Pretty in Peach

When I found out that the ward was having a spring formal, I immediately thought that the solution was to buy the most hideous dress I could find. After all, I've done the whole Prom/Homecoming thing, and I didn't care to do it all over again. High school was great, but once was enough.

One Saturday, the roomies and I headed to Deseret Industries and I found it: a "gargeous arange farmal from the carner of narth-west Arem." It was pleated, it had billowy sleeves, shoulder pads, and it was peach. My least favorite color. It was perfect.

I showed my dress to my date prior to dance, just so he could be prepared. He took it surprisingly well. Kudos to him for being a great sort of person like that. He even decided that he would play along and found a tweed suit jacket with suede elbow pads. Needless to say, we were to most stunning couple at the dance.

That is until I realized three-quarters of the way through the night that you could still see through the skirt of my dress despite the fact that I was wearing white tights and two different slips.

I'm still pretending that I had no idea.

Oh What Do You Do in the Summertime?

It feels like spring today, and I had three too many layers on when I went running this morning.

I have been trying to decide what to do for the summer, and I can't for the life of me come up with a good solution. To have a job or to not have a job, that is the question. No, it's not even a question, rather a matter of luck. February is almost over, and I still don't have a job. I feel a little (a lot) like a failure, but we must press on!

As I was telling my sister (and my mother, and my other sister, and my roommates, and my friends) the other day, I have a limited but various array of solutions for my summer.

1. One of my lifetime goals is to be an EFY Counselor, and I have been trying to apply for the past month, but for some reason, the BYU website doesn't want me to be a counselor. If I ever figure out how to apply, I will do so. I would be an counselor for the entire month of June. So that takes care of June at least. I get out of school in April...next semester begins in September...I guess two weeks of July would be spent at family reunions and the 24th of July, but that still leaves me with May and August.

2. I could move home and help my mom in the garden and scrape the popcorn from the ceilings and...As much as I would like to be home to do these great things, I don't think my parents really want me living at home for four months with not much else to do but scrape ceilings and pull weeds.

3. Find a good job and stay in Provo for the summer. Ah, Provo in the summer. It sounds heavenly.

4. THE ULTIMATE SOLUTION: I will find a job next week, which pays more than $7.00 and hour, and they will just love me because I'm fun and a hard worker.They will say, "Kelly, you are such a good worker, how about you work for us from now until the end of May, then take off June and July to do EFY and reunions and all those things you love to do in the summer, and then come back in August and stay with us until you finish college."

If it was only that simple.

Valentine

I did get asked to be someone's valentine this year.

Unfortunately, he's on a mission.

Elder U. asked me to be his valentine in his most recent letter, but he said he would only validate the offer if the letter he sent was received before or on Valentine's Day.

I wrote back:

"I don't know if I can answer your valentine's question.

1. You won't get my answer back until after Valentine's Day, so even if I did say yes, it would be pointless.

2. I don't think missionaries can have valentine's.

3. Do Guatemalans celebrate Valentine's Day?

4. I hate Valentine's Day.

Ask again next year, Elder."

Was that wrong or was that right?

No matter.

Happy Valentine's Day!

Freshman Folly/ Dear John

Earlier this week, as I walked into ASL 102, I noticed that the girl I frequently sit next to, who is normally quite sedate, was unusually chipper. I acted natural, and casually asked her how she was.

Small talk you know.

She responded enthusiastically, "Great! I just got a boyfriend three days ago!"

I'm the sort of girl who gets excited when others are excited, so I bounced around in my seat and asked for all the juicy details.

"Well," she said, "his name is [insert preferred name here] and I just like him so much. But he's getting his mission call in two weeks and then I will have to send him off for two years! But I like him so much and I'm so happy!"

Class began and I reminisced about that freshman-in-college naivety, that gleeful feeling of being liked by a cute, dorky, pre-mission boy. But then inside I laughed.

Oh how young we all once were. Oh how unknowing and unsuspecting. We looked at the world through rose-colored glasses and expected the best of every one and every situation. There was no reason for things to end poorly because the whole world was our oyster.

I hate that metaphor. Who eve likes oysters?!

I'm not judging this little freshman. In fact, I almost think it's cute. Almost. I just think that if I had the knowledge I have now when I was her age, a lot of things would have been different.

As I wrote that sentence, my Inner-Skeptic said, "Oh, please. You're only twenty. You think that makes you wise?"

Inner-Optimist: "I'm almost twenty-one!"

Skeptic: "Do you remember this post?"

Optimist: "What about it? I think it's cute in a dorky kind of way."

Skeptic: "Three missionaries? You sent off three missionaries. May I remind you that the two years are nearly up. You're losing time. They all come home this year. Not to mention the fact that you have since then added to the original list of three."

Optimist: "How many were there again?"

Skeptic: "Too many I care to count. You make me sick."

Optimist: "Don't you mean that we make us sick? What do we do now?"

Skeptic: "What is there to do? You got yourself into this mess, you have to get yourself out."

Optimist: "Don't you mean that we got our-self into this mess?"

Skeptic: "Stop that. Anyways, you aren't the same girl you were when those boys left you know. You actually liked the idea of having a boyfriend when they all left."

Optimist: "I like the idea of having a boyfriend...in movies."

Skeptic: "Those boys will be on the "wife-hunt" when they get home. None of them will want to marry you if you don't even want a boyfriend."

Optimist: "Is that so bad?

Skeptic: "Yes. Your problem used to be dating too much, now you don't date at all. You can't get married if you don't date."

Optimist: "I'm only twenty!"

Skeptic: "Almost twenty-one. Spinsterhood is on the horizon. You've got to get back into game mode. You need to start running more often and maybe actually doing your hair in the morning. No more weekends watching Pride and Prejudice and eating popcorn for dinner."

Optimist: "You're not my mother!"

Skeptic: "Our mother would say the same thing. Now go running."

Optimist: "After I finish this post."

A covert letter from my Inner-Optimist to the missionaries. Don't let my Inner-Skeptic find out.

Dear Elders (Jacob, Zach, David, Chris, Jordon, Preston, Jason, Elliot, Russell, and Brad),

I'm proud of you all for giving such faithful service for these past two years. I'm lucky to know all of you. Do you think you could ask your mission presidents for extensions?

Love Always,

Kelly Marie

Just for your information, I probably made up half of those missionaries' names. Probably.

Enter to Learn, Go Forth to Serve

Do you remember when I used to complain and complain and complain some more about having to come to BYU and live in a frozen wasteland and live around all these Mormons?

Yeah, I feel bad about that.

I recently experienced a major change of heart. I think this change has been building up for a while, and now I'm not too proud to admit it.

I love it here. I actually do.