point. We simply knew that dating sucked and we thoroughly enjoyed spending time together.

I specifically remember one night, last spring, in an Institute class when I sat next to T.M.I.G.T.M. I was having a handful of small boy troubles that were piling up to be super annoying. I passed a note to T.M.I.G.T.M. saying that I was going to take a leave of absence from my dating life while the dust settled. And he innocently wrote back, "What dating life?" I, of course, was offended as he hurried to explain that he wasn't aware of any dating activity going on in my life. I reassured him that there was plenty of dating going on, but that I just chose not to share. And then I pouted for a few hours.

About a month later, T.M.I.G.T.M. and his bff were planning a road trip to which I was explicitly not invited. However each of my best friends were. In a rage, I confronted T.M.I.G.T.M. in the hall after church and told him how absurd I thought it was that I wasn't invited on my ex-boyfriend's trip. And he proceeded to tell me that I was being a brat. From that moment, I began to notice T.M.I.G.T.M. in a slightly different light. He stood up to me. He called me on the carpet. None of my guy friends did that to me. I got away with being a brat all the time. But not with T.M.I.G.T.M.; he knew me. He knew that I was a brat and needed to be told that in order to understand the situation. Although I couldn't show it, I respected him more for standing up to me.

He went on the trip... kept on dating various girls. I went to Europe for a while... dated various boys. I received one email from T.M.I.G.T.M. while I was away in Europe... to inform me that he was dating a cute girl that knew me. Somewhere deep down inside of me, something began to simmer.... and I went on with my life.

I returned from Europe late on a Saturday evening. Because of the jet lag, I never slept that night and was up bright and early for church the next morning. I walked into the first meeting to find one empty seat next to T.M.I.G.T.M. I was greeted with a surprised look, a warm smile, and a big hug. I'll never forget that hug... though I didn't realize the significance of the hug at the time. Somewhere deep down, the flame began to grow just a little bigger.

And our friendship picked up right where it left off a month prior.

The Friendship (Phase the First)

My last installment of my love story, entitled, "The Meeting," recapped details about how the man I'm going to marry (T.M.I.G.T.M) and I met. Our story is, by no means, on its way to becoming the romance novel of the year. But it's our story and it's a good one. "The Meeting" ended with T.M.I.G.T.M asking me out a second time and being turned down (regretfully) because I was dating Butthead.

As the months went by and I continued to date Butthead, I didn't give much thought to T.M.I.G.T.M. I do know that I saw him every now and again at church and social functions. We small-talked here and there, nothing too memorable. I broke up with Butthead and was back in the single scene full-force. However, Butthead had taken a toll on my confidence and I was a bit skittish around boys. I actually started to become better friends with T.M.I.G.T.M.'s roommate and friend. Roommate and I enjoyed talking politics and opinions of higher ed policies. It was because of this friend that I actually started hanging out with T.M.I.G.T.M. A gal pal of mine would come along with myself and the two boys. The four of us hung out a number of times. We would go out to eat, sit around and chat, hit up parties, or play "The Game" (my made up trademark of a card game.)

As the group of us spent time together, I began to wonder if I had a crush on T.M.I.G.T.M. I wasn't too sure of myself at this time in my life. I wasn't sure if my interests were sincere, or if I was needy and emotional after the breakup. So I stuffed any thoughts of interest in T.M.I.G.T.M. into the back of my head. Plus T.M.I.G.T.M. seemed completely indifferent towards me. He was as nice to me as the next girl, but gave me no significant amount of attention or time. Over a number of months our friendship stayed neutral and somewhat removed. We called to notify one another of parties and other social events, but never to spend much time chatting or really getting to know each other. At one point in this phase, T.M.I.G.T.M. actually asked one of my good friends on a date. So I completely wrote him off.

It seemed as though I was content to be his not-too-close friend, and he was content to be mine. And we went on with our lives, dating various people, but not each other, always coming back to our friendship when the so-called relationships ended.

The Meeting

Many people ask you how you met your fiancé once they hear you're engaged. I'm not sure if it's something they really care to know, or just one of those things you ask as as a formality. At any rate, here's the story... according to me:

It was a dark, cold, stormy night... Okay, that's not completely true. But it very well could have been because it was December, almost 4 years ago in 2005. I had graduated from WSU the spring prior and was almost half way through my first year of teaching 3rd grade. One weekend night in earlyish December, a couple gal pals and I decided to go to a holiday party to meet some cute, new single faces of the new singles ward of which we were attending. I was 22, in over my head at work, and not loving the idea of introducing myself into yet another "meat market" to be on display as one of the "new girls" in the ward. As soon as we arrived at the party, I found a nice spot of carpet where I could sit and be anti-social. A few boys who I had previously met stopped by my corner to say hello. I very nicely blew them off and continued to groom my section of the carpet with my hands.

Eventually, two nice-looking, friendly young men came over to join me on the carpet. It was obvious that they were good friends, and that they weren't going to just say hi and let me blow them off. They were a welcomed change of pace. One of the boys faded out of the conversation, and the boy who would eventually be my fiancé stuck around on the carpet for a good amount of silly, pointless, fun conversation. I don't remember much of the conversation other than the fact that he made me guess his last name, which I thought was ridiculous and hilarious, all at the same time. I left the party having met some nice people and didn't think any more about any of the encounters from that night.

A week or two later, I got a phone call from the boy who made me guess his last name. He confessed that he had asked my friend for my number and proceeded to ask me out on a date. I don't remember why or for what reason... but I was "busy" the night for which he requested my company. A month or two went by. I would see this boy at church, say hello and have some small talk here and there. One day after church, this same boy approached me and asked for my number, after he admitted he deleted it after the first attempt. This time I declined him again... because I was dating someone (who turned out to be a total butt head, by the way.) I remember feeling disappointed. It was a "gut" feeling. I was really surprised at how disappointed I was to not be able to go out with him— especially because I was dating a "great" guy and this boy wasn't a boy that I would have consciously picked out at that time in my life. I can still remember, today, that sick, disappointed feeling... and then blowing it off.

And over the course of the next almost 4 years, this boy and I became great friends. He wrote me off as a possibility and I figured I'd blown my chances with him. This allowed us to get to know each other without any pretenses about dating. And what a great blessing that has been to our relationship... to really know each other at our best and at our worst, before we ever started dating.

This concludes my version of "The Meeting." Please stay tuned for future installments of the story of how two friends fell in love.

Conversations with Norm

Last night some friends of mine were hosting a dessert party. I reluctantly decided that I'd better stop by for at least an hour, so I could claim that I was social this week. I was headed out the door of my parents' house and I called, "See ya. I'm going to get myself a boyfriend." To my surprise, Norm replied, "Yeah right." I stopped dead in my tracks, turned to him and exclaimed, "Excuse me!" He must have felt the need to clarify because his closing statement was, "You're too picky." [Door slams]

The End

Afterword: Incidentally, I did not get myself a boyfriend at the party. There are good reasons, however. Unfortunately, I am too tired to justify the circumstances.

I Left the Gun and Took the Canoli

Last weekend my friend and I made a quick getaway to St. George for the weekend. Her parents happen to own a very nice house down there and we happen to take advantage of it as often as we can. We have been five times in the past nine months, but this was the first time we went with just the two of us. Our goal was to read, watch The Godfather, shop, sleep, and wear no makeup for the weekend. After stopping at a couple different Davis County Libraries to get some good books on tape for the drive, we grabbed a smoothie, some chocolate chip cookies, and we were off! We didn't get there until late Friday night. We slept in on Saturday so that we'd have the energy needed to shop the day away, which we did. My friend taught me how to shop at TJ Max'n More. I feel like I'm on the verge of having a panic attack anytime I step foot into a TJ Max or Ross. I don't even know where to begin! But she reassured me that the "'n More" in the title meant that it was a cut above other TJ Max stores. Whether the "n More" had anything to do with it or not, I managed to find some really great things... that I didn't necessarily need.

That night we grabbed some dinner and popped in the first disc of The Godfather. Neither of us had seen any of the Godfather movies, and we decided it was time to see what all the fuss is about. Can I just say, that I finally see what all the fuss is about... Al Pacino was HOT when he was young!! However, had I known that Diane Keaton was in the movie, I wouldn't have bothered. She makes my skin crawl.

Sunday consisted of church with a Samoan choir, a picnic lunch out at some canyon, reading, and the last 2 Godfather movies. Well, at least the 2nd Godfather movie and a few minutes of the 3rd. All of the movies are pretty violent, but the third is the only movie that is set in more contemporary times. I think it got a little too violent and was a little too real with the setting. We shut it off about 15 minutes into the movie... and now I will never know what happens to the Godfather. If you know, PLEASE tell me what happens in the last movie!! All I know is that they made Al Pacino look old and he wasn't hot at all. Perhaps that's why we really turned the movie off.

Monday we slept in to try to counter the effects of the conversation that ran into the wee hours of the morning. We cleaned the house and headed for home. I think we were both secretly excited to leave so that we could finish our book on tape that we'd started on the way down.

I learned a lot that weekend.

I learned to leave the gun and take the Canoli.

I learned that if you anger a mob head, he will kill your $350,000 horse and put its head in your bed while you're sleeping.

I learned that actors that I find attractive now, will someday be unappealing to future generations.

I learned that Al Pacino was really hot when he was young. I don't know if I'd mentioned that already.

I learned that any male looks awesome in a pin strip, 5-button suit with a hat.

I learned to go to the mattresses when things get tough.

I learned to be leery of a brother who claims to have forgiven me for attempting to murder him because he might send me out on a fishing boat with a hitman. He is, after all, a mob head.

I learned that Diane Keaton bugs me whether she's a blonde or a brunette.

I learned that I don't want to marry into the Italian mafia, after all.

A Little Bit Goes a Long Way

This cute boy sitting on my lap is one of my nephews. He happens to be the nephew who made my Christmas this year. :)

Like any single person, there are aspects of Christmas that I dread every year. I love the season, the shopping, the food, and the family. But sometimes the family parties, and other parties, can be painful to get through. I have been the only single sibling in my family for 7 or 8 years now and I feel like this year was the first year that I felt okay about braving another Christmas Eve alone. Some of my nieces and nephews are a little older now and keep me company at the parties, that helps a whole lot.

This Christmas Eve, the nephew pictured above showed up at my parents' house and marched straight downstairs towards me, with a little green box in his hand. He said, "This is for you, Megan." And he handed me the box. I've never received a Christmas gift from a niece of nephew before because they're all pretty young. They're just learning to get gifts for their siblings and a cousin whose name they draw. So the single act of him giving me a gift melted my heart right then and there. I gave him a big squeeze and told him that I loved him. He ran off to play with his cousins.

After he walked away his mom told me that when they were at Target a few weeks ago, my nephew had seen this gift and mentioned to his mom that it would be something that I would like. Even though I wasn't on his list of people to shop for, he decided to get the gift for me and pay for it with his own money. He is only five, so you can imagine that he doesn't have much of his own money to begin with.

At the end of the evening's festivities, after all the kids had opened their presents, I opened my gift from my nephew. Inside the box were two pairs of mittens. They DID look like something that I would like. In fact, I had seen them myself at Target and commented on how cute they were to my friend. My nephew was so excited about his gift for me. His little tender heart understands at a young age how good it feels to do things for other people. He has no idea how much his little act meant to me. I get choked up every time I think about it or brag to my friends about my new mittens. It just goes to show that a little bit can go a long way!

i cry

I think that I have given the impression in previous posts that I NEVER cry. That is certainly not the case. I RARELY cry. However, the following are things that can actually make me cry (aside from the obvious heartbreaks of the dating world):

1. Old people

A few weeks ago my ward delivered Thanksgiving food boxes to elderly people in an apartment complex in Salt Lake for the Utah Food Bank. The complex is designed for low income elderly people to reside. As my friend Paul and I knocked on each door, we were greeted by very friendly, very lonely old people. Each person lived alone. One woman was particularly touching. She asked us to bring her food in and put it in her kitchen for her. She reminded me of my own grandmother that is now passed away. She was sitting a mint green winged-back chair watching The Wheel of Fortune with all sorts of knick knacks on the table in front of her. She was in a floral print night gown and grinned from ear to ear the whole while we were there. The first thing I noticed when we walked in was her long table filled with pictures of what I can only assume are her grandchildren and family. As we made room in her freezer for her food, she pulled out a single chocolate chip cookie in a ziploc that had been saved in her freezer for some special occasion. She offered it to me and my friend. This made me laugh a little. As we tried to leave, she offered us some candy from her dish that was no where to be found. After a few minutes of searching for the missing candy dish, we told her we had to go. She felt so bad that she couldn't find it and felt even worse that we had to leave. This made me cry.

2. Babies and children

I was no good at being a teacher. Any time a student came to me to tell me that another student had been picking on them I would get upset. I had to act logically as a teacher, but as soon as I talked to the student, gave them a hug, and sent them back to recess, I always cried a little bit. 

I cry a little every time I hold a new baby.

3. Small animals

Big animals don't affect me so much, but there's something about small, seemingly-helpless animals. I cried like a baby at the age of 22 when our family dog of 15 years was put to sleep. I almost cried last night when I accidentally ran over a dead kitten in the road. And then I threw up a little in my mouth. I can't watch TV programs that involve sad stories about small animals. On the way to church on I-15 last winter there was a small dog in the middle of the freeway near the Beck Street Exit. I pulled off to the side and called my mom to see where I should take the dog once I caught it (which I planned to do). My mom yelled at me louder than I've ever heard her yell as she told me to get back in my car and threatened to kill me if I crossed I-15 on foot. After a few minutes she talked me into letting the dog be and driving on to church. I cried the rest of the way to church, thinking about that poor dog. Although I tell myself that he found the exit and his way home to a loving family.