Daddy's Girl

Growing up, I was most decidedly a Daddy's Girl. No questions about it. My dad had me convinced that I was a princess, because to him, I really was. We went on special trips together (mostly because I was the only child that wasn't in school yet), he patiently went through my 'drive-thru' repeatedly (because I was convinced that the exercise bike in my parents' bedroom looked like a drive-thru window), and he held my hand on walks.

My dad has been a constant source of support for everything I have ever tried to do. When I (finally) learned how to ride a bike, he went with me down to the church parking lot and just sat and watched as I practiced for hours at a time. He taught me to fish. He taught me to love the mountains. He taught me how to treat my mom well (which took me a long time to learn, unfortunately. Sorry, Mom!)

But those aren't the lessons that I cherish most.

When my dad and I would go on our trips together, it was usually to Tropic, the little town my dad grew up in. We would take a mountain road that wound through the trees, away from all civilization. One night, when I was probably seven or eight (and terrified of the dark), my dad pulled over to the side of the road. He told me to get out of the truck, and I felt terrified. As I climbed out, he helped me into the bed of the truck and told me to look at the sky. I don't think I have ever seen so many stars. While I don't remember the exact words he said to me, I do remember my dad telling me that seeing the stars in all their glory assured him that God was real, and that he must love us a lot for creating something so beautiful. Knowing that my dad, the smartest man I know, knew that God was real helped me to learn it, too.

Days before I left on my mission, my dad taught me another big life lesson. I was sitting at the kitchen table, reading a book or eating cereal (or both!), when my dad came in. He seemed serious. He sat down next to me, looked me in the eye, and said: "Lisa, if something happens to me or mom while you're gone, you need to stay on your mission. You need to know that it is part of God's plan. You need to not be angry about it." At that moment, I WAS angry! Why would he say that to me right before I was about to leave? Didn't he realize how hard it was to leave anyway?

As it turned out, something did happen. A lot of somethings, actually. Between cancer scares and open-heart surgery, there were plenty of times I wondered if it would be better for me to be home. But every time I tried to think about going home, my father's words came back to me:

"You need to stay on your mission. You need to know that it is part of God's plan. You need to not be angry about it."

I went through so many emotions as I worried about him, but anger was never one of them. 

I did stay, I do know it was God's plan, and I refused to get angry.

All because of the lessons I've been taught my entire life.

He wrote to me every week for my entire mission. He wrote about his love for my mom, feelings about his own mission, and his testimony. 

I guess you could say my dad is one of the "Greats".

Noteworthy

It seems like a cruel irony that for months and months I have had a strong desire to write something... anything! and have found myself completely incapable of doing so. So many ideas have rolled and rattled around my brain, fighting each other to come out of my fingertips. Thus far, nothing has been successful. I've tried profound. I've tried hilarious. Heck, I've even tried sappy. All have been flops. Blocked before they could even begin. All because I was forcing something that just didn't want to happen. There have been SO many noteworthy things in recent years... And I have yet to take note of any of them. Here I will take note of the most noteworthy, quite briefly:

• Served a mission in Southern California. (February 2013-August 2014)
• My first nephew, Sam, was born. (February 2013)
• Dad started dealing with some rather serious heart issues. (Oct/Nov 2013)
• My beautiful second niece, Jayne, was born. (Aug 2014)
• Returned from said mission to Southern California
• Started dating Corey Kimzey
• Engaged to Corey Kimzey
• Baby brother graduated high school
• Baby brother enrolled at the Air Force Academy (& survived Basic Training!)
• MARRIED Corey Kimzey (July 18, 2015)
• New nephew, Levi, was born. ( June 2015) 
• Moved to Logan and returned to Utah State University

I guess you could say it's been a busy time. And I have been unable to write about any of it. Why, then, am I feeling inspired tonight? It all came from a conversation with my wonderful husband:

Corey: I think it's time for a nap.

Me: I think it's time for ice cream.

Corey: (as the problem solver he is) I think it's time for ice cream AND a nap. At the same time.

Me: And how are you going to manage that?

Corey: I am going to lie on the couch and sleep with my mouth open, and I will hold my ice cream in the air so it can fall into my mouth while I am sleeping!

Me: Now that just sounds messy. And dangerous. You would choke.

Corey: But I would die happy.

And I laughed so hard I cried.

This conversation very nearly sums up what our life is like. Every day. And I love it. Life is better when you're laughing.

I'll Go Where You Want Me To Go

Sometimes, things don't turn out quite the way you expect. In fact, sometimes they become the exact opposite of what you originally intended.

Every year, there are birds that nest right underneath the shingles of the roof of my house. Mother birds are not very motherly, I've discovered. Every year, we find several dead baby birds on the sidewalk, because their mothers have pushed them out of the nest far too early. Lucky for me, I don't have parents like this. Even when I jumped out of the nest early all by myself, and barely made it back alive, they still welcome me back with open arms until I'm ready to take off again. This time with stronger wings.

Let's recap, shall we? My college-life plan in a series:
Freshman year of high school: Dixie for two years, then BYU.
Sophomore year of high school: Dixie for two years, then BYU.
Junior year of high school: Dixie for two years, then BYU.
Beginning of senior year: Dixie for two years, then BYU.
Two months before graduation: Utah State University. Wait----WHAT?! How did that just happen?!

Freshman year of college: Hey! Logan's pretty nice! This might be cool, maybe I could stay here for four years!

Driving away from Logan at the end of freshman year: Why does it feel like I'm never coming back?

Summer between freshman and sophomore year: Well, Dixie could be okay for a semester! But then I'm going back!

Month before sophomore year: Well... I guess Dixie would be okay for a whole year... Anyway, I could save money for AFRICA!!!

Three weeks into sophomore year: Okay... the Africa group jacked up the prices... Maybe I'm not going to Africa... So, instead....

ECUADOR?!

Stay tuned, ladies and gentlemen. The Lord is teaching me another lesson in flexibility. What does this mean? This means I have no idea where I'll be in eight months, let alone 3 years! But that's okay! I've decided I kind of like it that way. (All right, I don't love it. But I just said I kinda liked it. So I'm not lying.) It definitely makes life more of an adventure, I'll be honest. Isn't adventure what I'm looking for, anyway? 

So... Whether I'm in Africa, Ecuador, or Kentucky this summer, I really will be happy with it. Because at this point? I feel like I'm pretty good at figuring out where I need to be, and where I need not be. (However temporary my confidence in that decision is.)

Author's note: Kentucky is not, nor has it ever been, on my list of possible adventures. If I have jinxed myself to Kentucky-hood with this post you are allowed to laugh at me for the rest of eternity.

Luckily, I have the most supportive parents in the whole world. Seriously. Throughout this whole process they've been there giving me quiet encouragement, drying my tears of frustration, and telling me not to turn my back on things too quickly. When I first decided to go to USU, my parents were not happy. But when they found out how excited I was, they helped me out. And when I started having a hard time? They were there for me then, too. When I, their youngest daughter, told them I wanted to go to Africa for a few months on a humanitarian trip, I could tell that they thought (and desperately hoped!) that I would give up the idea soon enough. When they figured out how much I really wanted to go, they pretended to be excited for me, while still stressing like crazy on the inside. This week, when I cried because I figured out there would be no way for me to raise all the money for the much more costly Africa trip? They told me not to give up. "Don't turn your back on it yet. And keep looking for other things. You'll find something." With parents like mine, I know I'll learn to fly someday. I'm just a slow learner.

Auntie.

Kathryn Fae Denton

February 24, 2012

I'm an auntie now. 

It's the greatest thing of my whole life. Even better than hamburgers. And the new Ben & Jerry's flavor. 

My dad makes a cute grandpapa, yes? I think so. :-)

And my sister is stunning as "Mommy".

I'll be honest, we all dote on little Kate. How could we not?!

I am so excited to be Kate's aunt. I probably won't be the favorite aunt...

...But that doesn't mean I'm going to stop trying to be, anyway. ;-)

And Thus it Begins...

Snow.

I'll be honest. I've never really experienced it. When it comes to the cold, I'm a complete wuss. Seriously. But it's coming, anyway. First snowfall was this weekend. It's mostly melted now, but still. It's on it's way...

Am I ready? Not even close. To quote my dear roommate talking about the cold: "Lisa, we're going to die. You're going to die first, but still. We're going to die."

Oh, well. Might as well have fun in the process.

The Future's Looking Good...

I just spent over an hour watching this video. Wow. I found myself cheering for these studly brothers as they made their way through ten years of life. Yeah. It was crazy stuff. You should watch it.


While watching the video, I realized something as I watched one brother return home from his mission and hug his mom: One day, not only do I get to serve a mission, but I get to be the mother of missionaries. Isn't that the coolest thing you've ever heard? I get to be the first person they want to hug when they get off that plane. Strange to think about... But such an amazing feeling.

Because... I'm feeling inspired.

I've already mentioned this, but I am now a huge fan of justlittlethings.net. Seriously. For the past week, I've been trying to notice the things that make me smile every time. Maybe the thought of some will make you smile, too:
1.Walking outside and feeling the first raindrop fall on your head.
2. When a random stranger smiles back.
3. Sticky notes.
4. Hamburgers.
5. Finally figuring out a tricky harmony line.
6. Harmonizing.
7. Christmas count-down chains in October.
8. The prospect of going home.
9. People that open the door for others.
10. Clean socks.
11. Letter/emails from missionaries.
12. Having a good friend tell you he's put his papers in/started said papers/gotten his call.
13.Getting stuck in traffic on an already long car ride and having it be okay because you really can talk to the person you're with for eight hours straight.
14. People you really can talk to for eight hours straight, and then another six hours three days later.
15. Hot chocolate on a beautiful fall day after freezing your butt off outside.
16. Cleaning out pumpkins.
17. Christmas music.
18. Nightmare Before Christmas music.
19. Just good music.
20. Crunching leaves.
21. Free food.
22. Random acts of gentle-manliness.
23. Spinning hugs.
24. Doing dishes with a friend.
25. Helping someone smile. :-)
26. Having pictures of people you love smiling at you in your room.

What makes you happy? How often do you think about it? It's been interesting actively thinking about what it is that causes my smile...

New obsession? Not quite.... But close...

Thanks to my beautiful friend McKann, I have now been introduced to this magnificent website. It completely made my day, and I'm sure that it will continue to do so in the future. Take a look. I know you want to. :-)

On another note, I'm missing my brothers quite a bit today. (I also miss my sisters, of course, but I'm used to that.) Who would have thought, right?! David's all grown up now (seriously, we're basically the same height) and running all over the place (literally. He's a cross-country runner.), and Steve is off traveling the world (again, literally. He lives in New Zealand now.). How did this happen? One year ago, we were all living at home, driving each other nuts. Heck, less than a year ago this was happening!

Reasons (more like conversations) why I miss my brothers:
Scenario 1:
April Fools' Day. This year. David yawns.
Me: "Dave, why are you so tired?"
Dave: "Well, last night I needed to put up all of my traps, so I set my alarm for three in the morning, put on all black clothing and my night-vision goggles, and went through the house humming the mission-impossible theme. Now I'm kind of sleepy."
Yes. He really does do things like that. I love him.

Scenario 2:
My parents and Dave are out of town for a few days, the house is being remodeled by random people, and Steve's been gone all day, leaving me alone (without a car) with the strange remodelers. Finally, Steve gets home. I take the keys from him.
Me: "All right, see you in a couple of hours!"
Steve: (Sad look) "What?! I just got home! Why can't we watch a movie or something? Or get some food?!"
Yes. Sometimes, he really did want to spend time with me. I love when he does that.

Strange how you miss things you never thought you'd really miss, right? I even miss getting caught in the cross-fire of Nerf battles and Airsoft wars. Sure, it could be painfully loud and obnoxious, but it was home.

A picture of the three of us on my birthday this year. They were probably fighting over who got to light the candles for a few minutes before mutually agreeing that I got to do it myself because it was my birthday before this picture was taken.

Enjoy it while it's here, the snow's just around the corner...

I love this time of year. It just makes me smile. A lot. Today, I ended up walking about seven miles to and from campus, crunching leaves and singing all the way. It was wonderful. The Logan cemetery and the mountains  that surround me are changing all sorts of brilliant colors. A few weeks ago, I was talking to my older sister as we were enjoying an early autumn up on the mountain of Brianhead. I mentioned that fall and spring are pretty well tied in my heart for the most beautiful times of the year. She thought for a second, and then said: "Isn't that amazing? Birth and death. They're the most beautiful. In Christ's life, His birth and His death were the most beautiful. They represent the two greatest things ever done for us. Isn't Heavenly Father wonderful for giving us a reminder of those every year?" (Her answer was much more eloquent and brilliant, but I sort of got the gist.) It made me think. And it made me love fall even more. :-)

I've been looking up pictures of autumn on the internet today:

All right. This has to be one of the most beautiful things I've ever seen. can I just walk down that dirt road forever?

Isn't it just magical? I feel like it's a bridge to some incredible place... It also reminds me very much of the Sacred Grove, which is, indeed, an incredible place.

While there are very few pictures of the adventures I've had with my father, This picture reminds me very much of a drive he took me on last year. On our way up the mountain, he took a turn on a dirt road and we took the spectacularly scenic route. It looked very much like this.

I'll bet Boulder Mountain looks like this in the fall. Sadly, I've never been there this time of year. Though I'd very much like to. Maybe someday!

Can you imagine just curling up under that tree with a good book?! I know I can. Mmmm...

Only in my dreams...

Because.... Friends are just great.

For me, this past month has been an emotional roller-coaster. I've laughed, I've cried, laughed so hard I cried. I've felt hyper, lethargic, energetic, lazy. I've felt faithless and hopeless, ecstatic and ambitious. Like a slob, like a neat-freak. Lonely, claustrophobic. Pretty much the emotional spectrum.

A few weeks ago, I decided to go to a hockey game. Not a big deal, right? Well, the people I was with were a little different from the people I normally spend time with. Don't get me wrong, different isn't a bad thing. But sometimes, it's really not my favorite. The ladies I was with had a tendency to swear---a lot. Luckily, the two that swore the most were sitting in front of me. At least, I thought it was lucky. Sitting in front of them were two other women. These women were from the opposing team, a mother and a sister of the opposing goalie. Long story short, these women ended up being offended by the language of the women sitting behind them. Both sets of women ended up screaming at each other, some with poor language, all with poor judgement. In the end, the mother of the hockey player ended up attacking one of the girls in front of me. I don't think I have ever been in a situation that made me feel so ill. In two minutes, these women helped me to lose faith in the goodness of people, and in true kindness.

All I knew for sure is that I had to get out of there. I didn't care if I had to walk home, I just needed to leave. In my somewhat hysteric state, I texted a friend from home that also lives up here, asking if there was any way she could come and pick me up. She replied instantly, telling me that another friend from home was driving. I can't even begin to express the relief I felt. As I waited outside the ice rink, I began to feel less relieved, and more... nervous. My old friends, they've found their place up here. I didn't want to mess with that. The minutes that I was waiting for them were hardly any better than those spent in the ice rink itself... I don't think I've ever felt so unsure about asking a favor. My anxiety continued to grow in the three short minutes it took them to get there. I didn't know what to think when they came, I just knew I was a burden.

As soon as they pulled up, they rolled down the windows and called to me. The looks on their faces were not of annoyance, or condescension. The only things I saw in their faces were love and true caring. There was no "How the heck did you get into this situation?" or "Now, thanks to you, we're missing time with our new friends." as I got into the car. They could tell by my face that I was in no mood to talk about what had just happened. Sitting in the dark back seat, all the emotions I had felt within the last fifteen minutes bubbled over, and I began to cry. Quietly. I think. My concerned friends pretended to be ignorant of my emotions and just made wonderfully comfortable, clean, happy conversation. At the risk of sounding completely cheesy, the warm feeling that bubbled up inside of me was undeniable. My tears flowed in earnest at this point, more from happiness and relief than anything, though. I could see the friend driving periodically checking on me in the rear-view mirror. When we got near my street, he stole one more glance and said "I think it's time for a walk."

As I walked to the nearby elementary school with two of my best friends in the whole world, I felt a peace that I hadn't in quite a while. They single-handedly brought back my good attitude about people in general. Playing around on an elementary school playground with these wonderful people helped me in a way nothing else could.

My friends stayed with me until they knew I was feeling better. Then, they walked me home. Simple, but so important. Don't underestimate what you do.

And So It Begins...

Well, I've taken the plunge. I no longer live at home. Instead, I live with four girls that before a few days ago, I had never even met. But I love them. They are wonderful. I don't think I could have been more blessed when it comes to roommates. Seriously.

The Roomies with Zorn the Zucchini.

Ice skating with the Institute...

The past few days have been a little bit strange, to be honest. But that's expected, right? I'm not quite homesick, yet... I still feel like I'm at EFY or something. (My mother's doing. She kept telling herself that before I left, and it sunk into my brain.) I do miss my family. But I know I'll be visiting them many, many times throughout the rest of my college experience (and, you know, the rest of my life). The only time I've shed tears is when reading this post by one of my incredible young women's leaders from home. I was re-reading it, actually. This is something that I'm never going to have again. I miss my leaders. I miss my girls. I know I'll grow to love Relief Society just as much or more, but I think I'll still miss it. Just a little bit.

But life is so grand! I love my little apartment. It's really quite fabulous. There are even purple doors! It's great! Monday night, the roomies and I had family dinner while watching a movie. It was wonderful. Then we went to FHE and an Imagine Dragons concert on campus. I'll be honest, I've never been much of a concert or party goer. But I did have fun. Lots of it.

After a week of classes, and seeing what's in store for me, I have one thing to say: I'm glad I learned how to read before I got up here. Apparently I'm going to need that skill. Who knew?

I feel like I'm in this major transition point in my life. I can't decide if I love it or hate it, yet. I'm trying to lean more towards the love side, because I'm planning on enjoying the next few years of my life very much. After all, isn't how I feel about it up to me?

I Will Not Be Still

Last week, I went to the baptism of a friend of mine. She is eight years old, and quite possibly the funniest person I have ever met in my life. Before this experience, I hadn't been to a "live" baptism in years. It was such an amazing experience. I don't think I've ever been so excited for someone else. My face was seriously about to split from the huge smile that wouldn't go away. Right before her dad baptized her, he came up to her older brother (who was sitting next to me at the time) and asked him if he wanted to come be a witness. The look on my dear friend's face as he walked up to witness his baby sister's baptism was so priceless... Watching a family have this experience, it was amazing! It got me so fired up!

More and more of my dear friends (and some that aren't quite so dear) have been receiving their mission calls, becoming elders, and submitting their papers. I'm feeling a little bit of mission-envy. But it's all right! I can definitely wait three more years. Less than that, now, actually! Every time I see one of  "my boys" preparing for or leaving for a mission, it makes me happier than almost anything else. I honestly am having a hard time containing my excitement for them. One of my best friends is submitting his papers next week... I went to the temple with said friend this week, and I felt a huge surge of joy as he was talking about it. He just became an elder, and he's even more excited about it than I am. (Which is saying a lot!)

There's this song that I rediscovered on an old EFY cd this week. It's been getting under my skin. I love this gospel. It makes me happy. Doesn't that mean I'm supposed to share it? It doesn't matter if I can't express my thoughts well. He'll help me out, if I try!

I've never been the kind to testify,
I don't have the words his truth deserves.
But it's a simple thing he asks:
A worthy heart and willing hands.
He says if I'll make the choice,
He'll help me find my voice.

He calls me to serve and I cannot fail him,
The one who has given me all that I have.
I place my trust in him alone,
He knows the yearnings of my soul.
Because he believes in me,
I will go willingly...

How can I keep this gift to myself
When I can lift somebody else?
I am a witness of his miracles and his mercy
I put my future in his hands
Knowing he's made me all I am
When I put my faith in him, the truth begins to
speak
His power is real; it moves me until I will not be
still

Lifting the hands that hang down in sorrow
Strengthening knees that bend in despair
Reaching the hopeless hearts who do not know His love
Seeing their lives begin to change
I know I'll never be the same

How can I keep this gift to myself
When I can lift somebody else?
I'll be a witness of his miracles and his mercy
I put my future in his hands
Knowing he's made me all I am
I put my faith in him, and truth begins to
speak
His power is real; it moves me until
I will not be still.

His power is real.
I trust in his will.
I will not be still.

Sure, I'm a little jealous that my male friends get to put their papers in already. But just because I have to wait a couple of years before I go on a full-time mission, that doesn't mean I can't start sharing the news now. "How can I keep this gift to myself?" I can't.

It may be cheesy, but I really am so excited.

Why I Am the Way I Am.

This post has been in the works for a long time. It's a very important subject to me, so I've had a really hard time expressing my thoughts about it. The person I am most like in this world, the one from whom I get the majority of my personality, is my father. I don't know why I have found it so difficult to express myself on the subject of my dad, but the past couple of weeks have made me even more grateful for him. Three of the closest friends I made in Europe no longer have their dads here to hug and talk to face-to-face... It made me think a lot. It made me miss my dad even more (and my mom).

What traits do I get from my dad? Only the best and the most difficult. And a lot in between. For instance:

-We're both incredibly stubborn. Especially when we know we're right. Like when someone's not coming to church for a stupid reason, or someone is keeping others from progressing.
-While we can both do fine being with people when needed, solitude is golden. Especially in the mountains.
-Attention is not the favorite thing in massive groups of people.
-Fishing is one of the most relaxing things in the world.
-Green. I realized on my last fishing trip with my dad that we both love the color green for the same reason. Wild grass and aspens, man. Who couldn't love green up in the mountains? (Or in Europe, we've discovered)
-70's Rock. His love for it has infected me.
-His love for the mountains, and hiking in those same mountains, has definitely been passed to me.
-Sometimes it's easier just to give up something we want rather than have to explain it to someone else. That doesn't mean we won't be disappointed when it doesn't happen.
-We both sunburn super easy. (Pretty sure we both burned when we went fishing for my 16th birthday in the rain. Do you sunburn in the rain? Probably not.)
-For being so short, we can both be rather aggressive.
-At the same time, though, we both hate confrontation.
-We both love spending time together. But we're both incredibly busy. Sometimes it takes sacrifices to spend time together. One summer, my dad watched an entire Dickens mini-series with me. (It was about 10 hours)
-As a result, we both like British movies. (Although his have more requirements than mine do.)
-We both misplace things a lot. (The difference being that he usually finds the things he's looking for eventually)
-We both hate talking on the phone.
My father is an incredible man. Sometimes, we're more alike than I'd like to be. But then I realize what an honor it is to be like him. It may make it a little bit harder to get along with each other all of the time, but the other times are what make it so worth it.

There are some traits of my dads that didn't quite make it to me, but I sure wish they had:

-His steady hands. (Being a dentist, it's pretty important for him.)
-His impression of Mrs. Bennett from the five-hour Pride & Prejudice. It's pretty brilliant.
-His impression of Hagrid from the Harry Potter books read by Jim Dale.
-His patience. (When it's necessary.)
-His ability to tell stories.
-His ability to turn every story into a spiritual one.
-His sense of direction.
-His running ability.
-His wisdom.
-His ability to cook. (i.e. baking, grilling, cooking in general)

I love my father very much. I love spending time with him. I love listening to his stories. When I was little, I used to insist that I was going to marry my dad. While my views on that have changed quite a bit, there are many things that my dad does that will be very important to me when looking for a husband, I think. (Don't worry, that will be in a very long time.) My father's influence has made me who I am.

Now I'm moving away. I'm moving to a place I've only visited once. A place my father doesn't want me to go. I think he's going to miss me. But not as much as I'm going to miss him.

There aren't loads of pictures of me and my dad on this computer. But I feel like this one pretty much explains us. He's always teaching me something. Sometimes (most of the time), he has to teach me more than once.

Thresholds.

I've been diving into a lot of firsts lately. First time staying with my sister and her husband? Check. First time leaving home for more than a week without my parents? Check. First time riding the St. George Shuttle? Check. First time talking to a complete stranger for four straight hours? Check. First time going to Europe? Pending.

I'm going to Europe. On Wednesday. For sixteen days. Is this crazy to anyone else? If not, it probably should be.

This has been one of the busier summers of my life. (I can't decide between this summer and working full time two summers ago. This one probably actually wins. I've spent much less time at home, and that's kind of how I describe busy.) This Europe trip seems to be just one more exciting thing to cross off the list. But it's more than that. It's the only thing I've done this summer that's made me nervous. Don't get me wrong, I'm incredibly excited for this adventure. I just happen to be terrified at the same time.

I keep getting lectured on not getting robbed. Apparently it's a big concern over there. I'll let you in on a little secret: I'm kind of naive. I've only ever remembered living in Utah. Utah is a wonderful place, and I love not worrying about getting robbed as I walk down the street in just my socks. Of course I'm more careful at night and such, but this is different. I'm going to a place where there are trained professionals ready to steal my stuff and feel good about it. I've been told not to be warm and friendly to everyone I see on the street. Apparently a smile means more to some people. I've been told to keep track of all my stuff at all times. I've been told to never go anywhere without someone else. I've been told to not listen to the stories of people I meet, for fear of someone else coming up to cut the strap of my purse or to steal my camera. In short, I've kind of been told to not give in to any of my natural reactions while walking the streets of Europe. It's going to be a wondrous adventure, but it's also going to be a big challenge. And I am scared.

This time next week, I will probably be walking down some street in France. Perhaps I'll be eating a pastry. Or singing in a cathedral.

I'm ready for a big adventure before really moving out. I think this just might be it.

In the words of Rafiki: "It is time."

My Top Five Signs/Reasons that it's time to grow up:
(Top Five idea stolen from the lovely Saya)

Yes, I believe in signs. Get over it.

Sign/Reason #1: My phone. I killed him. This seems like a stupid thing to put on a list of reasons to grow up, but it really fits on here for me. I've had the same phone for always. His name is Hubert. He's survived two years of Sara and three years (gasp!) of me. No other phone could have done as much. The phone has come to represent my reluctance toward change. I hate change. I know it can be good, but it just kills me. When I have a good thing going, I hate messing it up. But now, with a new phone (that may or may not look exactly like Hubert, anyway) and a fresh outlook, I'm ready to leave. To change. To move on.

Sign/Reason #2: I now sport a much, much shorter and infinitely easier-to-do haircut. It's another thing to do with change. As much as I hate having long hair, the idea of cutting it all off still kind of scares me. But I did it! I survived. And now I am going to be able to spend loads less money on shampoo, and way less time actually doing my hair. This will keep on the better side of my roommates, I think.

Sign/Reason #3: The list of my future roommates arrived this week. I am excited (and terrified) to meet them. There are seven other girls that will be living in my apartment. Seem like a lot? Yeah. But don't worry, there's a bigger chance of finding one I actually like with so many. I have all of their email addresses. I haven't used any of them yet. Would that be weird? Emailing them all out of the blue? They were all smart and have professional sounding email addresses for college. I was not so smart. Wonder what they think of me based on that? Not worth worrying about, I guess. But I am curious. :-)

Sign/Reason #4: Through various forms of good fortune (but mostly my wonderful sister), I now own a large (green!) mixing bowl, a bunch of (green!) plastic dishes, an air-pop-popcorn machine (yay!), a toaster oven, and a super shnazzy crockpot. These things, coupled with the fridge and microwave in my apartment/dorm-hybrid, will make it so I can feed myself! Hooray! Well, partially feed myself. Technically I have a meal plan. That should feed me most of the time. I hope.

Sign/Reason #5: Today (in the middle of writing this, actually), the two most influential women in my life outside of my family stopped by. They brought a gift! A beautiful framed picture of the Logan temple that says "As long as you can see the temple, you are never lost". Along with the amazing picture, they each gave a letter. Oh, boy. If they think I'm ready, then I must be ready. Their faith in me really does make all of the difference. They support my decision, and they've told me that they know I can succeed. If for no other reason, their love and support could motivate me to grow up and accomplish something. Through these wonderful ladies today, the Lord answered my prayer. I've been struggling to know if Utah State really is the right place for me. They carried the answer in the form of a picture. As they gave it to me they said "This is your new temple." I'm going to know that temple well. The Lord's looking out for me. I can do this.

Not only am I ready for this next step in my life, but I'm excited. And terrified. And anxious. And ecstatic. And petrified. But ready.

Are you positive that molehill's not a mountain? It looks pretty big to me...

It should not come as a surprise to anyone in the continental United States, Canada, New Zealand, or Argentina when I say that I am a dramatic person. I overreact to things. It's a problem that I have. That being said, these have been some pretty big weeks in the life. Seriously. The beginning of the end. Or is it the end of the beginning? I never can tell which...

May 25 was graduation. Yippee. It doesn't feel real to me yet. Not at all. It felt like I was playing dress-up all day. But it was real. It happened. I'm done. That seemingly-huge chapter of my life? Yeah, it's over. What now? What do I do? 

Somewhere during that week I had a birthday. A pretty big one. Remember when 18 was so old? When my friends started turning 18 in September, I was pretty freaked out. Now it's me. Scary. I've found that when it comes to my birthday, I have to not think about it as a special day. I was talking to my sister about this last week (on her birthday). We're both the same when it comes to birthdays. If we expect anything special from it, anything at all, we end up getting cranky and upset.  This is why I don't understand how some people think that being selfish is what's going to make them happy. It's just miserable! Granted, I can be super selfish. But whenever I am, I just feel crappy. What's the point?

I apologize for rambling. I'm just freaking out that now I'm a "big girl". At least, that's what they say. I'm not so sure I believe that yet... One of my favorite people in the world has a blog titled "Looking for my big girl pants". She is in her thirties and a mother of five. This makes me a lot less worried, actually. If she still hasn't found her big girl pants yet, and she gets to be that amazing, then I have a chance at being okay, too.

I'm not the prettiest, or the smartest, the most talented, or the funniest. Goodness knows I'm not the kindest. But I am me. And you know what? I am perfectly okay with that.  So, World? I'm coming now. You might want to get ready.

Because We're Cool.

Women are awesome. We all know it's true. Mothers, especially, are amazing. My mom is the best of them all, no lies.

My mom is the most amazing person I know. Why? Well... Where do I begin?

• She rides the unicycle.
• She makes really good soup.
• She's the funniest lady I know. Seriously.
• I can talk to her about anything.
• She has the most amazingly strong testimony you'll ever hear.
• She's only 5'3".
• She likes to make cookies whenever it's cold and windy outside.
• She likes to make cookies whenever it's not cold and windy outside.
• She comes down to my room at two in the morning when thunder wakes her up to make sure I'm awake so I can play in the rain for a little while.
• She can skateboard.
• She has the prettiest blue eyes in the world.
• She almost always wears a sweater.
• She gives the best hugs ever.
• She always gets the same flavor of ice cream from Baskin Robbins. Always
• She doesn't make fun of me for being a picky eater.
• She knows how to fix everything.
• She doesn't want me to go away for college.
• She's letting me go away for college, even though she doesn't want me to.
• She loves going on walks. (I think I get this from her. Just maybe.)
• She can text faster than I can, nearly.
• She still goes on road-trips with her friends.
• She teaches math because she loves it, not because she has to.
• She loves math.
• She once read a book called Zero: The Biography of a Dangerous Idea.
• She read it more than once.
• When we listen to Harry Potter CDs on the way to California, she helps me think of more excuses to ride in the car so we can listen.
• She spoils me when I'm sick.
• She trusts me to run errands for her.
• She was too nervous to take me driving for the first time.
• She let one of our best friends take me, instead.
• She loves to laugh.
• She plays the piano for me when I ask her to.
• She's not fragile.
• She's really the only person in the world I feel comfortable crying in front of.
• She is a terrible liar.
• She stinks at Murderer in the Dark. (See above fact)
• Sometimes we go get ice cream and watch movies together. Just for fun.
• She's interested in my life, genuinely.
• Sometimes she zones out pretty bad.
• She sometimes forgets that her sunglasses are on top of her head.
• She has a pair of sunglasses with two different-colored lenses.
• She hates that she has to wear reading glasses now.
  
• She calls them "Old Lady Glasses"
  
• She is the single most loving and sweet person I know. (Nobody's really sure how the kids in my family happened.)
• I am only forcing myself to stop typing this list because it's getting a little bit on the long side. I really could go on forever.

We just had Mothers' Day. The fact that there's a special day for it just proves that we're not as grateful as we should be. Sometimes we just forget. I'm so glad for Mothers' Day. I'm even more glad for my own mother.

This year, I've been thinking about mothers in general. They do so very much. To be a mother, you have to be pretty much an expert in nearly every occupation out there. Mothers are doctors, artists, chefs, taxi drivers, coaches, therapists, comedians, maids, wardens, singers, teachers, and the list goes on and on. And on.

I'm going to be a mom someday. I'm even excited to be a mom someday. (Granted, "someday" is a very, very long time from now.) I am so blessed to be a woman. A true daughter of God. Think about it: Someday, I get to count myself as one of the moms. Last week, I was taught a little bit more about motherhood. The women teaching me told me this: "There is nobody in the world more loved than a mom." Someday I will be loved more than anyone in the world.

Both of my older sisters are now married. Neither have any kids yet. That's all right, though. Trust me, they're the type of women that are worth the wait. The fresh spirits that get my sisters as moms? Wow. They're lucky. Almost as lucky as I am.

Lindsay's kids are going to be absolutely beautiful. They're also going to be crazy smart. And musical. You know, pretty much the kids that everyone loves and hates at the same time because they're so jealous. They're going to be the most awkward dancers in the world. Heck, they'll probably even be tall and skinny. She'll have at least one daughter that's as sassy as she is.

Sara's kids won't be nearly as tall as Lindsay's, but they'll all probably dwarf their mom. They're going to be an interesting mixture of spontaneous and logical. Creative and nerdy. Arts and science. Outgoing and shy. And they'll be absolute cuties, loved everywhere they go.

Both of my sisters will have kids that absolutely adore them. I mean, how could they not? I know I do.

We should be honoring our mothers every day. But not only that, we should be honoring the future mothers, too. A woman should be respected. A woman should be loved. A woman has the chance to one day be a mother, and she should be treated that way. She should be treated in such a way that will make her yearn to be a good mother, to spread her own light. Women were given the responsibility, the privilege, and the complete trust needed to be mothers. Never forget that.

On every side, women are attacked every day. Physically, emotionally, spiritually, verbally, intellectually. In every way possible, Satan is trying to make women weak. Lucky for the world, women are tougher than Satan. We can handle it.