A Good Time vs. A Good Story

I'm not sure why, but for some reason, everyone I know seems to think it is their duty to set me up on blind dates. Perhaps they don't think I'm capable of finding my own dates, maybe they truly believe the set up and I will really hit it off, or it might be that it's what I like to refer to as a 'favor date.' Whatever the reason, the mutual friend always seems to talk me into going, despite the fact that 90% of blind dates I've been on have been disastrous. I've decided however, that one of two things will happen on these blind dates: I'll either have a good time or I'll have a great story to tell. I've adopted a new theory when it comes to blind dates, a game of sorts, to see how good of a story I can get out of it. Fortunately, my most recent blind date was unable to top this one that occurred in early May of this year, and it remains the best story that I've come out of a blind date with:

I should have known it would have been a disaster when the mutual friend asked me to go on a date with this guy simply to show him that "there are nice, cute girls out there." This is what I like to call a favor date: the mutual friend knows that nothing will come of it and the date is occurring purely because the other end needs a little practice interacting with the opposite gender. Because I have a hard time saying no to people, I agreed to go. Mistake #1.

So, Irwin (names have been changed) came and picked me up one spring night. We drove 30 minutes to a restaurant, at which we had to wait one hour to be seated. Five minutes into the drive it was confirmed that Irwin and I were not soul mates, which made the hour long wait seem dreadfully long, especially because it was with someone I knew I would never see again after that night. When finally the hostess called our name and ushered us to our table, I was relieved that I now had a menu to act interested in rather than awkwardly try to make conversation with Irwin. Our food finally came, and I jumped right into my chicken enchilada. I had eaten less than half of my meal and was still going strong when Irwin looked at me and said in an appalled tone, "Wow, you sure know how to eat." Really? It's a good thing I'm not insecure about my weight or that bold statement could have caused some serious damage. Sorry Irwin, if you're looking for one of those anorexic-type, you've got the wrong girl...I've got an appetite that requires more than half an enchilada to provide satisfaction. Needless to say, it caught me a little off guard. I wasn't quite sure how to respond: "Yes, I've been doing it for 19 years now, I suppose you could call me an expert" or something more along the lines of "Thank you, I take great pride in my ability to chew and digest food"? By this point in the date I was far from wanting to impress poor Irwin and so instead of a dignified response I settled on saying, "Yes, I sure do" while shoving a forkful of chicken enchilada the size of a small child into my mouth. And I continued on to devour the entire enchilada, putting Irwin and his wimpy fajitas to shame. By the time we got to the sporting event that we had tickets for, I had no desire whatsoever to carry on a conversation with him, and instead acted as if I was an avid fan of the sport and emotionally involved in the game we were attending. Needless to say, neither Irwin or I had an enjoyable time and a second date was out of the question.

Every time I go on a blind date I secretly hope that something will happen to top my experience with Irwin, when I was told I eat a lot. Everyone knows that two stories are better than one. However, I suppose having a good time is better than having a good story to tell.

best day of the year

"Write it on your heart that each day is the best day of the year"

-Ralph Waldo Emerson

Yesterday as I was sitting in Sacrament meeting I glanced over at my roommate's notebook and saw those words written in bold, black letters. I loved it and immediately pulled out my pink sticky notes and a pen and scribbled it down so that I would never forget it. Sometimes it's making that small decision every morning as you roll out of bed that 'today is going to be the best day of the year' that makes the difference between a mediocre day and an exceptional day. Here's to having each day be the best day of the year.

I Hear Jerusalem Bells A Ringing

The past couple of weeks I've been in a little bit of a funk. I've been unsure with where my life was heading and what I would be doing for the next several months. There is nothing more frustrating than having a plan for your life up in the air, just playing the waiting game. For the past week I've been on the verge of tears all day, every day and I've had more than just one good cry over wondering if my plan for my life is in line with the Lord's plan for my life. This morning at approximately 9:08 I found out that at least for now, the two plans are very much in line with each other. Today an envelope arrived in the mail informing me that I had been accepted into the BYU Jerusalem Center to study abroad winter semester 2010! I have been anticipating this letter for over a month now and it was such a relief to finally get an answer. And oh so exciting that the answer was the one I had been hoping and praying for all this time. I've had my heart set on studying abroad in Jerusalem for so long and come January, I'm moving to Israel to study in the Holy Land. I'll be able to walk where the Savior walked, visit the most sacred places in the world and have more life changing experiences than I can even imagine right now. I haven't been able to wipe the smile off my face since I heard the good news and I couldn't be happier than I am right now. Today, I came out of my funk. Things are good now.

Thank Heavens for Cleaning Checks

An apartment of 4 girls (plus one roommates boyfriend, who much to my dismay, seems to live on our couch) can produce some pretty revolting sights. Thank heavens for monthly cleaning checks that force us to clean up and put the apartment back together again. Some of my favorites that we found this time around were:

1. A rice cooker with dried up, week-old rice still in it.
2. Dishes piled so high that I couldn't even turn on the faucet to fill a glass of water.
3. 8,000 otter pop wrappers.
4. The bathroom garbage can overflowing with feminine products.
5. And the winner goes to....A pile of fingernail clippings on the armchair (not mine)

It is so nauseating that we finally resorted to placing sticky notes around the kitchen identifying things such as "DIRTY...Fill me up" on the dishwasher and "Girls...no more piling dishes in the sink, it's getting nasty!" above the kitchen sink. Hopefully they serve their purpose and next months cleaning checks wont be quite so monumental.