Good Day

Today is a good day. My sister and I drove to Walgreen's so I could get some last minute things before I leave tomorrow. (Ahem, hair products.) We blasted David Archuleta's CD full blast and belted it out with no shame. Afternoon well spent. While at Walgreen's I spotted the find of the century, and found my secret weapon for making friends in the MTC. Harry Potter Valentines. Yep. I just became the coolest sister in the MTC. Truth. With such clever Valentine's Day salutations as "Have an enchanted Valentine's Day!" and "We have a magical friendship!" along with a sticker insert for every card, what's not to love? It won my heart, as I suspect it will those who are in my zone. I'm very excited for this years cliche deceleration of love day. It shall be grand. My sister wanted me to get some Jonas Brothers Valentines, but on principle, I had to adamantly refuse. Sorry, Kenz. I just couldn't do it. While driving home, we were both confessing our super-secret-spy-crushes on Harry. My sister affectionately refers to him as "Hotter Potter." Cute. So after a day of David Archuleta, Harry Potter, and hair products, I have come to the conclusion that life is good. Thank you, and goodnight.

Dear Future:

Dear Future:

Hi, it's me again. I thought I should let you know that I have decided something. When I grow up, I would love to live somewhere that has a Farmer's Market close at hand. Why you may ask? So that each week, I can fill my home with fresh flowers. I believe in beauty. Therefore, you should hook a sister up. Thanks in advance. You're the greatest.

Affectionately,

Emmilie

Thank you, and goodnight.

Tool in the Pool

Today I checked off the last thing on my California To Do list. Flu Shot. Done and done. However, I've never felt more like a tool doing so. After filling out the dreaded paperwork, the lady at the counter asked me if I would like to make a 7 dollar donation for the flu shot. What? I thought to myself. Why are they asking for donations? With a befuddled look on my face, I declined. The lady looked at my like I was a tool, and proceeded. Now, before I continue, you have to understand that this week has been one of the most stressful of my life. My mind is not working properly, and more than once have I misinterpreted. This was no exception. After getting my shot, and feeling too legit to quit, I headed back up to the counter to pay. They looked highly perplexed that I was back, and asked if I needed more shots. Confused, I told them no. They told me I was all set, and waved me out. I wondered why they didn't ask me to pay. I paid $18.87 for the H1n1 vaccination at Walgreen's. I was thinking I was secretly a ninja, and had found a place where they didn't charge you for shots. "Why didn't they ask me to pay?" I asked. My dad responded with an incredulous, "That's what the 7 dollar donation was for, hun." That's when I felt like a tool in the pool. My dad explained that since it's the Public Health organization, they can't make me pay. What a square. The health care system has successfully bamboozled me. Well played, guys. So I'm going to mail 7 dollars to the Eureka Public Health office from the MTC. It's totally fine. God will punish me. Thank you, and goodnight.

Ball and Chain

Last night, my peep Courtney and I were texting each other, talking about a mutual friend of ours who had just had a baby. She is younger than both of us. Answer=crazy. We both agreed that we were happy with where we were in life, and content with not being married. I then went to sleep, and had several bizarre and horrifying dreams about marriage. I woke up, relieved that it was all a dream, and laughed out loud. I checked my phone and saw that I had gotten a new message from Courtney after I had already fallen asleep. It was finishing up our previous conversation about marriage. It ended with "Ball and chain, man! Ball and chain!" I then laughed so hard I almost cried. Thank you, Courtney for your impeccable timing. It was just the thing I needed after waking up from such disturbing marriage dreams. Brilliant. So here's to being single. Thank you, and goodnight.

Dear Earth:

Right, so I just experienced my second earthquake. Awesome sauce. This time it was a 6.0 magnitude, and I wasn't as close to the epicenter. But it still pretty legit. This is my second intense quake in less than a month.

Dear Earth, could you tone it down a bit? That's all I have to say. Love, Emmilie.

Don't get me wrong, the first one was pretty sweet, just because I could say that I was awesome, and had lived through an earthquake. This time it was like having to watch a crappy re-run of a mediocre sitcom that you really don't like all that much in the first place. I could have done without it. Now, every loud gust of wind, or diesel truck that passes makes my heart stop just a little bit. Aftershock? False. Gust of wind, or diesel truck. That's the problem with hearing the earthquake before feeling it. Everything stresses you out afterward. It's totally fine.

But it's all okay, because nothing broke, and we still have power. Life is good. Thank goodness for building codes. Please bless Haiti. Thank you, and goodnight.

Note to Self:

Dear Self,

Do not go running after eating Cafe Rio salad, birthday cake, ice cream and m&ms. Generally it's a bad idea, and as a rule you should heed this warning. Passionately. Just saying. But props to you for still running 3 miles. You rock. Now pick yourself up off the floor and take it like a real woman. Thank you, and goodnight.

Bring It

So kiss me and smile for me. Tell me that you'll wait for me. Hold me, like you'll never let me go. Cause I'm leaving on a jet plane, don't know when I'll be back again.

Bring it, Montana. Thank you, and goodnight.

Look-a-Like

Right, so facebook is doing this thing where everyone is putting a picture of a celebrity they have been told they look like as their profile picture. This makes me laugh. First, I think it's kind of silly. It's a little narcissistic, but welcome to facebook. Second, I don't really look like any celebrity. It's fine. I have been told a couple of times that I look like Carrie Fisher. False. But whatever. Another reason this makes me laugh is because it reminds me of a time when I was in high school. It's a little flashback that goes a little something like this:

Once upon a time I was having a particularly annoying day, and all I wanted to do was to go to the movies by myself, and not talk to anyone ever again. I wanted to sit and fume. Alone. Luckily, Invincible was playing at the dollar theater, and Mark Wahlberg is attractive. Double prizes. So I went to the 6:50 showing, and sat down hoping that it wasn't too full of a showing. I was about a half hour early so I just sat and watched the same five ads replay. Fine by me. I didn't have to speak to anyone. Then, blessedly, it was 6:50 and the previews started. I enjoyed the first couple of them all alone, when suddenly a man came and sat down next to me, acting like we were the best of friends. Hold the phone, I thought to myself. We are not buds. I don't know him. At first I thought it was a mistake and that he thought I was someone else. Then I started listening to what he was saying. With a grand attempt and being suave and debonair, he greeted me again when he saw that I was finally paying attention. He started asking me all of these questions, like "Have you seen this before?" "Where are you from?" "Do you like football?" To all of this I responded with a befuddled, "wait, what?" and an occasional "Excuse me?" Then he threw out this classy line: "You know, you look exactly like Jennifer Aniston's twin sister." That's when it dawned on me. He was trying to make me his insta-date. False. That was a wrong choice, sir. First of all, it was a dark theater. You don't know what I look like. Second, I do not look like Jennifer Aniston, thank you very much. She has much better hair than I do. I was instantly furious that this fool was hitting on me when I wanted nothing more than to watch my movie in silence. He then made an even worse move and put his arm around me. Shut the front door. That is so not okay. I gave him a look that hopefully got the point of, "Excuse me? Chester the Molester? Please refrain." I think he may have misinterpreted though, because he looked at me, and said, "Hang tight, I'll go get us some popcorn." After his swift exit I sat there for about 5.7 seconds in a "What was that?" sort of daze. Then suddenly, I felt an overwhelming urge to get the heck out of there. So I left. After three minutes of a movie that I had completely missed because some square was trying to make me swoon. Swoon, I did not. Then I drove back home half incredulous as to what had just happened, and half furious over missing Mr. Wahlberg's really ripped abs. Then my better jovial nature took over, and I laughed out loud. That had happened.

So, in connection with facebook's look celebrity look-a-like week, I am highly tempted to post a picture of Jennifer Aniston. However, most of the world doesn't know that story. So I blogged it out instead. Thank you, and goodnight.

Awesome

This just might be my new favorite website. Look it up: www.iamawesome.com

Thank you, and goodnight.

Invincible

I've decided that I'm going to wear brave pants for the next 18 months. Well, brave skirts really. Then nothing will stop me. Maybe I'll get Superman pajamas to wear at night, therefore making me invincible. I think it's a good strategy. Thank you, and goodnight.

Fasting

I am officially taking a fast from John Mayer. It needs to be done. Thank you, and goodnight.

Favorite Pastime

So yesterday I got my missionary haircut. That was... fun. I once told someone that getting my haircut was the best thing ever. Why? He asked. Answer: Do you ever protest to people playing with your hair, and massaging your scalp? Reply: Good point. That was then. I now retract that comment. Since said conversation, I have had many a haircut that have sent my stress levels into shockingly high numbers. I am a little OCD about my hair. Acceptance is the first step, followed by admittance which can often be the hardest so I would say that I am well on my way to recovery. With that said, I will tell you that getting my hair cut is in all reality one of my least favorite things in the world, and I try to postpone it for as long as possible. Well with the whole mission thing coming up in like two weeks, I figured it would be wise to get the traditional missionary haircut. I carefully and with great detail explained how I liked my hair to be cut. 33 minutes, some molding gel, and a blow dry later my hair was done. Naturally, not in the way I asked for. The only consolation is that this time, it's not like I have anyone to impress. I'm going on a mission which is code for "Nun" for a year and a half. It's totally fine. But she did fix my bangs, which I won't even go into WHY they needed to be fixed- I may have a conniption, and she did manage to successfully give me layers. So all in all, not the worst haircut I've ever had.

However, it was the conversation that got me thinking the most. One of my problems with constantly getting such stressful haircuts is that I keep moving. The last 3 haircuts I've had have been in 3 different states. That makes it even more fun because you have to try new people out, and figure out what their style is. Also, it means that you have to dish out your life story each time. This time I was able to talk a lot about my mission and Montana. That was cute. Lori, my hairdresser told me that I should go snowshoeing while I was there, and I almost wept. She asked me how I liked Ferndale, and I told her that I loved it. Then she asked me a seemingly harmless question. "Have you done anything fun since you've been here?" That one got me. I have had a wonderful time being home. I've loved every minute of it. I told her that I had taken a trip to Oregon, and am going again this Saturday. (I love the temple.) I had gone to the beach several times, and had mostly just been really busy getting everything ready for my mission. That didn't sound to impressive to me, but nonetheless I had enjoyed myself.

Later, when I was home trying to decided if I liked my haircut or not, I replayed that conversation in my mind. I finally came up with a decent answer for her: I've lived. Plain and simple. I've lived. I love my life so much, and find so much joy in the day to day adventures and nonsensical events. Isn't that how it should be? Shouldn't the fun in life be the living of it? While I have not done anything too amazing or earth shattering while I've been home I've been happy. I've laughed everyday- some days I laugh so hard I cry. (Like when my dad tells me how big my hips are, or when I made that unsuspecting Elder Packard feel like a tool, or when my sister unleashes her killer wit, or during Family Home Evening.) See? Life is fun. Families are fun. Growing is fun. Learning is fun. Working, striving, progressing, and becoming can be fun. Life is wonderful, and what I do for fun is live it. That's my favorite pastime of all. Thank you, and goodnight.

Dear Future:

Dear Future:

When I grow up I would so much love to own a treadmill. That would be great if you could hook a sister up. Thanks so much. Again, you're the best.

Love you,

Emmilie

Thank you, and goodnight.

18 Days

18 days. 18 days and counting people. 18 days until I enter the MTC. Oh, snap. 15 days until I fly to Salt Lake. Um, what? Yes. It's really happening. It's a very surreal feeling. The sisters asked me the other day what I thought about all of it. This was my answer. "Surreal. Very surreal. And I still haven't come to grips with the fact that I'm going to Montana." Truth.

I used to be a large advocate for knowing exactly what is going to happen next. Then one day I found myself telling someone, "It's kind of fun not knowing what's going to happen." The truthfulness of what I was saying hit me, and I embraced the fact that my future is something that is discovered in the experience of it. Isn't it better that way? We are constantly counseled to find joy in the journey. There is so much truth to that statement. Finished are the days of postponing my happiness. I decided a long time ago that I would not wait to be thinner to be happy. I would not wait until I was somebody's girlfriend to be happy. I would not wait until I was smarter, or prettier, or more athletic, or more popular. Indeed, I decided that it was pointless to wait to enjoy the life I have been blessed with. Instead I embraced the present. Now, moments of fear still come. The future is scary, but the knowledge that my Father has a plan for me is enough to get me though. Indeed, it is kind of fun not knowing what's in store. So I'll love whatever may come. I'll find joy in the journey. In 18 days I'll begin the next chapter of my life. I'll welcome the future with faith. Thank you, and goodnight.

Dear Future:

Dear Future:

Australians are nice. Especially the men. Just throwing that out there. Do with that what you will. Thanks in advance.

Yours,

Emmilie

Thank you, and goodnight.

Just Say No

No, I will not finish my vegetables. I will not put my shoes away. I will not hang my skirt up, nor will I put that dish in the dishwasher where it belongs. No I will not say "I'm sorry," or "I was wrong." No I will not practice the piano. No I will not stop saying that. I will not wear clothing that matches. I will not stop listening to that offensive music, nor will I turn it down. No, I will not be unbiased or dispassionate. I will not live under the false pretense that everyone lives happily ever after. No, I will not pretend to like it when you make the same joke 37 times in a month. No, I will not sit quietly, nor will I stop dragging my feet. I will not do my homework, and I will not get off of facebook. No, I will not come back to you, and no I will not stay. No I will not get ready for bed. No I will not change my tone. I will not change my mind. I will not change my opinion. I will not change my shirt. I will not change your tire. I will not change the way I look at you. I will not change the way I feel. I will not change my perfume, nor will I change my style. I cannot change what happened. I cannot change what I said. No I won't go on a date with you, and no I don't ever want to. No I don't like you, no I don't think you are attractive. No I don't want to go to the gym. No, I don't want you to touch me. No I didn't mean that. I won't think for you. I won't do your work for you. No I don't like that, and no I don't think you should continue. No I don't like Walmart. No I wasn't talking about you, and no I didn't mean to offend you. No I don't want to do that right now. No I'd rather live in Florida. I don't like cheesy lines, and no I'm not falling for it. No, I wasn't using you. No I don't like talking about it, and no I didn't bring it up.

This is for all the times I wanted to just say no. Thank you, and goodnight.

True Love

So, my heart officially belongs to Northern California. It is breathtaking, glorious, and for the moment, home. There are many reasons to love such a beautiful place, and one of them is called winter. The winters in Northern California are divine. Not a hint of snow, pretty sure ever. Since arriving here in mid-December, we have had mostly sunshine, and mid 50-60 degree weather with an occasional breeze. Lovely. Now, these past few days have been what you would call a "typical" Humboldt County winter. Rain, and lots of it. Indeed, there are very few moments of dryness. It's allowed me to embrace my inner Northern Californian, and today I went to the store in yellow rain boots, a Carhartt vest, and my trusty green Flight of the Conchords hat. I felt legit, too legit in fact, and was overwhelmed by the need to admit my becoming a byproduct of Humboldt County.

I heart Ferndale. And here's why: today when I was driving through town, the blessed sun came out for just a few minutes before the torrential downpours began again. "Life in Technicolor," one of my personal favorites by Coldplay was blasting, the sun was shining through my window, the mist was settling in the trees, and I was able to fully acknowledge the beauty of where I live yet again. How blessed we are that God is an artist as well as our creator. How blessed I am to live in a place that speaks to my soul. I love the Redwoods. I love the mist that hovers serenely over the wet asphalt, the color of the trees as the sun sets. I love the smell and sound of the ocean as it crashes into the coast. I love the drive to Centerville Beach, my Somewhere Only We Know place. Yes, my heart belongs to Northern California. I shall miss it. Thank you, and goodnight.

Grown Up

I've decided that some things in life make you feel grown up. I would imagine that getting married and having kids definitely falls into that category. Serving a mission is something that makes me feel really old. I feel as if I have achieved the status of a "grown up." I am unsure of my feelings towards this new label. It hit me the other day when I was trying on some of my new missionary get-up, and looking oh so much like a sister missionary. It hit me when I bought practical shoes. It hit me when I was running errands the other day. It hit me when I was buying clothes in preparation for the temple. It's hitting me now as I'm getting ready to drive to Medford. I'm growing up. Life is changing. Life is progressing. I'm stepping into that realm of adulthood whether I want to or not. It's scary, but in a much larger way, it is beautiful.

Though far from perfect, my life is in a place where I would want it to be at the age of 21. I have experienced many things in my life. I have had many opportunities and circumstances from which to learn. I have observed much; loved much; grown much; laughed much. And it's not over- not even close. I have so much ahead of me. I feel good with where I am now. These past few days have been ones of deep introspection and contemplation. I have had many realizations for good and for bad. Yet each realization has helped with my progression. So often I have relied on my Savior. I have relied on my Lord to get me through; to guide me to where I am today. I love this scripture from the Doctrine and Covenants: "Verily, verily, I say unto thee, blessed art thou for what thou hast done; for thou hast inquired of me, and behold as often as thou hast inquired thou hast received instruction of my Spirit. If it had not been so, thou wouldst not have come to the place where thou art at this time." (D&C 6:14) How blessed we are to have a loving Heavenly Father who will guide us to all places that will be for our benefit and progression. How blessed I am to have a knowledge of this. How God loves his children.

I have been highly blessed of the Lord all of my life. Every blessing, every trial has led me to where I am today. Every lesson learned, every mistake made has shaped me into the person I am becoming. Truly, God's work and glory is to bring to pass the immortality and eternal life of his children. How blessed we are to be sons and daughters of a king. I love God with all of my heart. As long as I have that knowledge, I am ready to enter into that realm of adulthood, that sphere of continual progression, and return home. Thank you, and goodnight.

Please Bless

So I came to the sudden and slightly harsh realization today that sister missionaries are always nice. They are so sweet, accepting, forgiving, and they always say positive and uplifting things. I am pleading with myself that over the next 18 months, I can be such a sister. Please bless that I can be nice. Please bless that I can say nice things. Thank you, and goodnight.

Minor

Right, so I'm 21. I promise. For the most part, I feel that I look my age. I've never been taken for older than I am, so I suppose that's a positive thing. It's probably the type of thing I'll appreciate more when I'm older. Yet currently, I have not reached that "older" status. Oh no. In fact, it may be possible that I am going backwards. Yesterday, when I went to teach with the sisters something happened that made me laugh out loud. It's a little story that goes a little something like this: The woman who's daughter we were teaching turned to me, and asked me if I go to Fortuna High. As in currently. False. I laughed a little bit, and told her no, I am home from college for a little bit, but would be leaving on a mission in about a month. This makes my age of 21 legit. She looked rather surprised, but expressed excitement for me. I didn't really think anything of it. I heart such nonsense. Then today, I was shopping on Main street, and went into a store with lots of old lady clothes, and some sweet socks that made my heart ache for my dear friend, Kinsey Bowman. Love her. Anyways, the lady greeted me kindly, called me "Hun," and let me browse. Then she asked me in a very motherly way if I was playing hooky from school. Considering the only school near by is Ferndale High School, I assumed that she too thought I looked like I was in High School. "What the eff?" I began to think to myself. This was odd. Twice in a period of two days my age was mistaken for 17. Great. So I finish my shopping, and clutching a bag containing hideous missionary shoes, I head home. My dad was at home when I got there, and one of the first things he says to me is that the guy that works at Valley Grocery thought I looked like I was 17. Incredulity rushed through me. What the St. Francis? I am in fact, NOT 17, thank you very much. Not even close. So I have this weird thing called everyone apparently thinks I am a minor. Awesome. For the record, I am so not. Thank you, and goodnight.

Beautiful

Dear world, I would like to announce that today was a beautiful day.

It is not often that one feels such a complete sense of purpose, peace and rightness in regards to her future in one day, but alas- such was my day. It was the kind of day where I couldn't let anything thing really irk me. (Not even those fools at Horizon Business Products) It was the kind of day where I ran a 5k, and felt great. It was the kind of day where I sang out loud in my car, and didn't even care. It was the kind of day where I got to laugh with my brother. It was the kind of day where I taught with the sister missionaries, and felt complete; whole; certain that I am doing the right thing in serving a mission. The kind of day where I genuinely love everyone, and more often than not I can see the good in them. The kind of day where I didn't feel bad about giving those tools at the gym some sass. The kind of day that warranted productivity. The kind of day where I thought in big words. The kind of day where I had a lovely conversation for over an hour with a dear friend. The kind of day where I didn't fear the future, I embraced it. The kind of day when I didn't regret the past, I loved it. The kind of day where you score points because you DIDN'T have to get your eyes numbed at the optometrist. The kind of day where you are at peace with yourself and the world. The kind of day that calls for curly hair, and flip flops. The kind of day where sweatpants are divine. The kind of day where you clean, clean, clean. The kind of day that calls for order and organization. The kind of day in which you cross off things from your to-do list. The kind of day to wear heels. The kind of day to smile. The kind of day to laugh. The kind of day to sing. The kind of day for me. I like today. Thank you, and goodnight.

Dear Future:

Dear Future:

I would love to go to law school. Also, I would like to have a house with a white picket fence, and lots of tasteful artwork. Thanks. You're the best.

Always,

Emmilie

Thank you, and goodnight.

Dear Future:

Dear Future:

Please bless that I marry someone that has a very short last name. Like three letters short. Thanks.

Love you,

Emmilie

Thank you, and goodnight.

Dear Future:

Dear Future:

Last night I dreamed that I was married to John Mayer. That was divine. He sang me beautiful songs about love, loss and nonsense; it made my heart sing. I was happy, and that was great. Now, I know that he is like 12 years older than me, whatever. That's fine. I could probably deal with that. But if not, or if for some reason John Mayer is unavailable when I finally do get hitched in like 8 years, I would so much like to hook up with a fool like him. Please bless that he plays the guitar, has a voice that makes me melt, writes his own songs, and has lyrics that make me think- and smile. That would be so great if you could hook a sister up.

Thanks,

Emmilie

Thank you, and goodnight.

Careful What You Wish For

Remember that old adage that goes a little something like "be careful what you wish for." Heed it. Yesterday I was doing what I do best, contemplating my life with a healthy dose of introspection. I was also thinking about my blog, naturally, yet I found myself uninspired with the amount of exciting posts, or lack thereof. It's fine. So I remember thinking, "Dude, I wish something really exciting would happen." Fail. At precisely 4:27 PM that afternoon, something exciting did in fact happen. It's called an earthquake. A 6.-freaking-5 earthquake. I was making rice for our Cafe Rio pork salads, when all of the sudden, there was a very loud unnatural sound. It sounded like a washer that gets a little carried away while on spin cycle. "What the eff?" I thought to myself. Then I looked around the corner into my living room. Things were starting to shake. "What the-" Then it dawned on me. "Oh snap. This is an earthquake." That's when all of that elementary school earthquake drill preparation gets put to good use. I automatically headed towards the nearest doorway and held on. It was the most bizarre and unsettling feeling watching the clock, the vase and other trinkets fall off of my mantle and smash to pieces. It was so weird to have everything in sight shake uncontrollably. The pictures became skewed, and the candles began to rattle off of the coffee table. Then suddenly, it all stopped. My dad told us to all get outside, but there were power lines falling, and sparks flying, so we booked it right back inside.

"Was that an earthquake?" My little sister asked. Um, I'm going to have to go with a yes on that one, chica. The moment after the earthquake was one of the most surreal moments of my life. Luckily, I was able to stay calm. (Which was an act of God because remember how bad weather/natural disasters are my biggest fear? Pretty sure earthquake falls under that category.) I picked up my cat who was possibly more freaked than I was, and held onto my sister- then we bonded. Nothing like a natural disaster to help you become a better stronger family. Isn't it about time? I looked into the kitchen, and my heart sank. Our precious pork for the salad was now all over the floor. Not gonna lie, that was the worst part of the whole thing. I was pissed. I really wanted that salad.

We started cleaning up, letting family know we were okay, and trying to salvage our dinner. My dad is on the fire department, so he booked it to go help the town and get the 411 on what happened. Apparently the epicenter was 22 miles from my lovely little town of Ferndale. Eureka and Ferndale were probably hit the worst, and there was a great deal of damage to both cities. Meanwhile, Will called home and told us that there was a possibility of a Tsunami warning. Awesome sauce. I love living right next to the coast. That's when I started to freak. The potential of having two natural disasters happen in the same day was enough to accelerate my heart rate. That and I was starving, which anyone who knows me will attest is not a pleasant thing, and may or may not make me not the best version of myself. So, trying to maintain some semblance of peace and calm, I get an extra set of clothes together and my trusty Book of Mormon, in case we would have to evacuate. Then I prayed my guts out. It's fine. Luckily we had power, so we were able to check the radio, which delivered sweet blessed relief: there was no tsunami warning in place. They also informed us that we had just experienced a 6.5 earthquake. That's when I felt too legit to quit. I had survived my first earthquake, and stayed calm, thank you very much.

Luckily there weren't too many aftershocks, and they were small enough that you could barely feel them. There were a few that would happen right after another, and they would get bigger. That was a little freaky. I looked around the room and everyone had the same expression as if to say, "Please bless that it doesn't get worse." Luckily it didn't. The whole concept of going to sleep and waking up to a 6.4 or 6.6 aftershock was...super great. That was highly terrifying, and once again I prayed my guts out. God must love me or something, because there were only some small tremors, nothing too bad.

So I was super brave, and deserve mad props...or something. But I also think that I have had my fair share of earthquakes for a while, and would like to be done. And next time you wish something more exciting would happen, be warned. It could come in the form of the shifting of tectonic plates. God be with you. Thank you, and goodnight.

The Treasure State

Right, so I got a letter from my mission president today, which is highly exciting. It gave some good info on about the great state of Montana, and what is apparently "one of the best missions of the church." (Verbatim. Eat it.)

However, I must admit that I laughed out loud when I read this: "You will be expected to follow [the dress and grooming guidelines] when you arrive in the Montana Billings Mission. Even though this is cowboy country, western clothes, cowboy boots, and buckles are not acceptable proselyting attire." Oh darn.

It also talked about preparing for the winter months. Oh snap. Bring on the boots, the scarves, the ear-bands, the gloves, ski masks, and parkas. Today it was a lovely high of 6 degrees in Billings, Montana. That will be fun. Times 3.

I am so excited to go on a mission. It will be such a good thing for me to be in a place where I am totally out of my element. A place where I can serve all those around me in love. I am so excited to go to Montana. I can't wait to gain a love and a fervent respect for such a beautiful place. I can't wait to meet people, and share such a divine and inspired message with them.

Bring on the Treasure State, folks. I'm ready. I love you, Montana. Thank you, and goodnight.

Horoscopes

Right, so today I was super lucky and got to sit in the waiting room of an Orthodontist for an hour and a half. The best part is that I've already had braces. I've served my time. But alas, I served another hour and a half. It's fine. I'm also awesome, and didn't bring a book. Awesome sauce. Instead, I decided to leave it to fate, and see what magazines said office would provide for me. AARP, Teen Vogue, Highlights, and Sports Illustrated. So I flipped through some issues of Sports Illustrated thinking that it would at least be some decent writing. Now, while I will admit there were some fine selections of journalism, it generally helps if the reader gives a crap about what he or she is reading. Now, maybe that was my bad- I started with a golf article. Fail. But that's okay. It was well written, and I learned all about the tournament that the pros call "Disney." Cute huh? After thumbing through two articles devoted entirely to college basketball and football, I had had enough. I was looking for some sort of Rick Reilly brilliance, but alas, there was none to be found. (In the 7.3 minutes that I spent looking.)

The office had several copies of Teen Vogue, and so thinking of those "Sexy Fall Fashion Tips" I rolled my eyes and picked up a copy. It was actually highly entertaining in a ridiculous sort of way, and I was shocked at how many articles were devoted to battling acne. It's war. Then I happened upon the horoscopes. I quickly found Leo, and ready on anxiously. This was my February horoscope: "Host a V-Day party and play matchmaker. Keep an eye out for the guy who stays late to help clean up afterward. (He's more interested than you think.)" Then I laughed out loud. Apparently love is coming my way. Oh snap. Too bad the majority of the month of February will in fact be spent in the MTC. That would be a prime place for a "V-Day" party. I'll see what I can do. Oh snap. Reading this helped me to remember my love for trashy teen magazine horoscopes. It's a love that's real and true, and highly nonsensical. Thank you, and goodnight.

Revenge

Okay, I'm going to be a pal and let you in on a little secret. If ever you are mad at someone, don't scream at them; don't punch them in the face. Instead, take them to the gym and make them do lunges. 3 sets of 15. That'll show 'em. For about a week. So if you are contemplating how to seek your revenge on that list of enemies you have so unfortunately accumulated, look no further than your local gym. Thank you, and goodnight.

Incredulity

I have decided that life is funny, and boy are silly. How I heart life, and how I mock men. Silly life; you trickster. Thank you, and goodnight.

Creep-o-Meter

Right, so I was watching the Food Network tonight, my other love, and Guy Fieri, who's last name is apparently really Ferry... whatever... was hosting. There has always been something about this guy that makes me feel a little sketchy. I've just never trusted him. I was watching him, when all of the sudden I realized that he had not one but TWO gaudy pinky rings. Fail. I don't trust men with pinky rings. Especially gaudy ones. Then, immediately after I realized that he was also wearing a gold chain necklace. Double fail. I also really don't trust men who wear gold chain necklaces. It's fine. Then, feeling slightly concerned, I realized that this fool also had two pierced earrings- thereby causing me to find a third reason not to trust him. To top it all off, my dear brother pointed out to me that he had facial hair that he probably stroked creepily. Indeed, he was correct. My mind exploded. Never in my life have I ever seen a person that has sent my creep-o-meter into such a high level of warped speed. I'm still feeling a little stressed. Wow. If ever you meet a man with gaudy pinky rings, gold chain necklaces, two pierced ears, and facial hair, run. Run fast. Thank you, and goodnight.