A little love story... Part 5

Okay, it's time to get through this story. I might have to start scrimping on details.

One last story from February. I can't believe I forgot! A few weeks after our first date I was getting anxious for a second date, and three weeks later, Pete asked me out for date #2. I was excited and just as flustered as I had been for date #1 (which is just silly because in between we saw each other pretty much every day).

I drove up to Salt Lake and visited my friend, Vick, who is an East Coast diva and ensemble assembler extraordinaire (she has really awesome style). Together we raided her closet- I have never tried on so many clothes in my life! I left a few hours later with three different outfits (A girl's got to have options!). An hour or so before Pete was going to pick me up, I got all primped and had the roomies vote on which outfit I should wear. When the perfect ensemble was selected, tucked and smoothed in just the right way, Patrick texted me, "Oh! We're going to be out in the snow, so wear your snow pants." WHAT? Welp, off with the designer threads and on with the uglies! (You must know, this is what I now love about Patrick. He loves a grubby girl. The other day I introduced Patrick to my friend's sister who is fabulously shiny, glossed, stiletto-ed and *ahem* enhanced in areas, and he turned and whispered to me "Thank you for not dressing like that". You are most welcome. :)

I was a puffy marshmallow in all my snow gear when Pat arrived to pick me up, and off we went into the unknown (he knows I love a secret). Soon we were up at the top of South Fork in Provo Canyon. Pat strapped on a giant backpack, we laced up our snowshoes, and further up the mountain we went. I tried to carry on a nice conversation without gasping for air as we made our way up, up and up. For those of you who have never been, snowshoeing is like walking times 15... if you want to put it in mathematical terms. I was so happy when Pat finally stopped in the middle of a large meadow and said, "This looks like a good spot!" Agreed, sir.

As he unloaded the pack, my intrigue was getting me all riled up. First, a big tarp spread out. Next, a blanket. Then another blanket. A sleeping bag emerged next. P helped me off with the snowshoes and into the cozy little snow-bed he had made up. (This is sounding a little scandalous... but keep in mind there are about 27 layers of material between us). He snuggled down next to me and pulled out a laptop and the movie Shrek 3. Niiice! It was all very romantic and I started to have some suspicions as to why he had brought me all the way out here to watch Shrek. Thirty minutes later, the cold started seeping in and my neck was aching from straining to see the screen, so I just stopped pretending like I was watching in the first place. I laid my head back and stared up at the stars. I looked around for quite some time, enjoying the beauty of the sparkling snow, the dark sky, and the handsome company. Then I heard the credits rolling and then, nothing. My toes and nose were ice and the snow beneath me was starting to feel hard and lumpy. All of a sudden, there was a cold nose bumping up against my nose, some flirty remarks were exchanged, and then (again)... nothing. We lay there, nose to nose in the snow for a long, long, loooong time. A lot of thoughts ran through both of our minds until, probably less out of romance and more out of "let's get this over with so we can get out of here", he finally kissed me! :) It was very sweet. And then we jogged back down the mountain and blasted the heater all the way home.

March, April & May 2010.

The following months flew by and were filled with lots of good times and getting to know one another as the weather began to warm up. We spent much of our time together with our friends and roommates, and some time alone. The fact that we saw each other in so many settings helped to move our relationship forward by leaps and bounds.... even though we never spoke about it. :) Some of our "dates" included:

*More than one "jam session", playing Rock Band with the boys.

*Finding excuses to get out of playing "Bang", a really dumb cowboy card game.

*Pat shooting Matt with my pink Red Ryder bb gun.

*Full moon snowshoeing in Midway with Meesh and Micah. (Meesh- "Help! I'm falling in the drink!")

*Taking Pat to one of BYU's gems, the Creamery on 9th, watching "Charlie and the Chocolate Factory" and a nice long chat.

*Talking and cuddling.

*Talking and cuddling some more.

*Skiing/boarding at Sundance with Pat's friend Matt, while Pat taught two of our friends how to snowboard.

*Going out on a date with Pat and my mom to the Lift at Jupiter Bowl in Park City.

*Took our first road trip together (March) to St. George for Pat to compete in the "Red Rock Rampage" mountain bike race.

My friend Hayley came with me to support Patrick in his race, and we loved watching these little boys playing in the mud.

Racing for team Mad Dog.

Nervous about handing up water during a race. This was my first time being a WAG.

He did well (placed 8th) and we had LOTS of time to talk in the car. Conversations start getting more serious. He even came with me to a family wedding in St. G!

*Made dinner for P & his roomies a few times (I think I earned all the boys' love when I recreated Cafe Rio pork salad- Happy Birthday Matt!)

*Triple date- Me and my two beautiful roommates were all dating boys at the same time for about a month! Colette & James, Marietta & Jordan, and Pat & I made pizzas together and then suffered through the motocross races in Heber with bleeding ears.

*Pat took me to eat at a Provo favorite, Diegos. He had a wonderful time laughing at my expense, being sick and under the influence of Mucinex. (Confused- "How did we get here?" I meant, what route did we take?)

*Went to a cheese party. Everyone had to bring a different kind of cheese, an explanation of its history, and something to pair with it.... Pat brought Easy Cheese. How refined! I brought Havarti. :)

*Pat came to my family's home for Sunday dinner. Met my older brother, AJ, and lost miserably at a game of hot dice. (I won!)

*I had this brilliant idea to take Pat up into the mountains to a cute little diner... it's a 1950s diner that was transplanted from Rhode Island to Oakley, Utah. Appropriately name the "Road Island Diner". Good idea, Linds. We drove 2 hours for a cheapo burger. Oh, well.

*I took Pat and my friend, Meesh, skiing at Deer Valley (compliments of my Park City friends... thanks Gammells!). We met up with my mom and her BFF, Cindy, who were tracking President Uchtdorf. Such stalkers! After a long (half) day of skiing, Pat, Meesh & I stopped in Midway for dinner at Tarahumara... where I discovered the sinful Cheesecake Chimichanga!

Meesh and I: our apre-ski glamour shot.

*Accompanied Pat and his friend, Ben, to the Rocky Mountain Raceway to watch them ride in a criterium road bike race. I felt a little bit like a loser, there all by myself, but I made friends with some spectators and a few little kids. It was fun to watch Pat race!

There he is toward the front of the peloton...


This is evidence of my loner-ness as a WAG... but I met other WAGS as months went by.

*Went on many hikes up on the east bench, behind Canyon Meadows. One on pretty Spring afternoon, one of the first nice days to be outside, we hiked up to some really neat old lime kilns up behind the Bonneville Shoreline trail.

*We cooked together a lot... Pat liked making me this braided "chicken bake" recipe of his mom's. One night we made a cheesecake, ate it and sat talking for hours. I wrote in my journal, "we just sat and talked forever. I love talking with Patrick."

*On another spring day, Pat set me up on his road bike and we rode down to the wetlands close to our neighborhood. I was so nervous that I wouldn't remember how to ride a bike... which is dumb because less than 6 months earlier I had ridden in a 53 mile road bike race. Well, a leisurely race. Anyway, good news- I didn't forget how to ride!

*Before I left out of town to go visit my girlfriends, Pat wanted to take me out to lunch, so we went to Jason's Deli (which became a favorite of ours) and ate lots of ice cream. Yum.

*When I got back from visiting my girlfriends, we spent the evening in- just snuggling and talking.

*The next day was a Monday, and because it was between semesters, there was no school. So we made a day of it. We had lunch, then hopped on Pat's new scooter and rode (sometimes very slowly) to Cascade golf course in Orem. I took him on in a round of mini-golf (keep in mind that at the time he was teaching a golf class at BYU) and won by 3 strokes! Then we stopped at the mouth of Provo Canyon, got drinks and walked a little ways up the Canyon, talking and enjoying the beautiful weather after a loong winter. Then we scooted on home for FHE, kickball and popsicles in the park. And a cardboard slide!


Aren't we so fun? Oh, yes we were young and beginning to fall in love.

A little love story... Part 4

Hmm... I'm not sure where to take this next. We'll see how it goes.
(*Note: I've noticed that I make frequent "interjections" of lessons and/or realizations. I like realizing things because it means I'm becoming a better "noticer". So please forgive my tangents. Maybe I'll highlight them.)

The day after our first date my little sister, Emma, died. (For those of you who didn't know her... Emma was my golden retriever). It was a horrible day. I cried and kept crying. I felt silly because she's just a dog, right? But it felt like my heart was covered in paper cuts and I just wanted to cry and kick things. Luckily I was able to high-tail it to Park City to say goodbye before she went and I spent the rest of the day surrounded by lots of good friends (love you, Hay) and my family. Patrick texted me late that night and told me that if it hadn't been so late, he would have taken me out for ice cream. How sweet. It's the thought that counts, right?

Emma out for a snowshoe on the golf course with me last winter

The next part of our relationship is really hard to recall. I wish I had a journal to make reference to, but I purposefully left Pat out of it for a lengthy amount of time. Boys can very easily monopolize precious journal terrain. And then 'POOF!', they're out of your life. I learned that lesson the hard way. I wanted to wait to make sure things were going to last at least several months before giving him space in my long-term memory (i.e. my journal). It's so true, too! I've broken out lots of old journals lately and I can't believe the stuff that's happened to me that I absolutely cannot recall from brain memory. (Ex. From the UNI days: "I followed around a 40-year-old woman today who is in the middle of a manic episode. I couldn't get her to keep her clothes on and she kept telling me that God was sending her messages to unroll the toilet paper in her bathroom.)

I do recall that over the following weeks and months Patrick and I spent quite a bit of time together. Conveniently, it was about 30 steps from my front door to his. At the beginning, we were both fairly hesitant to just "stop in". So, one day Patrick called me and invited me over to watch the new Michael Jackson movie. His sister was going to bring it over to watch. Oh boy. Talk about feeling conflicted!!! Here's why:

Those who know me, know oh-how-crazily I adore Michael. Hayley still gives me guff for bawling in the truck all the way down East Canyon after he died. (I blame the post-surgery meds). My roommates Yetta and Colette were such good sports to put up with my intense desire to participate in "Thrill the World" (this translated into us dressing like zombies and dancing Thriller in the middle of Zions National Park). I also made them see Odyssey Dance Theater's "Thriller" at Tuacahn.

Yetta and Coli about to be attacked.

Love the "Jason" number... every year!

Yes, that's us dancing like zombies. We had quite the audience (not pictured).
And some of my friends pretended not to be friends with me after this.

I love Michael Jackson. Love might be an understatement. My computer, from which this entry is made possible, is affectionately named M.J. and I can still remember dreams about Michael from my childhood (no jokes, please).

I had seen "This Is It" before (caught the mid-night premiere, of course), and I wouldn't think of passing up a chance to see it again. The conflict came from the prospect of meeting his sister. I had heard 'the boys' talk about Piper and how awesome and beautiful she was. And I don't know how to relate to "sisters" because I don't have any (or didn't). All I could think about is how I size up every girl that my brother brings around. I hadn't ever really had the experience of being sized up myself. I'm realizing now how much I unnecessarily stress myself out. There's something about hearing about someone before you meet them, isn't there? I talked myself into going after relaying to myself that Pat and I weren't technically a couple. We had been on dates. He had successfully avoided defining our relationship, and so I was pretty sure that Piper probably hadn't heard a thing about me. (Do you remember, Piper?) So I showed up- left my sequin glove at home.

After saying 'Hi' to everyone and meeting Piper, everyone sat down to watch. Piper sat right next to Patrick, leaving a space for me between herself and C-Flo. At this point I again thought, "Maybe she doesn't want me by her brother." Chris started laughing and gestured to her to scoot over next to him. We all laughed and had a great time watching the King of Pop. I had to fight the urge to sing along.

Other things that happened in February:

• We were both conveniently invited to "Rob's Cabin" up Spanish Fork Canyon over Valentine's weekend. Pat and I carpooled together and got lots of time to talk. The snow was so high that the boys had to use heavy machinery to clear a path to the cabin while we girls waited in the car. We spent the night playing "Bang", Pat and I almost won a round of couples ping-pong and the boys jumped in the snow in their bathing suits while the girls enjoyed the stars from the warmth of the hot tub.
  
• I went through the temple on February 23rd. Just my family was there (and my good friends the Stouts). And that's just how I would have it be. It was such a great experience. I kept it pretty private, and Pat was surprised and very encouraging when he found out I had decided to go.
• A group of us went up to Sundance to go skiing. Pat was up there because he was already working. When we were almost to the resort, I realized I had forgotten my COAT! Duh. It was a very cold, snowy day. We decided not to drive back, and so Pat gave me his coat and he shivered all afternoon. Sweet boy.
  

Later in the month of February I started thinking about my birthday. It was a big one- like a quarter century one. After some co-conspiring, Hayley and I planned a little birthday getaway for me and a handful of friends. On the 26th, several of us hit the slopes at The Canyons in Park City. I was at the summit early with my friend Jake, brother Chris, and my parentals. We skied our little hearts out and at noon as we stuffed our faces with food at the lodge, Patrick and his roomy, Robertson, met up with us. On the lift, my mom leaned over to me and said, "Linds, he's even cuter in person!" Agreed. That afternoon was spent blissfully carving S's in the mountain. I think Pat was showing off a little. :) But he is insanely good on a snowboard and it's kinda hot.

We skied up until the last possible minute, and it took FOREVER to get off of the mountain because of the crowds. After grabbing our stuff from the house and meeting more friends, we set off for the mountains again. This time we had backpacks and slip-slided up the side of a mountain in a big SUV. When we couldn't go any further, we got on snowmobiles and powered up to the tip-top of the Park City mountains to the Hawker's gorgeous "cabin". We're talking three-story lodge with massive windows overlooking the Park City area, billiards, ping-pong, hot tub, cozy fireplaces everywhere and LOTS of taxidermy. It was truly my dream birthday. Not because this place is nicer than the Stein Erickson Lodge at Deer Valley, but because I got to stay there with my friends and my guy. We ate pizza, played the guitar, sat by the fireplace, played games, sat in the hot tub and watched a movie.

The view

Pat, I hope Suzanne doesn't see this. Her bear skin rug!

Vick, Robertson, and Petey in the kitchen

These guys were the "chaperones": Vick and her hubby Curtis

Hay slimed me with Glaus Bakery cake...mmmmm

Checking out of the "Lodge"

James kept wanting to pick me up.

I call this the "Gap commercial".

Happy friends: Victoria, Curtis, Patrick, Lindsay, James, Colette, Hayley, Meesh and Yetta (not pictured)

Hay and I doing the ceremonial "Tazmanian Toe Tap"

Pat and Curtis had to snowshoe down the mountain without snowshoes. Poor guy.

Hayley and Yetta

Ok, tata for now! Another installment coming soon.

Linds

A little love story.... Part 3

Are the readers bored? Is it taking forever to tell this story? I guess I'm doing this more for me than for you... See? Selfish.

The week we got back from Zion, I played the role of a good niece and stayed with my young cousins for a week while their parents were in Hawaii. Keeping three elementary students and a preschooler on schedule and entertained for seven whole days is no joke. There were several occasions when I could be found hiding (or I guess couldn't be found) in the master bedroom with the door locked (Kim, if you're reading this... just kidding! I really did watch your kids closely... most of the time). It was during one of these times that my phone began to ring and I had a miniature heart palpitation attack when the caller ID read "Peterick" (I still wasn't sure whether to call him Patrick or Pete). I answered as cool and collectedly as I was able to manage and after some small talk, Peterick got to the point with a "Soooooo.... I was calling to see what you're up to this weekend. I was wondering if you'd like to go out to do something." Ahhhh.... the ever-ambiguous 'something' that daters go out and 'do'. I could have taken a lesson from my three-year-old cousin and cried hysterically for two hours. I still had five days of kid-sitting ahead of me which made it a virtual impossibility. But I made sure to throw in a, "I'm so sad! Can we go out another time?" so that he knew I was into the idea. That night the kids and I ordered pizza and my poor cousin Haley (who is just starting to like boys herself) had to listen to me gawk over this boy. When I pulled up his profile on the internet, she exclaimed, "Oh! He's cute! Maybe you guys will get married." I laughed. Hmmmm..... cue mysterious music. More foreshadowing???

The next week I kept my phone attached to my body at all times.... waiting. And waiting. Finally, midweek he called again and asked me out for the weekend. I'll admit, I breathed a HUGE sigh of relief. The reason? I don't think guys today are very deliberate when it comes to their asking-out behavior. Convenience and ease is key, I have learned. I spent the rest of the week dancing around on my tip-toes.

Friday came around and as soon as I was awake, I was at the mall. Man, where did those days go? Oh, to be at the mall! With money! By that evening, I had my outfit chosen: button-sleeved Gap shirt, multi-colored scarf, and dark wash Banana jeans....with cowgirl boots. (Is it pathetic that I know this? And include it?) At 6:00 I was washed, freshly made-up and waiting. So what is it with men and the concept of time? But at least this one had the decency to text me that he would be a few minutes late. In this case, those extra minutes were heaven-sent because I have to admit something. I was nerrrrrvous!

Have I portrayed myself as a little crazy? A novice when it comes to dating and men? Because I swear I'm not. I've dated men. I've kissed them. Some have been geniuses, doctors, professional athletes, National Geographic photographers, ladies' men, confident, over-confident, broken, insecure- some apply to the same person. And I have been confident in my dateability (coin!). So I could not figure out why this guy had me so hung up! He was smart, handsome, and gen-teel. Like other guys I'd dated. But he was different. I couldn't put my finger on it, but there it was. I had the dumb shivers whenever he was around. So I used those few extra minutes to look in the mirror and tell myself, "Don't screw this up! Relax. Crazy isn't attractive." And lo and behold, the evening was fine! Well, actually- to clarify- the interaction was fine.

After picking me up (I'm sure he looked handsome, but I have no idea what he was wearing), we landed ourselves at Thai Chili Gardens. Sadly I'll admit that I had never really tried Thai food before, but I welcomed the experience because it meant playing the "teach-me-something" role. Sarah Jessica Parker would be so proud. After smiling, talking and chewing for an hour, it was unclear if Peterick had made any after-dinner plans. We went to a museum that was closed, walked through a building on campus, and then all of a sudden we were parked in front of my apartment. I was exasperated and confused and couldn't help myself from blurting out, "Is that it? We're done?" His response: "I don't know. Yeah?" Goodness, this boy could take a lesson from The Bachelor on how to arrange a good, complete date. I couldn't accept that our date was over, so I proposed a movie hoping that he wasn't ending the date prematurely because he had made up his mind about me. But he said, "okay!" The Wedding Singer and a Love-Sac were all we needed and by the end of the night we were snuggled up in each others' arms.

I discovered another dating phenomena out of this experience. The first path leading to touch is a path that becomes very, very popular because over the next two weeks, we watched more movies than either of us had seen in a year. :)

More to come....

(Addendum: Patrick asked me to include that he did in fact have plans, both an A and B plan, which both fell through)

A little love story... Part 2

Ok, Chapter 2 is a good time to back up and give you a little "me" history lesson. Since my early 20s, I've identified as an "outdoorsy chick". I grew up camping, boating and rock climbing with my family, attending yearly "Girls Camp" with my church (although you can hardly call it camping... we had tutus and magic wands), and when I was 21, I was hired as the trip camp director for the Kostopulos Dream Foundation. For six weeks I took teens and adults with disabilities into the wilderness to camp, hike and run amok. It was the hardest work I've done in my life. When Camp K dumped me in a heap at the end of that summer, the realization slowly came that these alfresco affairs didn't categorically make me a pinecone eater. I was just tired and pathetic. But, oh! My blood yearned for that timbery taste!

So beginning in 2008, I made a goal. I called my most nature-nutty friend, Eric, and we headed south toward my favorite tree-hugger, Hayley. Then we hiked. We hiked Angels Landing and the Overlook in Zion. We hiked the Lava Caves, the Butterfly trail and Johnson's Canyon in Snow Canyon. We climbed and sat atop the Dixie Rock and held one another in the freezing cold to watch that slow desert sunset. And now looking back, this trip was so important because it marked a change- one that I can remember consciously making. I want to see as much of God's green (and red and yellow and blue and chartreuse) earth as I can in my lifetime.


So then it began!


Nordic skiing in the Uintas for my birthday.



Backpacking overnight into the Grand Canyon to THIS: Havasupai!


Enjoying the cool waters of the Colorado River in the MIDDLE of the Grand Canyon!


"Rafting for the Cure" with girlfriends in Moab.

And on the same trip, we hit four national parks in one weekend! Here we are in Bryce Canyon National Park.


Thanks to my loyal friends, we obtained permits to canyoneer the Subway. (Side note: I highly recommend it if you're in good shape, you can swim in 40 degree water and you're not afraid of flash floods... or getting lost and having to be rescued by two old mountain men)


Here are many of the besties on our full-day canyoneering expedition!

Here, Hay and I are on our way to Hidden Falls, which we've done more than once. She really is one of my very best friends.


And the thing that started it all- that first trip to Zion- became a yearly tradition. Every January we go to Zion. It's just what we do. And we love it!

Ok, ok, ok... I know why you came here. "Where's the love story?" you ask. This will work its way in, I promise. As you recall where we left off:

I left the party with things a-brewing and over the next few days, my mind was working overtime. There was so much to think about! Another semester of graduate school was beginning, this boy would not leave my thoughts alone, and Hey! It was time for Zion 2010!

Ok, another quick diversion... here's something else about me. I'm not excellent at foresight, but I love to be efficient with my time. So I started looking for ways to simplify while simultaneously entertaining all of the exciting possibilities that were beginning to emerge. Then, one night as I lay in bed doing what else but thinking, the solution came to me. It was in the form of an oft-repeated mantra between Hayley and I: If you like a boy, hike with him. Then he'll mistake endorphins for love.

Do you see where I'm going with this?

That week, I got on the phone, heart pounding (I know you know what I'm talking about) and called up Pete. I was prepared for the worst, but as I heard him exclaim, "Oh, yeah! Zion sounds like a blast!" my feet transformed into Michael Flatley's feet.... of their own volition! Freaky.

Ok, ok, so I was happy is all. And even happier when, the following Sunday in Sunday School, my roomies and I walked in a little late and Pete gave me the "come hither" eyes to sit by him (well, behind him... BYU Sunday School takes place in classroom desks). I didn't glean one ounce of scripture that day for all that curly head of hair in front of me. He turned around once or twice to ask about Zion which was coming up that week, and I thought to myself, "Wow! I guess he's really coming!"

Now, I don't always remember my reasoning for things and, being a girl, I will admit that I don't always act in the most rational way. For some reason that I cannot for the life of me remember now, I was very anxious to get to Southern Utah and so I left a day early and drove down... by myself. Probably to escape school and hang with my bestie, Hayley Comet Coombs. We did some hiking to the top of Snow Canyon and celebrated with our ceremonial "Tazmanian Toe Tap".


So the next day, we herded together the "crew", whom I should introduce briefly (many are pictured in the Subway picture above). Andrea G (a recently enlisted soldier), Nykell G (a recently enlisted missionary), Russell-the-love-muscle, Chris (aka Doty-face), Hayley and I made our way through St Geezy, Hurricane and La Verkin and wound our way up those curvy roads toward Springdale and Zion where I had booked a suite for us to stay in. (Travel Hint: If you would love to see Zion but don't want to spend a lot of money, go in the off season. And bring a friend with a National Parks Pass.) We checked in to our lovely suite that overlooked the Virgin River right at the base of Zion National Park!


We all got nestled in and then, something happened. Yes, it surely did. Do you want to know what it was??? I think I have your attention, which is very important. I'm trying to build some suspense here, because there is someone who has not yet appeared in my bloggy thing and deserves a very rightful place because she has a very rightful spot in my heart. My friend Susie "Maverik" Stout and her little family- husband Daniel, daughter Adelaide and son Liam-came for dinner and puzzles! If there's one thing you should know about my friend Susie, it's that she is literally a ray of sunshine. She can make the most miserable situation (for example, changing a lineup of adult diapers) seem like a day at Disneyland. If you didn't put it together, yes, Susie, Hayley and I all worked at Camp K together. We are fast friends forever.




Adelaide loved jumping on our "suite" bed. She has the cutest little giggle you've ever heard.

Ok, so back to the love story (Sheesh! Should I just make a low budget movie? It would probably take less time). So while all of this chit-chatting and puzzle-assembling was going on, I was checking the clock and my phone like I had OCD. Pete, his roommates C-Flo and Topher, his friend Matt, and my friend Meesh were coming and finally arrived long after dark. I made a second batch of pasta and fed our famished friends because let's be honest, traveling is hard on the ol' gut. Everyone was so tired that they pretty much ate, rolled off their chairs and fell asleep. Ok, so I guess we'll skip the romantic stroll along the Virgin River in the moonlight. I got up early the next morning to make breakfast for the masses and Pete was one of the first ones up. Just seeing his face made me all twitterpated and uncoordinated. We babbled nervously back and forth about nothing and after breakfast, everyone packed up and headed into the park.

Now, at this point I was thinking, "This guy is friendly. They're all really nice. But nice is not romantically interested... We'd better get hiking!" We chose a Zion's Park classic- Angel's Landing and began the ascent- a million and a half switchbacks. Greeeeaaaaattt! Now, I love my St. Geezy crew, but they hike like there's a pot-o-gold at the summit, which is not the way I like to hike- I call my version "scenic hiking". Luckily, my friend Meeshy falls into the same camp, so we took our place at the caboose and worked our way up at a steady pace, enjoying the ability to breathe and carry on a conversation. My interested was piqued when I noticed Pete lagging behind because it challenged what I knew about him: He rides bikes which means he's an athlete. And he is definitely competitive because I witnessed his kamikaze tactics on the ice rink. My teenage years taught me never to assume that a guy is doing something strange because he's interested. So we just walked together and talked- the three of us. When we were about 1/2 way to Refrigerator Canyon, Meesh (who is quite the little aspiring photographer) casually suggested that the two of us climb into a rock for a picture and while taking it, joked about it being our engagement photo.


Does she have psychic powers?

Whew... this is getting lengthy. OKAY. Ahem.




This is where I fast forward through endless details. Everyone was hiking, laughing, and enjoying one another. I LOVE when my friends are friends. When we got to the chains and the ice-packed foot trail after Scout's Lookout, the girls used what some might call "common sense" and turned back while the boys slip slided up a teensy trail holding chains- a 2000 foot drop on either side. I prayed, "Please don't let Pete fall. I want to look at his face again." After the hike, we introduced our Provo friends to "Blondie" and her diner in Springdale. After dinner Meesh decided she wanted to adios home, so she left... but she had brought the boys. And they made the excellent decision to stay since I had four extra seats in my car. We spent another day in St. Geezy hanging with Hayley in her hot-and-cold tubs, practicing our skills at a pole-dancing party (I should probably give more details here, but I'll let your imagination run with it. Suffice it to say, the guys were entertained AND entertainment), and sleeping on Hayley's floor- except she's such a good friend that I got to sleep in her bed. Lying there, I thought to myself, "This whole thing was a bad idea. Now I REALLY like this guy without any hint of reciprocation."

The next day, driving home, I experienced what an old friend of mine calls the "dumb shivers". You may relate. It happens when you are so struck- by fear, surprise or in my case infatuation- that you forget how to talk and be normal. And when you are driving in a car with four boys with verifiable ADHD diagnoses, it's hard to get a word in edgewise. With me driving, Pete riding shotgun and the peanut gallery squished in the back, I found the best approach to be smiling and nodding. When Pete offered to drive I thought, "Ugh! Are you serious? He's considerate, too! Why doesn't he love me already? We even hiked together!" While Pete drove, I pretended to sleep and the peanut gallery used the car mirrors to flash laser beams in my eyes. We finally arrived back in Provo just before church and I had already made up my mind: Too depressed for a single's ward today- I'm going to bed. I said goodbye, and after I had crawled into my big bed, my phone rang. It was C-Flo asking if I wanted them to pick me up on their way to church. I sighed and said yes. When I opened the car door, Pete was in the back seat with a big smile and his arm stretched out, ready for me to nestle in.

"Ooh," I thought, "He looks good in a suit."

To Be Continued.....

A little love story... Part 1

So... in an attempt to be purely rhetoricky (coin!) I have left out things of a personal nature in my extensive two-blog history. This was done, obviously, on purpose. And I have (or had) full intentions of keeping my blog very external and observational so as to not allow readers full access to my heart, mind and soul- something that has turned me off to blogs in the past. It's been hard for me to understand why someone would strip down to figurative nakedness and then throw themselves into the freaky world of the internet... that's a pretty risky form of streaking if you ask me. But I just want to go skinny dipping tonight.

About a year ago I met a boy. I remember the ice cream, the gazebo, and his disgustingly adorable smile. We chatted for a couple of minutes and then we both left. The heavens stayed put and life just kept a-tickin' by. I saw that boy from time to time riding around on his bicycle, wearing a funny hat. When it got cold and started to snow, the boy rode his bike less and less. For me, out of sight is surely out of mind and so I didn't notice when he vanished.

Then one snowy December day, my neighbor invited me to go Christmas tree shopping. When I hopped in his car, I turned around to find the bicycle boy in the back seat. A pleasant surprise! On our way to the tree store, neighbor guy kept calling bicycle boy "Pete" which was thoroughly confusing because I had distinctly remembered him introducing himself as "Patrick". Oh well. The conversation was fun and light-hearted. When I mentioned that I loved classic rock, Chris and "Pete" lit up and started yammering like little boys about the Wolfmother concert they had recently been to. Then, thanks to our friend the iPod, we got to listen to many-a-Wolfmother tune.

"WOMAN, you know you, WOMAN, you gotta be, WOMAN!!! I've got the feeling of love!"

When we got to the tree store (a.k.a. Walmart), the guys split up- Pete to the pop-tart aisle and Chris to the Christmas aisle. Without thinking, I started walking with Pete. When I finally started thinking, I realized that Chris had invited me to come and I should probably be following him. Sooo... fast forward. Talk, talk, shop, shop, shop... tie tree on car, drive home, decorate, decorate, talk, talk. Later that night, lying in bed, I couldn't stop thinking about Pete and how amazing he was. I knew we needed to be friends.

So when a mutual friend planned a night of ice skating at the Gallivan center, I did what any conniving girl would do... and called Pete's roommate Chris. He sounded enthusiastic (I would later find that he always sounds enthusiastic) and said he would round up his boys. So I rounded up my girls- Andrea G and Hayley-we met up with our group, and skated to "the Macarena" one too many times. We laughed to one another that it seemed like the guys just wanted to flirt with each other, because they spent the whole evening playing a really rough game of tag. They must have forgotten that A. we are ladies and don't hurl ourselves across ice on our stomachs, and B. we were beginning ice skaters.


A few weeks later, Pete and his roomies hosted an amazing New Years Eve party at the Canyon Meadows Clubhouse. Being true socialites (but not really.. they're actually cool, nice people), the event was very well attended and I found myself hovering in a corner with a few girlfriends I had lassoed up on my way over. People were talking, laughing, and generally enjoying the festivities which included mostly fake gambling. I won't lie and say that I wasn't slightly disheartened that Pete was dealing at the craps table and probably didn't glance up once before midnight- which made the prospect of kissing him next to impossible.

In addition, there were plenty of ladies surrounding him dressed in flap-girl fab (or drab). Again fast forward, 3,2,1 Happy 2010! And like a true Provo party, everyone disbanded by 12:30. I found myself standing there next to Pete, Chris, their roommate and a few of their friends, probably looking like an idiot. But I decided to climb out on a limb, and I stayed to help clean up the place. I left feeling a tiny little twinge of hope.

The Tale of a Lunch Hour

So for the past few weeks I've been a dutiful family player, helping my parents out at their business in South Jordan. This means that I sit at a desk for eight hours and read books and wait for the phone to ring. This also means that, come lunchtime, I'm ready to jump out of my skin and get out of the office. Today being as splendid a summer day as any, I decided to take my lunch in the out-of-doors. (Well, there's actually more to the story, but that will have to wait. Note for next entry: dining alone). So I grabbed my book, a blanket and stopped by the sandwich shop for some turkey-on-wheat, then proceeded on to the local park. It struck me as a little bit odd that there were no park-goers on a Saturday, but the concern soon left and I found a perfect little spot under a poplar tree, spread out my things and let out a sigh of delight. Sun shining. Clouds lazily floating by. Beautiful! I should have known...

I unwrapped my meal and was about six or seven bites into my sandwich when I heard something behind me. It sounded like flapping wings... which is exactly what it was. Now, this is probably a good time to talk about one of my irrational fears: birds. They are truly an archetype of the devil. While the fear may be irrational, it is certainly not without cause. Allow me to briefly list some of those causes:

*Years ago, a family of birds took up residency under my family's back deck. One sunny day I was dive-bombed by daddy bird trying to save his babies from the ravenous teenage girl who clearly LOVED sauteed hatchling. It took me years to walk through that back door without flinching.

*On a cruise out of San Fran, several dozen seagulls graciously showed up for our bon voyage party and attacked a woman, pecking at the poor lady's sloppy bun (maybe it was full of bugs?). Freak birds!

*The ducks at Sugarhouse Park have been known to attack children for a small piece of stale bread. As a result, I will never take any of my cousins' children to feed the ducks... which just plain makes me look bad.

*A flock of unbelievably stubborn pigeons recently terrorized my friend Meesh, commandeering her balcony and refusing to relocate, even after being poked with a metal hanger.

*Then there's that movie, The Birds. Nuff said.


So... back to my story. There I was... I turn around, sandwich in hand, to see the biggest, ugliest seagull you ever saw come swooping down and land ten feet from my blanket. (At this point, my heart began to race and the internal monologue went something like, "Awww, heck no!"). We make eye contact. I scowl. And he, the little basty, defiantly looks me in the eye and lets out a terrible SQUAWK!!! His wings start to beat the hot air, and he takes off, only to swoop again and fly overhead...probably to get a better look at my delicious turkey sandwich. And I know what he's thinking, "Ooh pickles! Tomatoes! Bamp, bamp! This calls for a party!" Floating about twenty feet overhead, he releases another disgusting squawk and in a few seconds I realize what the little jerk is doing! He's summoning all of his seagull friends.

Within 30 seconds, here's a gang of eight ugly gulls swooping in on my "me time" and TOTALLY testing my limits! And gang is the perfect word to describe it. It was like a street-fight-dance straight out of West Side Story. I stand up, birds retreat. Birds get cocky and advance, I protectively wrap up my sandwich. Birds cry out in anger and jealousy, I mutter a few threatening words. I run toward them yelling like a crazy person and kicking the air, bird gang takes flight all together and begin circling like psychotic vultures who are plotting revenge. And that's when I freak out, grab all my stuff in one hasty armload and run to my car, all the while looking over my shoulder. The squealing and shrieking still haunt my memory.

I was relieved to reach the safety of my vehicle, but equally annoyed and upset at my ruined lunch hour. As I backed out of my parking space, I looked up to find the gang lined up in the street-A challenge of the most pathetic kind. "Haha!" I thought, "Now it's time for MY revenge!" I revved up and raced through the parking lot, making a B-line for my friendly gang of roadblockers. They quickly scattered and I laughed, celebrating my victory that was not really any kind of victory. Especially when I looked over and Johnny seagull was flying right along side me. If the window had been down, he could have nipped at my ear! He let out one last shriek and I had to slam on the brakes and cover my eyes as he sinisterly took one last diving swoop and brushed my window with his wing tip.

Soo.... basically, I HATE BIRDS!!! I don't see why anyone would be possessed to pet one, admire one, and especially to own one of those iniquitous creatures. And I know that our Mormon ancestors were supposedly saved by seagulls, but I have a sneaking suspicion that we're being played for fools. I just don't see how that's possible.... And my pride might be hurt. Just a little.

Over and Out!
Ace

Oh, here we go! Hey bloggers, am I doing this right?

I want to start a blog, and I don't really know why. They whole idea has always been unappealing to me... maybe because I can't find anything worth bragging about. The only reason I can shake up is that I love reading about my friends' lives, their experiences and little seeming-mundane observations. I feel connected when I read about a mother's heartache and joy at weaning a child off the breast or a girl's frustration at the injustice of the Bachelor's latest choice of skeezy woman. I suppose that noticing things is a gift. And since I don't have it, I want to practice and develop it! When I take the time to pay attention, I am always amazed at the profoundities (Notice: I'm just going to go ahead and start coining all my own terms) that people come up with. Which leads me to the second reason for starting a blog- the art of the written word. You see, I have this secret ambition to write. To be a Liz Gilbert or a Sandra Cisneros, or even a poetic Robert Frost. Unholy. Exposed and clumsy. Hurtfully honest and yet somehow beautiful. Though, I think maybe I haven't been tormented enough to be that kind of writer. And if spouting sonnets and eloquent verses means or implies personal torment, I think I'm okay with being the dilettante. I've know worse writers. Heavens, half of America can't write a syntactic sentence, right? That being said, this blog will probably be painstakingly common (people have blogs for their dogs these days!) and I'm going to go ahead and bet that I probably won't write again for another six months. How's that for a way to start? Haha!

So, those are the only reasons I'm going to give for starting this blog thing. Oh...with one caveat. You are free to enjoy, eschew and/or laugh. Even at my expense. Because I'm starting this for number uno: me, myself and I. Sound selfish? Welp, it probably is.

Adios Cowboy!