I Left My Fork in San Francisco

Yesterday I made my favorite Italian vegetable casserole. It has roasted peppers, onions, basil, tomato, and zucchini. I drizzled the vegetables with red wine vinegar and olive oil. I topped it off with colorful pasta and mozzarella cheese.

Today we have leftovers. I just warmed some up in a microwave on campus. I climbed two flights of stairs in the JKB to find a secluded bench in a hallway where I plan to finish writing up a blog post for the BYU MBA blog and eat my warm lunch.

I look for my fork. I keep looking for my fork.

It's not in my backpack.

What's this? My good friend Trevor walks down the hall. We small talk. I tell him I forgot my fork as he piles mounds of ravioli from a bowl in his hand onto his fork and stuffs it in his mouth.

"You carn gor to the Wirlk," he says with his mouth overflowing with food, "they harb forks there."

Wow. He didn't even offer me his fork.

"I think I will, even though it's far away. There is no way I can eat my pasta without a fork," I reply.

He continues to walk down the hall until he turns the corner and is out of sight. I pull out my tupperware and take off the lid. There is no way I am walking all the way to the noisy Wilk to get a fork. Trevor is gone. Nobody is around. So there I was eating my lunch with my hands. It was perfect.

Then Trevor wanders by again. He doesn't notice me eating with my hands but I still feel like I need to explain myself.

"Trevor. I am eating with my hands, and I'm okay with that." I explain nervously, thinking that he may not buy my lame excuse for having no dignity.

He just laughs and walks off.

I am eating with my hands. I am okay with that.

I won't tell you whether or not I washed my hands because I like to let my readers be creative.

The Best Day

Here is Phillip's version of our wedding day in the worst possible grammar (this was the assignment for his advanced writing class). It's very touching.

ps. Phillip had to write with poor grammar on purpose--that was the assignment. In reality, he is one of the best writers I know.

At the present time, my best day would probably have to be when the ringing of the wedding bells came and the marriage of I and my wife found a beginning. On this day, although not only on this day, there were a lot of smiles, a lot of laughs, and a lot of happy tears of joy. With regard to the anticipation for the big day, nothing had before been, nor has since been, nor likely will have been, worse. The night before the event was a sleepless one, owing, as it were, to the nervous and happy thoughts which were, at the time, in a state of disarray and confusion in my head, leaving me without rest. But there exists in the human body a need for sleep, and so it was with me that night. Breakfast was hastily consumed after alertness was achieved. A great deal of things had the potential to have happened in a manner detrimental to the joyous proceedings of the momentous day, but as luck would have it there was only one such event that was fated to have occurred: upon arrival at the temple, the location-to-be of the wedding, the discovery was made that the recommend of my mother had been left at the house. Upon the timely conclusion of the aforementioned setback, the proceedings which have been previously referenced continued in all their joyousness.

It is of no stretch of the imagination to say that, truly, the saying could have been given, by whoever initially gave it only with regard to the occurrence of the matrimonial ceremony, that ‘truly, these were times never to be forgotten.’

Don't Get the Wrong Idea

I want a Mom haircut and I want it bad.

Let me explain.

When a non-mom steps into the realm of motherhood her love for her baby overpowers her love for her hair and before you know it some 8-inches of hard earned hair are gone. The new style is a between the chin and shoulders length (or even above your chin if you had a really hard labor experience). It's new, sleek, and looks clean and professional as if to say, "I manage a family of three and I look great."

I want to feel that way too.

I know what you might be thinking right now so let me make this as clear as possible--no estoy embarazada. The fact that I like to wear loose blouses that could double as maternity clothes probably doesn't help either. That's beyond the point. They're just really comfortable. That's also beyond the point. I just want short hair.

Anyway, I haven't found the fresh courage to go chop my hair off just yet. I have to weigh the pros (maybe it will look awesome, maybe I won't have to use so much shampoo) and cons (maybe it will look terrible, maybe people will think I am expecting--how would I give back all the baby gifts!?)

Maybe I'll just do it.

I think I'll keep wearing my loose shirts and get a sexy Mom haircut. Maybe I can get me some presents.