It’s. Over.

I broke off my fictional romance with Edward Cullen this week. Not that I wanted to. It’s only because I completed all katrillion pages of the entire Twilight series in about 20 days. Yes, I have a life (a really busy one at that). Yes, I continued to live it--but I’ve only slept about 25 minutes in the last 20 days. Total.

I haven’t been so drawn to a book in, well…ever. It’s not a genre I generally go for. I don’t like fantasy (except for the ones swirling around in my own head where I have a perma-good hair day and no appetite). I don’t like vampires (unless we’re talking about a virtuous and devastatingly handsome one). I don’t like werewolves at all—not even IN the book, and that wasn’t enough to end it for me. As I am acutely aware of my own weaknesses, I can tell you EXCACTLY why:

For me, Krispy Kreme doughnuts are nothing compared to the power of a righteous man (or stone cold immortal).

It’s my own personal kryptonite.

It’s why Twilight brought me to tears. It’s why my heart STILL skips a beat around full-time missionaries (who are young enough to be my kids…er, kid brothers). It’s why I will forever have a crush on Captian Moroni. It’s why Donny Osmond was my first love...

And why I married my last.


Lucky me. He has some BrEaThTaKiNg vampire moves of his own.

Bitten!

I know, I know! It's been a while, and I'm afraid it could be a while longer. I succumbed to temptation and started reading the Twilight series (while secretly wishing Sir William was a vegetarian vampire too). Blogging will have to wait. I can only 'sink my teeth' into one fixation at a time. My current sparkly obsession happens to be {whisper} Edward. I didn't think it was possible, but this righteous vampire is seriously giving Captain Moroni a run for his money.

Under the Influence

I don’t know when it happened that I became blissfully domestic. I had never planned to be the garden growing, home canning, furniture refinishing, cinnamon roll baking, home decorating gal that I am. I can’t really say I grew up with that influence in my life. On second thought, I do remember my mom bottling zucchini once. It was sweetened to be “mock” pineapple. And yes, it looked about as good as it sounds. The only thing we mocked after that was my mom (I love you mom). Don’t get me wrong--she is a great influence. Her interests center more on music, travel & finance. No need to bottle anything if you’ve got a massive portfolio, right?

Wrong! Or so says my oldest child, the one who won’t eat a peanut butter sandwich without homemade strawberry jam. It was his influence (and a sale on strawberries) that prompted the jam making effort this week. Just look at them!


Did you hear the choir of angels sing as you scrolled down? You should have, ‘cause they’re little bottles of spreadable heaven!

In the last few days, I’ve probably eaten my weight in strawberry jam. I am completely under the influence and starting to think I may need detox. Yeah, it’s that good. Ain’t no one gonna mock this mom!

“It’s ok. Really, I’m fine…it’s nothing."

I was asked to speak in church today. It was pretty much the last straw on this already overburdened camel’s back. To make things even more challenging, I got the assignment just 48 hours ago.

48 HOURS!?

Girls need more time to prepare! We don’t just jot a few thoughts down on the back of a program during the opening song. It has me thinking that men just don’t get us. When a woman says “it’s ok”, what she really means is: I need to think long and hard about how and when you’re going to pay for your mistake. When we say “fine”, what we’re feeling is: I’m right, this argument is over and you need to shut up. And “nothing”? Well, “nothing” actually means “something”, and y'all had better be on your toes. So you can imagine what I was thinking when I responded to the request: “It’s ok. Really, I’m fine…it’s nothing”.

Sigh...

It’s interesting to me, because when guys say these words, we hear something totally different too. “It’s ok”, sounds like: Dinner was mediocre. “It’s fine”, translates: That outfit’s not exactly stunning. “It’s nothing”, feels more like: I think you’re overreacting.

Experts suggest communication is the key to resolving these misunderstandings. I have a better solution—say nothing at all. Can you envision the cover for that self-help book? "We don’t speak the same language anyway, so what’s the point?" (Somehow I don’t think Oprah would consider it for her book club.)

To illustrate my theory, Sir William left church early today to catch a plane. I came home from my meetings to find he’d taken the Sunday paper with him. Despite the rush to pack and make his flight, he took the time leave my beloved Travel section on the table just for me. He didn’t use a single word, but that action was the brightest spot in my day. Whether he meant to or not, I heard Sir William say: “Hey, I know it’s been a rough few weeks for you. You deserve a vacation, even if it’s just an imaginary one. Hope you come back refreshed.”

I needed that today.

Though he does speak a foreign language, most of the time Sir William tries to “get” me. And you know what? It’s ok…really.

Shhhh! High Priest Sleeping

For no apparent reason (other than a bad back and some random ear hair) Sir William was made a High Priest today. I suppose we should've seen it coming. The man has served as Elders' Quorum President more times than any normal person should. This last time around, I asked if he could puulleeeezzzee try to get it right so they could stop calling him to the position. Well, it looks like he finally did. It's that, or the Elders figured his weak back was of no use to them. Could it be the High Priests discovered his affair with Jenny Ology? Either way, I'm thrilled he won't be injured during another Elders' Quorum move. He's just happy to finally be allowed to snooze in church!