Journey to 13.1

Just about to start my first training run for the half.

A few weeks ago, after I turned in the final draft of my thesis to my advisor, my visiting teachers took me to dinner to celebrate. Sitting around eating burritos in Freebird in Sugarhouse, they asked what was next. I jokingly said I was thinking of running a 5k by my birthday. Both of them said no way - that's so much time, you can totally run a half-marathon!

Record scratch.

A HALF-MARATHON?!? 13.1 whole MILES?!

Well, long story short, I'm registered to run a half-marathon the day before my 29th birthday. Because I'm notoriously un-self-motivated (as the sixty pounds I've gained since my mission can arrest to), I roped my little sister into doing it with me. She had her second baby a few weeks ago and was just cleared to start exercising again, so I thought she would be a) up for it, and b) at about the same fitness level. (Except she's probably more fit than I am, ha.) She agreed, like a crazy person, so now we have 20 weeks to go from total dweebs to rockin' 13.1-milers.

I'm not going to lie. This is terrifying. I'm not a big believer in myself. I stay far away from hard things, and when I can't avoid them, I procrastinate and whine about them (see my Facebook page or my Instagram for proof of this re my thesis #annmarievsgradschool). But the other morning, I was lying in bed at my sister's house, with my baby niece snuggled in my arms, breathing slowly and totally adorably as she took a morning nap. I, having been awoken by her early-morning serenade and unwilling quite as yet to get up and greet the day, invited her to come lie in bed with me. As she slept and dreamed next to me, I lay thinking about this terrifying prospect of running a half-marathon. It was such a wonderful, precious moment - Baby J is so confident and full of life, so sure that she can do anything. I didn't want to spoil that memory by chickening out of something that would be hard but worthwhile. I didn't want to look back in ten years and admit to her that I didn't believe in myself but that of course she can do anything. I want her to think I'm the coolest, most amazing auntie on the planet, and part of that means I'm going to have to keep up with her - and since she's just like her momma, she's a 3-volt machine running on 90 volts.

So here's to doing hard things. And believing in yourself, even if only for the sake of others.

Here's me on W1D1 (stealing my roomie's mirror): 188.6 pounds, hips 43", waist 37", upper arm 14", thigh 27"

Three Generations

Ever since I moved here two and a half years ago, I've been meaning to sit down with my grandparents and interview them on camera about their parents, their own lives, and my parents. Then both of my grandfathers died, and I lost that opportunity forever, something I still regret. The impending deadline of moving away for graduate school finally prompted me to action, and these last two Mondays I've taken my camera over to my mom's mother's house to interview her.

Last week didn't go too well, simply because I neglected to make sure my camera battery was charged. I still managed to get about twenty minutes of interview time, though, mostly about how my grandmother's parents met and a little bit about my great-grandparents. I had just started asking her about her mission when she began to feel ill and our session was cut short.

This week I remembered to charge my battery, and got some great stories about my grandma's mission, but halfway through my camera cut us off again. Not because of the battery this time, but because my memory card had run out of room! Thankfully I had my other card with me, but soon that, too was filled up. Not surprising, since I hadn't erased any of the pictures on either card since I got them for Christmas last year. Today I got more than a half an hour of interview footage. Next time I'll make sure my battery is fully charged and my cards are empty!

The three generations the title of the post refers to is the three generations of sister missionaries in my family: my grandmother, my mother, and me. When I realized that a few weeks ago I was so excited: what a wonderful tradition and heritage! Of course, I always knew my grandmother and my mother served missions, but I had never really processed how unusual that is. Up until last October, when President Monson lowered the age that sisters can serve from 21 to 19, sister missionaries made up a tiny percentage of the overall missionary force of the Church. Most women of my grandmother's generation in the Church didn't serve missions, and both my mother and I were far outnumbered by elders on our missions. I hope, though, that one day I'll be able to help add a fourth generation to that tradition, and that in my daughter's (or daughters'!) day there will be just as many sisters as there are elders.

Quote of the Day

My youngest brother, age 8, said to me as I was tucking him into bed this evening:

"I hope the apocalypse doesn't come when I get married."

Just a little bemused by this seemingly out-of-left-field statement that came out of our discussion about our baby niece, I asked him why. "Because I want to have kids," came the matter-of-fact response. Hard on the heels of that revelation came, "But kids are a pain in the neck."

I wonder if he realizes the irony of his observation.

Happy V-Day to Me!

For someone who has no special someone, I sure did have quite an impressive V-Day haul.

And this isn't even counting two cupcakes and the three other cake balls I already ate before taking this picture.

It started this morning when I arrived at my nannying job. The woman I work for is a professor at the university, and she made cupcakes for her class for the holiday and left one for me in the fridge as a valentine from the little girl I take care of. Then, when she got home I had another because she had some left over. (Let me tell you, that cupcake is possibly the yummiest thing I've ever eaten. At least this morning, anyway.) Then I arrived at work to find my boss had left six delicious red velvet cake balls in a cute bag on my desk. After work, as I was on my way downtown to do a little pants shopping a random group of girls passing by handed me the yellow paper heart.

Then I arrived home to find this waiting for me on my bed!

I know I knock them sometimes (physically as well as verbally), but little brothers have a few redeeming qualities. I have to say, I'm not very good at expressing it, but I'm very grateful for mine.

Just a few minutes ago there was a loud knock at my door and these showed up, thanks to some awesome friends. I'm pretty sure the one on the top left is meant to be a zombie cupcake. I already ate it. It was delicious.

I know Valentine's Day is dreaded by some, but to be honest I didn't spend the day dwelling on it. I even managed to forget that today was even V-Day several times. As I was shopping after work I wondered why the stores seemed so deserted and under-staffed...only to realize that, Duh, it's Valentine's Day! Anyhoo, I'm grateful for all the people who have gone out of their way to make me feel loved and appreciated today. Right back atcha!

Dear World...Again

My baby brother is going on a mission! After months (and months and months) of waiting, I woke up to his text saying it had finally come in the mail. After waiting several more hours while the family was rounded up, I got to see him open it on Skype. It's actually the first mission call I've seen opened -- in my family, at least, I suppose I did get to see Jordanne open hers. But I was at school when my other brother opened his, and I didn't actually open my own, since I had it sent to my house and I was in Annapolis working.

Yikes. I can't believe we're going to have another missionary in our family! I'm so excited for him to go, though I know his experience will be quite different from mine. He's going Stateside and English speaking, so he'll only be in the MTC for about a week and a half instead of the twelve I was there for.

Lots of big things happening in my family this week! First a baby, then a mission call. The only thing left is an engagement, but I have a feeling no one's going to be getting one of those any time soon.

Dear World

I AM AN AUNT.

Yeah, Baby

Life and Timing and Lack of Control

Not long ago I was talking to my dad on the phone. With a very few, rare exceptions this is an activity I enjoy immensely. While I no longer think my dad knows everything, he has the advantage of years of experience and has struggled with many of the same things I do. On this particular occasion we were discussing life, and how it never seems to go the way I want/expect/hope/plan for it to. I am hard-pressed to come up with even a single example of life working out that way. On the other hand, the list of things that have gone in a completely different direction than I thought they would is long. 

During this talk with my dad, I brought up something a friend and I had been talking about previously, about how very little of what we want for ourselves seems to be what the Lord wants for us. We both confessed to being concerned about this -- are we too stubborn? too prideful? not in touch with the Spirit enough? Surely I should be concerned that every single big life-changing event in my life has included a long period of denial before I finally resigned myself to it, and that none of my life plans have unfolded remotely like I wanted them to.

Just a little while later, that same friend was teaching in church and shared this quote from this talk by Elder Dallin H. Oaks of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles:

"How fundamentally different my life is than I had sought to plan. My professional life has changed. My personal life has changed. But the commitment I made to the Lord -- to put Him first in my life and to be ready for whatever He would have me do -- has carried me through these changes of eternal importance... It never ceases to amaze me that even when we plan out our lives to match up what we think would please our Heavenly Father we very rarely get the plan quite right. It's a good thing he is willing to make changes to our plans even when we don't understand the changes. It allows us to grow and become so much more than we ever would have made of ourselves had we stuck to our original plan."

It struck me upon rereading it today: If an apostle of the Lord hasn't had his life work out the way he expected, I'm certainly in good company.

The difference is, I'm sure he has handled it with much more grace and faith than I have. Particularly lately. I have been struggling so much with finding purpose and direction in my life when I know whatever plans I make will ultimately just get interrupted or derailed. I struggle with flexibility and adapting myself and my goals to situations that are thrust upon me. I feel overwhelmed with the magnitude of the choices facing me and paralyzed at the thought of somehow screwing up and loosing opportunities I desperately want, personally and professionally. But, as my father has told me repeatedly throughout my life, making no choice is still making a choice. The irony of the situation is that by procrastinating or shelving making decisions I end up losing all the opportunities before me I'm delaying having to decide on and am forced to choose things I would never have wanted for myself.

The truth is that no one's life works out exactly the way they thought it would, because no one can know what's waiting for them just ahead, invisible around the bend in the road. We cannot control the decisions of others or the Lord's timing, both of which have tremendous impact on our lives.

However, Elder Oaks addressed this in another version of those same remarks:

"Faith in the Lord Jesus Christ prepares us for whatever life brings. This kind of faith prepares us to deal with life's opportunities -- to take advantage of those that are received and to persist through the disappointments of those that are lost. In the exercise of that faith, we should commit ourselves to the priorities and standards we will follow on matters we do not control and persist faithfully in those commitments, whatever happens to us because of the agency of others or the timing of the Lord. When we do this, we will have a constancy in our lives that will give us direction and peace. Whatever the circumstances beyond our control, our commitments and standards can be constant."

As much as I'm resisting what I'm being taught, I know that this is what I'm supposed to be learning. To let go of my rigid, detailed expectations and trust that the Lord knows what is best for me, and the best time for those best things for me.

"It is not enough that we are going in the right direction. The timing must be right, and if the time is not right, our actions should be adjusted to the Lord's timetable." 

Not that that faith and trust is a passive thing. It requires me to make those preparations so that I can take the opportunities that the Lord would have me pursue. And I also need to remember something my father said wrote:

"The lesson for me is that, certainly the Lord shapes us, but he does so chiefly within the circumstances we are handed and we choose. He helps us make the best choices based on his vision and our willingness to be shaped and to be patient. The lesson is that “this is a test,” and that as a test, it will hurt sometimes. In the end, however, the atonement is large enough to “wipe away all tears.”"

Sister Therapy

Amen.

September Recap

Green Day released a song when I was in high school called "Wake Me Up When September Ends". Now, I've never wanted to sleep through September; it's one of my favorite months, and not just because I was born in it (though that does make it pretty awesome). But it does feel rather like I have slept through it, just because it's zoomed by. A lot has happened this month, actually -- I moved, I got my first grown-up job paycheck, my mom came to visit, I had a birthday, I got a second job, there was a temple open house and dedication, my best friend left on a mission, I made new friends, and I made old friends better friends. Oh, and I ripped my favorite pair of jeans. You know, got to make sure I get in all that really important information. So, since much of that I neglected to blog about, here's a short recap of September.

1 September: I moved out of my friend Jordanne's house, where I'd been living all summer with her and her family while I figured out what I was going to do with myself. I also got my very first grown-up job paycheck from IELI (albeit only a half of one, since I only worked half of August).

2 September: The high councilman over stake emergency preparedness asked me to accept a calling as the stake emergency preparedness committee co-chair.

3 September: I finally got all my boxes and the furniture in my new room unpacked and organized. And it was my first official paid holiday, too (yay for Labor Day!).

5 September: My mom flew into Utah and stopped by to see me for about three minutes on her way up to Bear Lake with her sisters and cousins for a reunion. She also dropped off a memory foam topper for my bed, which has radically altered my life for the better.

7 September: I left work early for the first time to go to Shannon's (my best friend's little sister) own endowment session. Afterwards, I met up with a friend to explore the Gallery Walk downtown, and we hung out at Coldstone afterwards, eating ice cream and listening to the screaming in the stadium during the Utah State vs. University of Utah game. (It was loud screaming, people. We could hear it a mile+ away. For the record, Utah State won. Go Aggies!)

10 September: My mom back from her reunion, she picked me, my brother, and my cousin up to drive over to Brigham City (about a half-hour away) for the Brigham City temple open house. We meet up with some of my dad's sisters and their kids (and one husband) to tour the temple before it's dedicated. It was absolutely gorgeous! My favorite part, though, was the ceilings in the sealing rooms. The picture below doesn't show it, but painted on the ceiling was a large circle of brilliant blue with flowering branches of peach blossoms. They were stunning.

Picture here from hjnews.com

After that, we drove to my aunt and uncle's house for a family dinner of delicious minestroni soup and fresh french bread (with donuts for dessert!). My uncle asked if I'd like to drive his manual 1963 Jeep, which in his words has "no power-anything" (no power steering, no power brakes, etc). I drove down to the river bottom and up and down a veeeery steep hill. That was a blast, even if my 15-year-old cousin drove on the way home. I only thought we were going to die about three times, so she did pretty well, I'd say. Riding standing up in the back was definitely a fun time.

11 September: I went to work, then went over to my grandma's house to spend time with her and my mom. We stopped by my friend Jordanne's house to say goodbye to her; she left for the Provo MTC and eventually a mission in Chile the next day.

12 September: I met up with a friend for Aggie Ice Cream after work to officially kick off my birthday celebration. Nothing in the world is as delicious as Aggie Blue Mint.

13 September: Happy 26th birthday to me! I woke up super early (630!) for some reason, but lay in bed until about 830 when my mom came over to make me a birthday breakfast of French breakfast muffins and orange juice. (Well, she bought the orange juice.) After that we spent a few hours shopping, and we made sure to stop by the Distribution Center so I could purchase my parents a present with my very first paycheck (a Korean tradition). She dropped me off at work, where this was waiting for me on my desk:

My boss had stopped by to pick up a brownie for me, and our director found a tea light, lit it, and sung happy birthday to me. The whole department signed a birthday card for me, too. My mom picked me up from work and took me over to my grandma's house were we made dinner and I put my candles on my brownies (I don't like cake so I have brownies instead). Most of my family that lives in the area stopped by for some birthday brownies and ice cream and some catching up. 26 candles makes for a lot of light!

14 September: I met with a couple looking for someone to watch their 8-week-old baby girl in the mornings. Since my office job is only 1-5, I was looking for a better way to spend my mornings than sleeping late. The couple seemed nice and I adored their baby girl at first glance, so I was hoping to get the job. After meeting with them, I met my mom and grandma at the temple and went to lunch downtown at Great Harvest, where we had fantastic sandwiches and a delicious cinnamon roll for dessert. We ate outside, and the weather was gorgeous!

That evening, I went for Korean food with a friend and saw The Amazing Spider-Man for the second time (the first time I went to go see it on the Fourth of July with my little brother). It was just as good the second time around.

15 September: I worked in the temple cafeteria for the lunch shift and had a great time with the two other girls who also volunteered. I also had my first emergency preparedness committee meeting, to prepare for the stake training meeting the next day.

18 September: I got a call from the couple I interviewed with the last Friday, and they offered me the job! I'm so excited to start in October. I think I'm really going to enjoy it, and I'll finally be working full-time, albeit at two different jobs.

21 September: The week was pretty slow and not very eventful. I met up with a friend for dinner and to explore our local (tiny) zoo. That's where I discovered this little gem I blogged about before. It was also the last day of summer, since the autumnal equinox was the next day.

23 September: Regular church was cancelled in order for us to be able to attend one of the dedicatory sessions of the Brigham City temple, which was broadcast to all the meetinghouses in the area. It was a special event, especially hearing President Boyd K. Packer talk about growing up in Brigham City and his memories of the city and how the temple came to be built.

26 September: I get a text from my mom in the afternoon that my little brother (the one who lives and goes to school here in the very same town that I live in) was being admitted to the hospital. They didn't know what it was yet, but it didn't seem too serious. That evening, I went to help my dad's mom put up some decorations for fall. While stepping off the top of a step ladder, I managed to rip my favorite pair of jeans. ~sad face~ But my grandma and I still had a good time, and the decorations look pretty good, if I do say so myself.

27 September: I went to visit the little brother in the hospital, and it appeared that he was anything but wasting away in sad loneliness, since he had an almost constant stream of vistors. We had a nice chat, and then I met up with a friend for gelata at Zeppe's (only the yummiest place ever).

28 September: Our director at work took the office staff (me and our secretary/adviser) out to lunch at a local (and delicious) Italian restaurant. After work, me and some girlfriends drove down to SLC to wander around the new City Creek Mall, have dinner at The Cheesecake Factory (so. much. food), and spend the night at the Marriott downtown. It was a fun getaway, and our stay was free, thanks to my friend's aunt's Marriott reward points.

The view from our room on the very top floor of the Marriott in downtown SLC

My ginormous dessert, the delicious warm apple crisp. It was good cold the next day, too.

29 September: And now to today! Whew! My girlfriends and I slept in, laid around chatting about life until checkout time, ate brunch at Denny's, and drove home. This evening was the General Relief Society Meeting, the very first one with Sister Burton (my mission president's wife) as General Relief Society president. She gave a great talk! I was only sad that I wasn't able to go with my friends to the meeting in the Conference Center in SLC. Sometimes not having a car is very inconvenient.

And there you go. Not exactly a short recap of my September, but hopefully it wasn't boring.

A Sisterly Perspective

Yeah, the one where I'm taller than her? That was taken a loooooooong time ago.

I'm not going to lie. Life feels pretty tough right now. Tough, and maybe a little bit pointless. It isn't (pointless), of course, but it feels that way. And it feels hard. And challenging. As I was telling my sister earlier while we were talking on the phone, obstacles in life seem insurmountable when you've got your nose pressed right up against them, scraping the brick (or whatever else your obstacles are made out of). It takes backing up twenty feet and scrutinizing them to realize that they're really a stepping-stone to where you want to be. What I'm struggling for right now is that perspective.

That's why I'm grateful for my sister. She's not the only sister I've got, but she's the only grown-up sister I've got and she also has the dubious honor of being my best friend. She gives me a little of that perspective, coaxing me to step back from where I'm stubbornly rubbing my nose into the brick, trying to wear a hole through it, and see the bigger picture. I've got a lot of blessings, but I think she's one of the best. Thanks, sis, for being my perspective and my best friend. I couldn't do it without you.

Look what I can do!

Seriously, why did no one tell me about PicMonkey sooner?! I'm not sure if everyone is using it, but if they are, it explains why so many bloggers have cute collages of pictures. I knew they must be using some kind of editing dealio, but I couldn't imagine everyone had Adobe Photoshop. PicMonkey makes them drag-and-drop easy! I'm sold. ~runs off to make more~

Oh, my poor readers. You're in for all kinds of collages now. If only a had a better camera than the 1 megapixel, medium-res one on my phone.

July Already?

A good description of how I feel these days. Plus, I just love Mute Math, 'cause they're awesome.

Is 2012 really, truly already halfway over?

I wish I had some interesting/significant news to share with you, but the truth is life is pretty much the same old same old. I'm still in Logan, still living with a friend and her family, still hunting for a full-time "grown up" job, still looking for a small house to rent with a friend.

I had a fun 4th of July holiday, though. I went to watch the fireworks with my Grandma Willis at her retirement community on the evening of the 3rd. (Logan has its fireworks on the 3rd, since the company who does our show also does the Stadium of Fire on the 4th.) I was getting all excited about the fireworks, clapping and cheering when they started. The residents all gave me strange looks. But isn't that what you're supposed to do when you watch fireworks? It seems boring to just sit there. Nevertheless, we had a good time even if it wasn't overly enthusiastic.

On the morning of the 4th I got a call from my little brother Stephen, who had just gotten back home from Paris (you know, the France one, not the Idaho or Tennessee one) early that morning. We decided to get some pizza for lunch and then go watch The Amazing Spider-Man in 3D together. It was his first 3D movie, and we had a blast and enjoyed the movie immensely. It was very well written and very well executed, and I'm a big fan of Andrew Garfield's portrayal of Peter Parker. (Not to mention he's pretty hot. It's shallow, but I own up to my shallowness.) We spent the rest of the afternoon lazing around his apartment. Rather, I spent the rest of the afternoon lazing while Stephen put away his groceries and did some unpacking. We had an interesting discussion about faith and reason, then headed out to meet our Grandma Saunders and our cousin Doug for Happy-Birthday-America celebratory ice cream at Charlie's, a local ice cream parlor that sells ice cream made right here in Cache Valley. Then we went back to Stephen's apartment and lit our $2 sparklers. (Just in case you were wondering...they were seriously lame. Probably we should have shelled out a little more than $2.) All in all it was a relaxing, fun holiday. It was great to see Stephen again. Who knew you could miss a little brother so much??

Ten Things That Are Really Awesome About My Life

When I find myself contemplating how awful my life is, I know it's time to pull out the big guns. Because really, how awful can my life be, right? So here they are:

Ten Things That Are Really Awesome About My Life

1. I have a body that works.

Seriously! How awesome is that? It may not be Natalie-Portman-Kiera-Knightley-Emily-Blunt-gorgeous, but everything works pretty well. All my arms and legs move like they're supposed to, I don't have any illness or conditions, and aside from some fillings and glasses and some flabby abs, everything in pretty good condition.

2. I have a mind that works.

I have to be honest, I'm pretty stoked about this one. I'm not a genius, and I'm not claiming to be one, but I can usually learn things pretty easily. (Unless it involves math; then it's not so easy.) I can think through problems and come up with solutions and make rational, reasoned decisions.

3. I am passionate.

I think life would be pretty lackluster without things to be passionate about. They make life fuller and more exciting.

 4. I have an education.

And I have the student loans to prove it, too. Despite the fact that no one is beating my door down to hire me, I know that my education has helped me to grow tremendously as a person.

5. I wake up in a comfortable bed each morning; 

I go to bed in that same bed each night.

And that bed is safe and bug-free and the room is climate-controlled. This is a luxury that many people in the world don't get to enjoy.

6. My family is supportive and loving.

I didn't realize what an amazing thing this was until I got old enough to realize that not everyone had a family where this is true. My family isn't perfect, of course, but we all love each other.

7. I have friends that love me for who I am

It's taken a long for me to come to believe that there are people that actively seek out my companionship, but I am so grateful for the ones that do. I'm grateful for each person who knows me and still loves me anyway.

8. I find enjoyment in learning.
Which is not to say I love doing homework, but I'm grateful to be blessed with a natural sense of curiosity and a thirst for knowledge. You don't get to take much with you when you die, so I'm glad I don't have to learn to enjoy the only thing you do get to take.

9. Many, many amazing people have invested in me. 

I have been privileged to interact and serve with some truly extraordinary people. So many of them have taken the time to instruct me and teach me by their example. These many people have done a lot to make me a better person.

10. I have potential and a future.

Nothing but my own limitations really stand in the way of becoming what I want to be. I'm healthy, educated, and intelligent; I face no danger of being taken away from my family and friends and made to do something I don't wish to do. 

Stubbornness and Continents

I was a particularly stubborn child. I think my parents can attest to that. I've grown into a particularly stubborn adult. I think my parents can attest to that, too. I like to do things by myself. (Or get other people to do them for me. I'm okay with that, too.) I like to be in control and do things in a logical order - my order.

The funny thing about life is that it doesn't usually work that way.

Life is a collaborative effort. This has been reinforced to me over and over in the last year or so, in my experiences and in quiet moments of reflection. We can't do it alone, and we're not supposed to. Everybody needs somebody - multiple somebodies, actually. We need family. We need friends. We need members of the community. We even need complete strangers. None of us can reach our full potential without other people. It's ignorant, arrogant, and counterproductive to think that or act like we can. Try it. You'll fail.

I think John Donne's famous "No Man Is an Island" poem sums up the implications of this truth much better than I could.

No man is an island,
Entire of itself.
Each is a piece of the continent,
A part of the main.
If a clod be washed away by the sea,
Europe is the less.
As well as if a promontory were.
As well as if a manor of thine own
Or of thine friend's were.
Each man's death diminishes me,
For I am involved in mankind.
Therefore, send not to know
For whom the bell tolls,
It tolls for thee. 

We don't have the luxury of ignoring what is happening to other people "far away", because their lives are tied up in ours. They need us, and we need them.

A Jaunt Down Memory Lane

I was going through my documents folder on my computer this afternoon when I realized it was a little messy. As I started to tidy it up, I opened a few folders I haven't looked through in years, the ones containing all my papers from high school and my first few years of college. I started opening them and reading them, and boy, what a hoot! I have a pathological need to take myself hyperseriously, and it shows. But anyway. I opened and read one particular essay I wrote for my favorite English professor of all time, the amazing Dr. Bradshaw, during my very first semester of college. I don't remember exactly the assignment; something about narrating a small, seemingly insignificant moment. I wrote mine about the moment it really, truly hit me that I was graduating from high school. Now, seven years later, having just barely graduated from college (but having yet to have that same moment of realization about graduating from college), I thought that it was a timely piece of writing to pull out and dust off.

* * * * *

Photo from the Fuller Partners' website, here.

It was a trip I'd taken a thousand times before.

The car windows were rolled all the way down, and my arm was draped over the side of the door, weaving in and out of the stream of air that rushed past. Sweaty hair, pulled back into a messy ponytail, whipped back and forth with every gust, leaving stinging trails across my cheeks. Outside, the sun shone fiercely in its slow, daily trek to the west. The azure sky burned a brilliant blue. A few wispy clouds hung determinedly to the horizon, but the vault of heaven remained clear of any friendly clouds that might wander across the path of the sun and cloak its blazing wrath. Denied their rightful place high above our heads, they had settled for sending their moisture to saturate the still air down below, smothering us in what felt like a hot, wet blanket.

The radio blared yet another song about a guy and a girl falling in love, or maybe falling out of love; it was hard to be sure. Beside me in the front seat, my sister sat looking out at the familiar trees and houses flashing past her open window. She pulled absently at the clammy tee-shirt that clung to her. “How do you think practice went?” she asked over the sound of the radio and the rushing air.

“Oh, I don’t know,” I replied, shrugging. “I think we made some improvements, definitely. T-man seemed happy with what we got done.” I, too, pulled at the tee-shirt clinging to my sticky, sweaty skin. A bead of moisture escaped my hairline and rolled down my cheek; another traced a leisurely line down my neck. “Considering that it’s about fifty million degrees outside, he should be happy we didn’t all collapse and die of heat exhaustion.”

She nodded. “I think things are finally coming together. There are still a lot of rough edges, but I think we’ll do well on Saturday.”

I glanced at her briefly before turning my eyes back to the road. “Yeah, me too.” 

* * *

We traveled down the same road, the two of us, this time going in the other direction. Not much had changed, if anything at all. The placement of the cars in the driveways, maybe.

This time, the windows remained up, so as not to muss meticulously arranged hair, or displace carefully chosen clothes. Instead, the air conditioner quietly blew chilled air across our faces and ruffled the filmy fabrics of our best black pants. I curled my feet in my high heeled shoes; the cool air was making my bare toes cold.

My sister flipped down the passenger-side visor, peered intently at the mirror attached to the back of it. She looked down quickly and rummaged through the contents of the bag perched precariously on the seat next to her. “Where is it, where is it…stupid mascara,” she muttered.

I glanced over, amused. A little foundation and eyeshadow was all that was involved in my toilette. “You were supposed to do all that before we left.”

She waved a hand at me absently, and continued digging. “Yeah, but I didn’t get to put my…ah hah! I found it!” She held it up triumphantly. “I didn’t have time to put any mascara on before we left, I had to eat.” Her mouth open and eyes wide in concentration, she carefully brushed the black goop onto her eyelashes. She finished and thrust the wand back into its tube. “I wish we could wear lipstick,” she complained. “Makeup just doesn’t look right when you can’t do your mouth.”

“Come on,” I said. “You know that’s not practical. You can’t wear lipstick because if you did, your horn would slide all over the place and you couldn’t play. And it’d get all in your horn and would be the devil to clean.”

“I know,” she sighed. “But still, it would be nice to wear it just once.”

* * *

The same trees and houses and cars I had seen countless times slid silently past the window of the car. In four years, nothing significant had changed.

I squirmed uncomfortably in my seat in the back of the car, tugging at my skirt, trying to pull it down over my knees. The scratchy wool resisted my efforts, stubbornly riding up again. Skirts, I thought darkly, are not my thing. I sighed and shook my head a little, blowing a few loose strands of hair out of my eyes. Despite the care I’d taken to pin it back, my hair was just as stubborn as my skirt in the matter of staying where I wanted it.

A hand involuntarily rose to scrub at my eyes, but stopped just short of actually touching them. Nuh uh, I thought sternly at myself. No touching. Don’t smear mascara and eyeshadow all over your face.

Mom and Dad chatted amiably in the front seat, occasionally directing a comment to the backseat and my sister or me. I was reaching for my chapstick when it hit me.

“I’m not wearing any lipstick,” I said blankly. “I’m not wearing lip gloss, either.”

Mom looked back at me, confused. “So?”

“So,” I said, “so…I can wear lipstick. I don’t have to play tonight. I’m not in the band anymore, so it doesn’t matter. I’m not wearing any lipstick,” I repeated dazedly.

My sister stared at me, then said slowly, “You’re right. You’re not in band anymore. You’re graduating…”

You’re not in band anymore.

The words echoed silently through my head. I’m not in high school anymore, I thought, sitting back numbly. I’m graduating.

A Letter to My Grandfather

Dear Grandpa,

I've thought about writing this letter a hundred times, but I never was ready to put it all on paper. (Well, metaphorically speaking.) It's hard for me to believe that this time a year ago I was saying goodbye to you for the very last time in this life.

A whole year. 365 days -- 366, actually, since this year was a leap year (Aunt Catherine had a birthday this year!); a whole lot of hours and minutes and seconds have passed since then. I'm not particularly prone to attaching a lot of sentiment to the anniversaries of things, but a year seems like a significant amount of time.

When you died, it was hard for me to believe that you were really gone, at first. No one close to me had ever died before; it was my first time really experiencing death. It was harder because I never really got to say goodbye, not really. The last time I really saw you was General Conference weekend, when Grandma invited Aunt Suzanne and her family and me and Stephen over for a post-conference dinner of store-bought muffins and apple juice. We sat around the table and laughed so hard our stomachs ached when Heather told us the story about that kid who was determined to catch the feral sheep. I know I must have said, "Goodbye!" and "I love you!" when I left, because I always do, but I don't remember. I probably even gave you a hug; you're a great hugger. I think you passed that on to Dad, he always squeezes me just the way you used to. So many times in the last year I've thought about how great it would be if I could just hop in my car and drive down the street and ask for a hug on days when I was feeling down, or discouraged, or just lonely. For the first few days and weeks I had to consciously remind myself that you weren't there at the house with Grandma anymore, and each time I did it brought a wave of sadness crashing right back over me.

I was so angry at you. I still am, a little. It's so stupid, and it seems so pointless. It was your own stubborn fault for not taking better care of yourself, for not going to the doctor right away when you started feeling a little "off". You left Grandma all alone barely four months before the family reunion to celebrate your 50th wedding anniversary that Grandma had been planning for over a year. You left before my dad got to see you again, and I know how much that hurts him. You left right as I was starting to wonder about what I was going to do when I graduated in a year, right when I really needed all your years of wisdom from working at the university and your priesthood blessings and your hugs and teasing jokes.

I don't doubt the Lord called you back to Him. I was angry at Him, too, even, which is much more befitting a child than a supposedly-mature adult. I just didn't understand why then, of all times. But then why does anything happen when it does? I suppose that's why I'm not in charge and He is.

If I've learned anything from this, it's that there truly must be an afterlife for the souls of men, and that they are not wholly ignorant of us here. I know you'll be there when I get my diploma, and when I get married, and when I see my children for the first time. And I know you'll be standing there with my dad when my children's father (whoever he is -- maybe you can give him a nudge in my direction for me) gives them a name and a blessing, and you'll laugh at me the first time I say something to my child I swore I'd never say because I hated hearing it from my parents (probably something about "privileges" or "consequences"). I know you'll be there when my dad holds his little grandkids on his lap to tell them a Bob and Steve story; he's a little rusty, you might have to prompt him. And I know that one day I'll get to see you again, and best of all, get a great big, squeezy grandpa hug.

I'm counting on that.

Love,
AnnMarie

Home Again, Home Again, Jiggity Jig

This was me, 25 Christmases ago.

I'm hoooooooome!

Not jiggity jig, though. Stephen and I left Logan Saturday morning (after pulling a late night doing laundry, packing, and cleaning) with my cousin and his wife. We stayed the weekend at my aunt and uncle's house and had a fun time visiting with the cousins we don't get to see as often. I also got to go to church with my trainer - she goes to the Korean magnet ward in SLC, and so we went to Sunday School in Korean. I was thrilled to realize that I could follow the lesson on the book of Revelation; there were only about twelve words that I didn't know. Radically different from when I used to go to church in Korean, whew! My mission president and his wife only live about a half-mile from my aunt and uncle, so I was able to go over there Sunday evening and have a nice chat with them, too. All in all, a good weekend.

Monday morning we woke up long before the crack of dawn to go to the airport and catch our 7:10am flight. Everything went smoothly until we were on the approach to Albuquerque, New Mexico, where our flight was scheduled to land before we got off in Houston to catch our flight to Nashville. We made the approach, but weren't able to land because visibility was so bad. They rerouted us into El Paso, where they had us switch planes to a flight going from El Paso to Nashville, while our first flight flew back to Albuquerque. Thankfully, that meant that we didn't have a layover and landed in Nashville only a half-hour later than we were originally scheduled to land. On the downside...we had no layover and landed a half-hour later than we were originally scheduled to land. Which meant that all we had to eat between 5am and 3pm was juice and peanuts. Suffice it to say, we were very, very hungry.

The worst part of getting home is never flying, though. It's the three-hour drive home after we've already been on the plane for six hours. By that time you're just impatient and tired of sitting, plus, let's face it: driving the highway in the dark in Tennessee is not the most interesting thing to do. Thankfully, though, Heidi came to pick us up, so the company and the conversation was good. And of course, actually getting home and having all your little siblings run out of the house screaming your name with joy and launching themselves into your arms more than makes up for not eating for ten hours.

It's good to be home.

Gone

My family left this morning.



I miss them already. ~sigh~

News Bites

The irony of it snowing on the first day of spring break is not lost on me.

Really, I have nothing much to do for spring break. Lots of homework and papers I could do, and I do have tentative plans that include catching up on a lot of reading, but nothing really relaxing or fun. Well, sleeping in in the morning and not having to wake up to an alarm every morning. And my cousin's wedding is Wednesday, which should be a good time to get to see members of the extended family I haven't seen yet, including my other cousin's husband. And my other cousin's wife and daughter. And then on Saturday there's another family get together, this time for a younger cousin's baptism. She came over with her family last night and she adores me. I'm now her new favorite person, except she thinks I'm lame for not having Justin Bieber or Selena Gomez or Miley Cyrus on my iPod. She's eight, by the way.

There's really not much to say about life right now. Other than I just ordered a straightening iron for my hair (a good one). I figured it's time to grow up and learn how to do something with my hair, as much as I don't like the thought of that. But now that I have bangs, it's pretty frustrating not to have one, since they always curl up and out in the most annoying an unflattering fashion.