Her Hair is Full of Secrets

My mom is pretty cool. My friends have always been jealous of how cool of a mom I have.

A. My mom has always had great style and ALWAYS looks put together. Have you met my mom? Ever seen her with a greasy pony tail? Nope. Neither have I in 23 years. Those people exist in the universe. And Patti J is one of them.

B. A salon in my house stocked with every hair tool, product and makeup item the heart could desire - yeah, it's been pretty rad.

C. She's always super nice to everyone, all the time. She's a great listener (I think you probably have to be, to be a hairdresser) and everyone likes and trusts her. For this reason people tell her everything. She's the hub of all info and gossip you could ever hope to know.

Yesterday we went to the Draper temple - where I went through for the first time before we got married. I had Mother's Day on the mind and kept thinking of some of the greatest things about Patti B.

First, I obviously thought of when I went through the temple, since, you know, we were there. I remember every time I got nervous or confused, I just looked over at my mom next to me and she was just smiling and comfortable. I've watched my parents go to the temple every few Tuesdays pretty much my entire life. I remember thinking "If my mom does this and is happy and comfortable here so regularly, I can be too and that's what I want."

Then I thought about the first time I was really grateful for my mom and knew she loved me. I got my wisdom teeth out when I was 12 and I had to go to an oral surgeon because I had a random phantom extra tooth to be removed from my sinus cavity as well. It was pretty rough. I had to take a bunch of pain/antibiotic/puke my guts out pills every few hours, including during the night. I've always been really independent and could have easily set my own alarms and woken up to take my own pills responsibly. And I think my mom knew that. But she woke up every few hours during the night, even though she had to work, to make sure I took the pills and was feeling ok. I remember thinking "She doesn't have to do this. It must be a pain to wake up every few hours knowing she doesn't have to do this. But she's doing it, and its very reassuring to me."

She never missed a game!

Then I thought about the first time my mom made my jaw drop. We were at Seven Peaks and I was probably 10 or 12. She came to do the rope swing with us because Mitch was so little. She got in line. Ok Patti B. You're gonna rope swing? Wow. Alright.

She grabs the rope and takes a pretty aggressive jump. That's weird. She's planting her feet on the bottom knot. Ok that's a really high arc... what is sh---

SHE JUST DID A FREAKING BACKDIVE OFF THE ROPE SWING THAT'S MY MOM OMG OMG IS THAT MY MOM THAT CAN'T BE MY MOM OMG PEOPLE ARE CHEERING OMG THAT WAS UNREAL

My mom has literally never embarrassed me in my life. How many people can say that? Probably none. Sorry everyone.

I also acquired most of my fiesty-ness from my mom. She once called a lady in our ward and gave her the scariest talking to I've ever heard because she was rude to me after my 5th grade graduation and made me cry. It was awesome.

The thing I've grown to appreciate most about my mom as I've gotten older is that she takes care of herself and retained her own person. She runs every day. She even does Insanity now! As mentioned above, she always looks flawless, never sloppy. No one has ever or will ever accuse her of "letting herself go." She always made it a priority to go on dates with my dad alone every week - a tradition I want to adopt in my marriage when we have kids. She is always making friends and takes time to maintain her friendships. She loves to do hair, so she found a way to do it and still be a "stay at home mom." She reads often, keeps our house immaculate and makes the best bread you will ever eat. You'll never catch her sleeping past 10 on a weekend - because she has too much to do to make her life sparkle.

Your life sparkles just by touching hers. 

And it wouldn't be Mother's Day without mentioning my awesome Mother-in-Law. How I got so lucky to land a MIL that is so kind and welcoming, as well as just so COOL, I'll never know. Kitty made it a point to make me feel welcome in the family from the first moment I met her and I'll never forget that. She texts me about The Office, makes me my favorite delicious cupcakes and nurtures me like I'm one of her own. With so many of my friends around me stressing and complaining about crazy MILs, I have to quietly smile to myself. I don't want to rub it in their faces that not only is my MIL normal, but she's someone I WANT to spend time with whenever I can.

Love you Moms!

Sometimes, Always, Never - Vegas the Mormon Way

I remember my first trip to Las Vegas - The lights! The color! The boobs! As a 6 year old I was particularly impressed with the enormous castle - Excalibur.

Even better I remember my single ladies trip to Las Vegas with my bestie Katie, who had never been.

"There is PORNOGRAPHY LINING THE STREETS!"


As a Mormon, Vegas can be a scary place with the boobs, butts and general grossness.  You can't go to clubs, you can't drink, you can't gamble, why even go? I'll tell you how and why YOU can do a Mormon Vegas Vacation.


The Beard and I decided to use an expiring voucher we had for 2 free nights at a Vegas hotel over Spring Break. We haven't been on a trip just the two of us since we've been married (over a year and a half! Thanks a lot Larry H Miller. We don't miss you), so we leaped at the chance.

My parents graciously agreed to watch Glen Coco, although after he marked EVERY territory in their house I doubt they'll have him back. And we were off! (Listening to Harry Potter audiobooks, obvs.)

This is how he likes to ride in the car - wedged between Ryan and the backrest

My Travel/Vacation uniform - black skinnies (Old Navy), gray v-neck (Gap), chambray top (F21), tortoise sunnies (Cotton On) and flipflops (Pac Sun)

Without further ado, here is my Sometimes-Always-Never for a Mormon trip to Las Vegas!

Sometimes

• Try out a piano bar! We went to Napoleon's in the Parisian and saw the dueling piano act. It's free, although they expect you to get drinks. A $3 can of Diet Coke was a bit ridiculous, but the dueling pianos were pretty awesome. They even take requests! Be prepared for a lot of Neil Diamond and people getting stupid drunk
• Walk through hotels/casinos. Even if you don't gamble or aren't staying there, those hotels are amazing! My favorites are the Parisian, New York New York, Caeser's Palace and now the Cosmopolitan! It's new and incredible.
• See a show, but make sure you read some reviews. I've always wanted to see a Cirque show, but I've heard a few of them can be a little racy. Many of the shows in Vegas are, so be selective. 
• Check out the LDS Temple! We didn't have time to drive out to it when we were there and I really wished we could have gone! Next time. :)

 Always

• Walk the Strip. There is no better people watching in the entire world. Pick a small section or marathon through the whole thing. Just walking with no real destination is hilarious, because you'll see yahoos like Bumblebee just chillin'. 

• While you're at it, see the free shows! The Bellagio Fountains, Atlantis inside Caeser's Palace and the pirate show outside Treasure Island.
• Also while you're at it, get some of the limitless candy at the Sugar Factory. That's all I should need to say. 

•  Plan for and try a fancy restaurant. The Beard saw Hash House a Go Go on Diners, Drive-ins and Dives (one of our faves) and fell immediately in love with their enormous Chicken n' Waffles, Meatloaf sandwich and more. He's wanted to go ever since, so we planned it into our trip and budget. It made it way more fun than just grabbing a quick, cheap bite somewhere, because we looked forward to it and it was AMAZING. Really. 

• Wear something edgier than you can wear at home because - duh- its Vegas! I went with leather leggings and a skull tee since I can't ever wear those to school. Well, and maintain some degree of respect. :)

It was late. That's my only excuse for this washed out face. 

Did I do my hair at all this trip? It's a vacation. No. 

• Plan for everything to be overpriced. Vegas is where you go to splurge, not save. If you are budgeting, bring your own snacks and drinks for the hotel room.

Never

• Wear heels on the Strip, or when you have no idea what your night will be like. I even wore my trusty, comfy wedges, and I've worn flat boots before, and my dogs were barking before the night was up. 
• Take or look at the fliers and pamphlets being waved in your face. Trust me. Just pretend they don't exist.
• Get a smoking room. Vegas smoking rooms are worse than smoking rooms anywhere else. It's like secondhand-smoke nation up there.
• Stay on the Strip past 1 am. That's when the funny to crazy ratio on the Strip gets really scary.

The Pitz

Easter had a very special meaning for me this year - probably more than it ever has before.

This year it meant so much to me because I feel like I finally, truly understood how much I need the Atonement. A desperate need. Because I was in the bottom of The Pit.

I've always been a "good girl." Read my scriptures. Went to church. Paid attention in Sunday School and seminary. I really tried hard to develop my testimony and do what was right. But for whatever reason, I always kind of knew I wasn't "converted." I knew I'd be a lifelong member - don't get me wrong - but I didn't feel like I was that bad of a person, didn't feel like I needed the church or repentance or anything like that. I prayed out of habit and never really expected anything in return.

Last Sunday, a week before Easter, I woke up feeling absolutely worthless, with no real cause. I can't really explain it, but I just had this tangible clarity. I saw myself as I really was. Every bad thing I've done. Every stupid thing I've said (and you could fill books longer and more numerous than the works of Tolkien with them). Even worse, all the embarrassing moments and things about me that just make me cringe.

I'm just not a good person. I'm simply not. Even when I'm trying to be, it seems fake and shallow, which is why so many people see through it. I'm so arrogant. Such a know-it-all. I think I'm invulnerable and perfect. I just try so hard to be liked and included. When I'm not, I just point the finger back at them while still striving to win their approval. No wonder they don't like me. Why would they? I'm nothing if not entirely self-serving.

To sum it all up, I felt worthless. Absolutely worthless. And the worst part? These terrible things about me aren't usually conscious choices, but ingrained facets of my personality and unhealthy habits. For the first time ever I saw myself as "The Natural Man." I have never felt so humbled and scared.

One of my favorite parables of the Atonement is the natural man who digs himself a hole with every bad decision, every mistake, always believing that he has the power, in and of himself, to save himself - to get out of that hole. Eventually, he realizes that his hole is now a pit, and he can't stop digging, let alone get out on his own. No ladder is tall enough. No man-made way out. After an impassioned plea, the only one who can save him, The Savior, appears and lifts him from his hopeless state.

That's where I was. Annoying Danica. Prideful, worldly, snarky, hypocritical Danica. At the bottom of that pit, hopeless. My mistakes span decades. I've squandered so many opportunities to be a good teammate, a righteous example, a faithful friend, an encouraging big sister, a helpful daughter and an optimistic social media user. I've been so fake and so really awful. My shortcomings so totally outweigh my righteous intentions.

"How can I fix those years of being the worst? Even if I could fix these awful mistakes, which I don't intentionally make and have no idea how to change, there's no way my family and friends can change their opinions of me now, not after years of me being so obnoxious. Where do I go from here? Burn everything and start over?" I asked to no one in particular, as I wiped away slow tears.

Then it came so soft and strong, not even from a voice or another person, other than perhaps the Holy Ghost drawing it out of me. It was MY voice, MY head, MY spirit that sat up, after much neglect and ambivalence.

"Obviously, Jesus Christ is your only option. THIS is what all your Sunday School teachers and General Conference talks were referencing. THIS is the Atonement. He is the only one that can erase those mistakes, those embarrassing moments and your every shortcoming. But it works. And it will work for you, too."



I've read about the Atonement. In detail. I've had the awesome EFY Atonement devotional experience. I've testified of my personal knowledge of the Atonement. But until that moment I didn't know that I knew. And I especially didn't know that I needed it so desperately.

But I do know. And I'm so grateful. This week has been so much lighter and better, not JUST because of Spring Break and our awesome vacation (post coming soon), but also because I was so humbled and recommitted to watch myself, repent, try harder, and just to be a better person. I was filled with hope, knowing that His sacrifice covers me and if I do what I need to, I can erase all the stupid stuff I've done.

Those of you who know me in real life - I've done a lot of this stupid stuff to you. You know how insufferable I can be. I know an internet apology really isn't anything at all, but I offer it nonetheless. I'm sorry for being such an obnoxious, hypocritical friend to you all. I do know now what a lame person I am and I'm really going to try to fix it.

Thank you so much for being so good to me anyways. I don't deserve such awesome friends and family, but I am certainly grateful every day for you. I know you are racking up the points in heaven just for being so cool to me when I'm the worst.

So here's to a new me - newer than any New Year, new school year, etc. I'm re-reading all of the October 2012 conference talks to prepare for conference this weekend and studying repentance, forgiveness, true conversion and charity like my life depends on it. Because, really, it does.

Thank goodness for my Savior, Jesus Christ, His magnificent Atonement, the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, my amazing husband who loves me every day and for all of you.

Pants Me

What am I wearing on Sunday? None of your business. Because it isn't a fashion show.

It isn't a private school with mandatory uniforms.

And it definitely isn't a venue for protest.

Do I care the most miniscule amount if you wear pants to church? No. I don't. And neither does anyone else. Except perhaps the really old school people. But they probably also hate that you use your iPhone for scriptures.

And even they don't want you to wear to wear skirts as a sign of submission. NO ONE DOES.

The idea behind "Sunday Best" is showing the Lord that you are dressing your nicest to dedicate time to worship him. If your nicest attire is a classy pantsuit, awesome. AWESOME. Wear it. Bully for you. No one cares. A lady in my ward used to and literally no one cared.

But pants will never be a sign of equality. Wearing pants is not going to mend this false sense of inequality and insecurity you feel in the Church.

The Church does not treat women unfairly. If anything we are actually shielded and protected from some of the tougher and rougher elements of life and responsibility.

If you feel unequal, I'd start taking a look at the people with whom you surround yourself. I don't doubt that there are men (and women) in your life that may treat you as subordinate or look down on you. Maybe even men in positions of authority in the local church.

But how many times do you need to hear that the Church is perfect but the members are not?

How many times do you need to read Alma & Amulek's sermon to the poor and rejected that weren't allowed to worship they way they wanted? (Thank GOODNESS they didn't have the burden of not wearing pants to deal with! Can you imagine?!)

How many times to I need to write snarky, unChristlike blog posts about these ridiculous Mormon fad groups?!!!!!

I'm wearing my nicest skirt to Church on Sunday. If you hadn't guessed.

Russian to Come Home

Last night my cousin came home from her mission in Donestk, Ukraine! Her plane landed at 10:47 pm and a bona fide crazy crowd was gathered to welcome her back to Utah.

 

Me and Jess are the same age and grew up right around the corner from one another. Always in the same ward and schools, our families spending lots of time together, we were close. Even when we attended rival colleges. In fact, I think we became better friends during our college years, despite the Holy War. :)

She left right before I got married, which was a bummer, but we even moved my bachelorette party back a few weeks because I wanted Jess to attend. I was sad to not have her as a bridesmaid, but so proud of her for going on a mission! She surprised us all (well, maybe just me, idk) by declaring that her mission call was coming ("WHAT?! YOU PUT IN YOUR PAPERS?!!!!!" *head explodes* - me) in a week or so.

It was amazing to be there when she opened her call, sort of expecting South America, where her little brother Justin (my sister Brooke's age) was serving in Bolivia, instead seeing the Ukraine

"Russia!" - one of her relatives boldly declared. No. Almost. Close. Used to be. But no. Speaking Russian? Yes.

She put her life on hold to serve in some freezing cold country, learning a crazy freaking language, and became an amazing example to our whole family in the process.

And she's back! This was my first missionary welcoming party ever (Justin's is in 2 weeks!) and it was such a positive experience for me. We patiently (not) waited holding signs and balloons and for some inexplicable reason I started just bawling the moment I saw her on the escalator. It was really her!

Lisa, her mom, naturally got the first hug.

Then the family, including her 15 year old brother Josh who has grown  approximately 10 feet since she left.

Then me! I think I broke one of her ribs.

She seemed shell-shocked, exhausted (27 hours of flights and layovers can do that to you) and overwhelmed. There were a lot of hugs to go around. I'm sure she was relieved when we all finally left her well enough alone.

But man there is just nothing like a fresh missionary. I'm so glad she is home and I'm excited for Justin to get home too! The holidays will be so fun this year with everyone reunited. Also I'm calling that she will be engaged within the year and we won't be the only marrieds on this side of the fam. Calling it.

However. Not so excited about the way this whole event reminded me that little Mitch will be putting in his papers in a month or two. But the sooner he goes, the sooner he comes back. Right?

RIGHTTTTTTTTT?!

National Grandparents Day

Growing up I was so lucky to have both sets of grandparents within biking distance of my house. My friends who had to drive to other states over Thanksgiving Break were so jealous. We could see both families on any given holiday. I've been really close with my grandparents and it's been such a blessing.

Now my grandma Vy is all I have left, and she's the greatest. She works at the temple, gets down to play with her puppy Oscar and does Tai Chi. Allegedly she's the one I'm most like, and we get along really well. She's still got the classiest style for miles and I can only hope I look that good at her age.

My grandpa Harold passed away in the fall of 2008. It was kind of a hard, because I'd never lost a family member before, but also because one of my best friends, Britt Dalley had died right before we graduated that spring. He'd had dementia and Alzheimer's for years, and it wasn't too much of a surprise. I wasn't super close with my grandpa Harold, because I was pretty young and he spent a lot of his time with my older cousins, as he was a professor of psychology at BYU. The hardest thing was seeing my grandma and dad deal with it. I did feel some loss that I wouldn't be able to visit his office on campus or take one of his classes like my cousins.

Only a few months later, out of the blue, my grandpa Stan passed away. I was much closer with him. He lived right around the corner and we lived with him (in the house the Beard and I just vacated) when I was young. My grandpa Stan taught me how to change a tire, and was always encouraged my ambition to go to BYU and maybe even law school. He was a "good ole boy," quiet and hardworking. His death was much harder for me, especially because he was so healthy (we thought) and we spent so much time with them.

My grandma Nancy has always been the closest. We were the best of friends. We spent so much time together even as I got older. She was the first person I called to talk to when I landed back in the US from London. She was such an amazing example of compassion and cheerfulness. She was incredibly racist and old fashioned. She was just the best. For the 2 years she lived after my grandpa Stan passed away, she missed him terribly. She had been very unhealthy and in pain for years and years, and all she wanted was to "move on." So we saw it coming. Her death was probably the least shocking and most peaceful. I was so happy for her.

However, as time has passed since her death I find myself missing her more and more. She never met the Beard but would have LOVED him. She wasn't here to visit when I got my engagement ring. She wasn't at my wedding. I couldn't call her when funny things happened at school my first year of teaching. She won't be there to meet my first child. I wish she could be.

This picture was taken for my cousins Jessica, Justin, and Jake on missions, but I kept thinking it applied to my grandparents too. 

The day before I got married, my mom and aunt Lisa surprised me with a beautiful, delicate opal necklace. They were stones from my grandma, one for each of her granddaughters and my mom and Lisa had them made into these beautiful necklaces for our wedding days. I felt like she was with me and it was so comforting. As we lived in the "Old House" and used her Christmas decorations I felt so close to her and knew she wanted it that way.

You can kind of see the necklace here.

I wore the necklace today and felt really comforted at church when quotes on faith and love warmed my heart. I have been so lucky to have amazing grandparents, and now I have four more because the Beard's grandparents are still with us and remind me so much of both sets of mine.

Grandma & Grandpa Holdaway

I miss my grandparents, especially Grandma Nancy but thank goodness for the Plan of Salvation. I hope they are watching over me, but it also freaks me out. They'd be embarrassed by things that I do (the amount of popcorn I eat, probably) and say (Grandma Nancy probably wouldn't mind the swearing actually). So hopefully they only see the good stuff. :) I'm so glad I know they're happy and I'll see them again or life would be absolutely miserable. Families are forever. How great is that?!

A Non-Gushy Anniversary Post (You're Welcome)

Today is our 1 year anniversary. This time last year we were cutting the cake, throwing my bouquet, retrieving my garter, cramming into the photobooth with my cousins and sucking down Diet Coke between hugs. The best day of my life.

I'm not going to post the million reasons why I love the Beard. Believe it or not, we talk in person regularly, so we actually share that with one another. The internet doesn't really care.

We are going on a small getaway trip next week, so we just spent our anniversary very low key - attending our new AWESOME ward, watching baseball and making delicious fajitas. A very Holdaway Sunday.

I'm just sharing how amazing temple marriage can be. I feel so safe, happy and reassured that the Beard and I have done everything right and now we can be together forever. Hey, if we made it through the first year, we're good to go, right? That's what they say, anyways. :)

"That's LAME." - Ed Budge, My Father

The other day, I was sitting at my brother's baseball game and my dad goes-

"Dan, those shoes are cool." - Ed

"Thanks, Dad!" - Danica

".... Sometimes, Always, Never..." - Ed

I LOLed. And then pondered on the fact that my dad regularly reads my blog, even the girly S-A-N fashion posts, and supports me.

To the man who taught me to love the Chicago Cubs from Day 1

To the man who loves Disneyland more than anything

To the man who spent countless hours with me at the softball fields

To the man who put our family first

To the man who helped me get to the temple (and to the new dad I got in the temple! I have a Chad now too!)

I have always and will always be a daddy's girl. I love you dad! Thanks for being the best. Not LAME.

Positively Amazing

A few weeks ago I picked up Corrie Ten Boom's "The Hiding Place" - an account of her adventures and horrors during the German occupation of Denmark and subsequent travels to Ravensbruck. I've always enjoyed learning about World War II and I wanted to freshen up before my class got to it this week. I thought I'd do a bit of a book review for anyone whose New Years Resolution is to read.

My review: Read it.

You won't regret it. Promise. As I was reading, I was struck several times at how familiar the stories sounded, and then realized that the stories I already knew and had heard in sacrament/Conference talks were HER stories.

For instance, one story in particular illustrates the power of positive thinking, gratitude and prayer. Corrie's sister Betsie is a saint. Just a pure-hearted, loving, charitable saint. She is the one who bears Corrie up when all light seems to dim from the world around them. They are moved into these awful, awful barracks where there are three women to a rough, thin cot and the entire place is teeming with fleas. Corrie, as a normal human being, is skeptical about the hopefulness of the condition. Betsie insists that they must pray in gratitude for EVERYTHING that they have in those barracks.

"Even the fleas?" Corrie asked incredulously.

"Even the fleas," a resolute Betsie replied. So she did. She prayed in gratitude for those fleas.

Weeks later, the German camp directors started running surprise raids on different barracks. Corrie was hiding vitamins for Betsie, a bible and their sister's sweater -- all contraband items in a Nazi work camp. They were terrified that these items would be found and confiscated, and the owners punished mercilessly. The bible in particular was their only solace in their cruel lives.

At the last minute, the guards arrive at the door of the barracks, taking a few steps inside and proclaiming "Fleas! I'm not going in here amongst the fleas!"

The fleas had saved them. The fleas were worthy of gratitude after all.

Along with providing a more realistic view of our cushy daily lives, and an appreciation for the sorrows and suffering of others, this book provides one of the most spiritually reassuring messages I've ever learned.

God is God. And he's everyone's.

It doesn't matter if you are a Jew in the prison camp. Or a Christian sympathizer in the prison camp. Or a Nazi German running the prison camp. Or an impoverished Muslim living in a war-torn refugee camp. Or a Latter-day Saint living in Happy Valley, U.S.A. God truly is no respecter of persons. This book illustrates beautifully the majesty of God's creation of man on earth. He listens to all, invites all, and blesses all.

While I am immensely grateful for the true and only Priesthood on this earth, it is comforting to know that people all over the world are living true principles and that God speaks to them as well. We're all in this together. It's only a matter of time until we're all official.

[P.S. I'm on Goodreads. Come find me.]

Marriage, or the Death of Dessert Parties

Marriage is awesome. Everyone knows that. But sometimes it's painfully obvious HOW awesome it is when you're thrown back into the single world.

Several weeks ago, I had to run up to campus for a meeting with my BYU Education Program peeps. Being on campus kind of made me sick. Not only was I overwhelmed with the general happy anxiety and well-intentioned stress, but the awful singleness. Also, loads of chaste sexual frustration with the opposite sex. When you're single, you don't realize how much stress your life inherently includes. You have to:

1. Look cute so you can attract someone.

2. Be smart to attract someone/keep your scholarship/appease your parents/avoid misusing your student loans.

3. Be active in the Church to attract someone/appease your parents/be a good Mormon.

4. Make a lot of friends to attract someone/be popular.

5. Learn life skills (i.e. Domestic flourish for girls) to attract someone.

6. Attend every single possible event - dessert parties, ward prayer, FHE, BYUSA activities, sporting events - of course to meet and attract someone.

There's just this intense level of optimistic stress that is absolutely exhausting. Always the anxiety of finding someone to study/eat lunch/walk home with. Always the anxiety of making weekend plans or getting another date. Always the anxiety of trying SOOOOO hard to be the cutest, coolest, most righteous (and sometimes fake-st) version of yourself. And there's that sneaky, invisible element of competition. There is no abundance mentality on a college campus.

Being on campus and walking into the library to say hi to my library peeps brought back emotions, just like hearing a song from a sad time in your life making you cry, or a song from the best night ever making you smile. I remember walking into that library annoyed, too much homework, no sleep, hungry and caffeine-deprived, anxious to get off work and meet up with The Beard. I absorbed by osmosis the stress of everyone rushing to get to class, but trying desperately to look approachable. I observed with disgust the excessive PDA of zoob couples.

After my meeting I met up with my friend Jesslyn- our last chance before she went into the MTC (Anaheim, Spanish). She lives in the Mormon Dating Epicenter, commonly referred to as "South-of-Campus." While driving to her apartment, I saw a group of kids gathering for FHE outside a complex. Girls playfully shoving guys, guys constantly readjusting their wayfarer shades and closing digits with various groups of girls. I especially liked seeing girls all dressed up in their cutest outfits (yeah. We can tell when you spent more than 10 minutes on it).

I truly do not mean to insult or offend. This is just the culture. We have all done it. I've done it. (No, I haven't.)

The Beard and I went to the BYU Football game a few weeks ago. I haven't been since I was a freshman and remembered why. It's all BYU Football zealots and freshmen. The ignorant comments and general stupidity was obnoxious. The Beard even yelled at a guy for being disrespectful towards the other team. His date was embarrassed. No awkward doorstep hug for him tonight. But the best part of the game was our newfound love - Photobombing. Freshmen LOVE taking the "myspace pic" (extending your arm up and out to capture the pic, heads together with a funny/sexy/cute face). We love messing it up. With some pretty impressive investigative work (If I do say so myself), I found THIS little beauty on a girl's non-private Facebook page.

You are welcome.

Though I live in Mapleton and don't attend classes on campus anymore, I never feel to far away thanks to my social media. Here are my favorite "Provo" accounts that help me stay close to my roots:

Mormon Girl Probs - Hilarious twitter account that is disturbingly familiar.

Provo All Star - The male counterpart for Mormon Girl Probs. And the source of all Mormon Girl Probs.

NiceTryZoob - Making fun of the "Peter" zoobs we all know and love.

Seriously, So Blessed - Blog mocking young, married Mormon girls. Horrifyingly accurate. Even if it stopped posting in January.

Seen @ BYU - Fantastic Facebook group for those who appreciate the ridiculous things around BYU.

It's fun to hate on BYU culture and the ridiculous dating world. At times it's hilarious, and at times it's incredibly frustrating. But it's all changed for me now.

The overwhelming take-away is that I'm so grateful I found The Beard. I'm so grateful that I no longer have to go out every night of the week, to every FHE (ok, I never went anyway), on every blind date and "Date Box" encounter (THAT is a great story. Maybe I'll share that one soon. You'll LOL for sure).

I don't have to stress that I'm being what someone's looking for. I don't have to kill myself adjusting my hair, makeup and clothes every day (I still do that sometimes. My choice.). I don't have to figure out who someone wants me to be. I don't have to fake it to make it. Dating is over. I have someone who accepts me for who I am, no matter what. Someone who makes me feel more ME than I've ever been. Someone who is completely happy to sit on a couch with me watching Netflix every night of the week. And that's what love is. Boring comfortable familiarity that you can't get enough of.

See ya later, dating. It's been a treat. But not really.

EF- Why?

**Belated Post. My apologies. I was still trying to decide what I was going to do with this Tumblr/Blogger fiasco. I love my blog. I like my Tumblr. I made the executive decision yesterday that this would remain the permanent location for my existential, philosophical detox, while Tumblr will be my spot for my funny links, photos, etc. Facebook is on it's way out, I feel. Who knows. Anyways. Back to a philosophical rant you've all been waiting for.**

Two weeks ago I was an EFY counselor. Some people were surprised, others were less surprised. It was long, exhausting and 100% worth it. Let me tell you why.

Secretly, I've wanted to be an EFY counselor since I went to EFY 50 years ago. {Ok. 4 years ago.} I thought my EFY counselors were rockstars. They were nice, cool, going to college, and were totally outgoing. Not to mention I was greatly impacted by their teaching and bearing of testimony. I knew I would love to do that. I wanted to help youth like they'd helped me.

My first summer of college, I wasn't old enough.

My second summer of college, I went on my Study Abroad instead.

Finally, I had a free summer. No classes, no travel and plenty of perk.

So I applied. In January I had an interview. After some complications with the EFY system, I was finally offered contracts in March, but none that I could accept since my situation changed. I thought I had missed the boat.

Right before Memorial Day, I got an email from EFY asking me if I could fill in for the June 6-11 session in Provo. Yes. I would love to. I hurriedly completed the employment information, read and re-read the handbook and began preparing all my devotionals and lessons. Come Sunday I was excited and well-prepared.

When I showed up for the training session from 3-5, I quickly shrunk to be 2 inches tall. Really. They pounded in our heads how the youth watch our EVERY MOVE, how influential we can be, and how the Lord was relying on us to rescue some of these kids. I felt pretty inadequate. I would have felt much more confident coming right out of high school, when I was meticulous about scripture study, attended every hour of church and had this insatiable need to be the best. Over the past few years I've gotten more lax. I let myself get away with more. I have more fun, and concentrate less on work and spiritual growth. I was truly humbled. I learned a lot in that moment. You can study every scripture reference and conference talk, attend the temple, pray for your kids, and try to be good for 2 weeks straight, but it will never compensate for the righteousness and spiritual power you will gain by consistent good decisions over time. I felt weak and never wanted to feel that way again. Luckily, they tried hard to buoy us up and meeting my awesome Co's - Mike and Amy - made me feel a little better.

Monday morning began bright and early with breakfast and our business meeting. Obviously I LOVED my enormous bright green and purple EFY tees {sorry BYUStylers...}. Don't worry. I'm not going to give you a day-by-day log of activities. Although it is pretty interesting.

Meeting my girls was awesome. It really alleviated stress when I could just feel love for these great girls and knew it would be easier for me to be better. I had a good mix. They were almost all 16, which intimidates a lot of people, but I just love teenagers. Crazy I know.

The week went super fast. I was exhausted. I never slept more than 5 hours a night and had to be perky and physically energetic all day long. We walked all over campus, and it was alternating between sweltering heat and windy chill several times a day. The schedule was jam packed, because they never want to waste a moment of precious time during the week. Every activity is carefully planned to maximize fun AND spirituality, which, amazingly enough, CAN go hand in hand.

By Thursday (the most spiritual day), I was completely exhausted and the kids were starting to bond. I can't explain how amazing it was to see some of my girls get up and bear their testimonies in front of the big group, and several later in our small devotional. If these kids stick to what they know right now, the next generation of the church is going to be absolutely fine. Again, I was humbled and uplifted by their faith for the future.

Friday's dance was super fun, and the "Taking It Home" afterwards really motivated participants and counselors alike to examine their lives, make the hard and scary improvements that we need to, love others and be better. The coolest thing that I learned was the idea of "practice." {Our director was way into sports analogies, which obviously I loved.} He said we should start practicing being the person we'd like to be in the future. When he put it that way, it sounded realistic and far less daunting than an immediate 180 degree switch. I can do a little practice, can't I?

Following "Passion Patrol" - keeping participants from getting too lovey-dovey and physical (yes it's actually called that) - I did our last devotional and then reported for Lockdown Duty. As the last night, post-dance, when no one wants to say goodnight or goodbye, kids try to sneak out. Therefore, counselors on Lockdown Duty are placed strategically to guard halls and doors. We can't go to bed until we have 1 incident-free hour following kids going to sleep. {Everyone made fun of me all week for sneaking in my Diet Coke. Joke's on them. I was 100% alert during Lockdown. Suckas.}

Thanks to some idiot running around Helaman Halls in a wolf costume, I couldn't go to bed until almost 2 am.

Up at 6 to check my girls out, sad to see them go, and then off to our wrap-up meeting. By 9:30 I was home and climbing into bed.

I slept till 4 pm. Yikes.

It was hard getting no sleep. It was hard walking all over the place with a heavy backpack in the hot and cold. It was hard minding my every individual action to be the best example I could for these kids. It was hard being perky and spiritual every waking minute for 5 days straight. It was hard to not see Ryan.

But so worth it.

It was a small price to pay (....and I was getting paid) for the opportunity to spend time with the most amazing youth in the church. I got to spend literally HOURS in the scriptures. I practiced my teaching and management skills (they need some work). I made friends, danced my heart out, and had a blast.