Baby Jack

I held a little baby this weekend.

I hadn’t held a baby for so long, I forgot how to do it.

He started to cry, I talked to him like an adult.

“No, Jack, none of that.  You need to stop crying.”

He kept crying.  I handed him back.

I babysat every weekend as a teenager, but I still feel clueless about what to do with kids and if I’m doing it right.  A babysitter is not a mother.

I’m only asking this because I’m curious, not because it relates to my life in any way, nor will it relate to my life for a long, long time, but… when you become a mother, do those instincts just kick in?  How do you learn how to hold a baby right?  How do you make him stop crying?  What if those things don’t work?  How come some people seem like they will be perfect mothers and others just don’t have it in them?

And no, Danica, I didn’t catch “The Fever”…

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Safety First

Yesterday I sat down and reached over to put on my seat belt.

But I wasn’t in a car.

I was at my desk at work.

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2 Months

I’ve been married for 2 months, today.

Half of me feels like it has been 2 weeks. Half of me feels like it has been 2 years.

What I’ve learned:

Communication is key.

A husband can’t read their wife’s mind. A wife can’t read their husband’s mind.

Saving money is essential, yet nearly implausible.

Without the gospel, marriage would be impossible.  With it, marriage is bliss.

Oh, and I definitely have the most

amazing, precious, handsome and thoughtful husband

who is perfect for me.

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Good Start to the Day

This morning I took a shower in the back bathroom since the front one is wet with paint. It has 2-in-1 shampoo/conditioner in it.

While I was showering, I was thinking about that 2-in-1 shampoo/conditioner so much (how I haven’t used it in forever, how it actually saves time, how if it has the right proportions inside, etc.).

Then I realized I had started lathering my hair with face wash (like it was conditioner or something) without thinking.

Turns out the 2-in-1 didn’t save me time because I had to wash my hair again after the facial wash.

And now my hair feels very strange.

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Boom. Roasted.

“Well I just wanna take a minute to talk to you all about something very serious. Once every hour, someone is involved in an internet scam. That man is Michael Scott. He’s supporting about twenty Nigerian princesses.”

Actually, that [woman] was me.  Around 11 am today.  And I fell for it.  (Really the scam was over the phone, not on the internet.)

Here’s the story:

When I was engaged, I entered about ten drawings and won about nine of them.  Best luck of my life. Hundreds of people entered these drawings, I just did something magic that I cannot reveal online or else everyone will do it and I won’t win anymore.  It was awesome.  I won pearls, photo shoots, my invitations, and huge discounts.  Once I learned that my little trick was a success, I started entering every drawing I saw at restaurants, malls… you name the drawing, I probably entered it.

Other than a sudden burst of spam in my email account, nothing happened.

Until today.

I checked my phone, I had a voicemail saying, “Hi Katie!  We are so excited for you! You entered a contest at the Cincinnati Prime Outlets and YOU WON A 4 NIGHT CRUISE TO THE CARIBBEAN, ALL INCLUSIVE TRIP INCLUDING AIRFARE!”  I called them back and everyone will just THRILLED that I had called back.  They greeted my call saying, “Oh my gosh, We are so happy for you and pleased to let you know that YOU were the all-time winner!”

They gave me the deets, I was going to have my Dad go pick up the tickets in Cincinnati. It was all set.  My life now was going to be amazing after surprising my husband with tickets for this cruise.

So I called my dad.  I tried to hide my enthusiasm, so the surprise would be even more dramatic.  , “Dad, remember when we all entered that drawing at the outlets?… Well, I won!!!!”

He replied, “Oh yeah? Me too.  An all-inclusive cruise.”

I could tell by his sarcasm that it was a scam and I had been deceived.  I felt so special when they called me.  How could it all have been a scam?  And what are they doing calling everyone?  They promised I didn’t have to buy or do anything to get the tickets.  But apparently they’re calling tons of people and telling them the same thing.  The woman was soooooo nice and happy for me.  But joke’s on me, she is a liar!

And there you have it, ladies and gentlemen.

Boom.  Roasted.

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Bangs.

Can’t live with ’em.  Can’t live without ’em.

Really, having bangs is the worst.  They are always in your eyes.  You constantly have to brush them back.  If you straighten them too much, they don’t lay right.  If you blow dry them too much, they are poofy.

But having them is also necessary.  Without them, my forehead looks too big.  T.J. thinks I look like a baby when they’re pulled back.  And they cover up blemishes (that probably wouldn’t have been there anyway without your bangs).

I remember when I was little (see pic below), I had a boy haircut.  That included bangs and lots of them.  I was always jealous of the girls at school with the long hair, pony tails, and cool french braids their moms would do for them.  All I got was this sad, boyish hair cut.

Gotta love this picture. Whether it's the gourd I'm holding, my ginormous feet, haircut, or girl scout mug, this picture guarantees a nice laugh.

[In fact, I once was mistaken as a boy and another time I was called a boy–

Story #1: Playing hide-and-go-seek at a friends, lots of people there, boys vs. girls, I was put on the boy team until the confusion was set straight and tears were shed.

Story #2: My dad cut off all my hair in 2nd grade because I had lice and Benjamin Angelo told me I looked like a boy.]

Back to the bangs, I remember when I was little and had that haircut, I would always say I wanted my hair to be “one length!”  I just walked around like a zombie saying, “ONE LENGTH, PLEASE ONE LENGTH!”  I was sick of the names, I was sick of looking like a boy, so my mom finally let me grow out my hair.

I’m not sure if you’ve ever tried to do this.  But trying to grow out your bangs is one of the hardest things EVER!  You have to pin your bangs to the side for weeks at a time, constantly brush them to the side, and use a plethora of hairspray.  It was a daunting task.

But it was well worth it.  I no longer was called a boy and my hair was indeed “one length.”

Well, I currently am trying to do the same thing.  Now that my hair is getting a little longer, I want my bangs to get a little longer and to do more of a swoop thing.  But trying to get them to stay to the side is awful!  Last night I slept with a barrette in my hair all night, hoping it would help, but they still are straight across my eyes this afternoon.  It’s gonna take a long time…

Maybe I should just cut my hair to look like my good ol’ days.

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I’m sure you’ve already seen this, but I still want to blog about it.

I work at the Harold B. Lee Library.  I’ve worked here for about 2 and a half years, which, in this time, has created my undying love for the HBLL and the LAO.

Well, I’m sure you’ve already seen this YouTube video because everyone and their dog has posted it on their Facebook profile about ten times.  But, I have to post it on here too because of my love for the library.

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2ArIj236UHs&hl=en_US&fs=1]

It was not created by my department, but done by the media productions lab on the 6th floor of the library (yes, there’s a 6th floor of the library) with the help of a HumorU student.  I wish I could take credit for it, but at least my claim to fame is that I work at the HBLL here at BYU!

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nos•tal•gic

nostalgic |näˈstaljik; nə-|adjective- characterized by or exhibiting feelings of nostalgia

I have a coworker who is an incoming Freshman.  I talked to her about living on campus, going to all the events and games, moving away from home, fun classes to take.  And after the long talk, I felt nostalgic.

I’m a Senior.  I have two semesters left, college is almost over.  Where did all the time go?

I remember a few days before I left for BYU my freshman year, my mom said the cheesiest thing ever.  But it apparently stuck with me.  I was hanging out with a few friends in the basement and she stuck her head in the room, crying, and said,

“I wish I could bottle up this laughter and save it for ever.”

Wow, that is disgustingly cheesy, but mom’s are allowed to say those things, right?

Well, now that college is wrapping up with just less than a year left, I want to “bottle up” all the memories I’m having and save them for later, because getting old just sounds miserable.

During my Freshman year, my mom told me I needed to write everything down in my journal so I could remember it all later and I, stupidly, replied,

“But Mom, I don’t want to remember these times.”

What an ignorant remark.  Here I am nostalgic, and the more I dwell on it, homesick, and a few years ago I told my mom I didn’t want to remember these memories?

As Michael Scott would say,

“Well well well, how the turntables…”

Anyway, to help cope with my nostalgia and save a few memories forever, here are a few pictures of my time here at BYU.

[slideshow]

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Big Girls [do] Cry

I am very particular about the way I wash, dry, fold, and hang my clothes.

I am a loyalist to Tide-original scent.  It costs an arm and a leg, but it’s worth every scent because your clothes always smell like fresh cotton laundry and are as clean as the day you bought them.

I obsessed with dryer sheets, I throw in at least two per cycle.  I like my clothes soft, and a few extras never hurt.

I am careful about what I hang and what I dry.  (This is where the real story begins.) I always put my jeans in the dryer because they generally loosen up after I wear them, plus I like how soft they are after a nice ride in the dryer.  But lately, they’ve been fitting a little snug.  So, to combat that revolting process, I decided to hang them up.

Bad news bears.  Stiff jeans not only feel incredibly awful, but they also are a recipe for disaster.

So, I have this old pair of jeans.  Dark wash, perfect fit with a little stretch.  I always take care of them with my Tide detergent and dryer sheets.  I loved them so much I even bought a second pair back a few months ago, but the second pair just wasn’t the same.

Well this great pair of jeans was one of the unlucky ones that were hung up in agony. And unfortunately, that act led to its death this morning.

The crispy denim scratched my dry Utah skin as I put one leg inside.  I continued putting my other leg into the pants and, for some reason, some awful reason, my pants ripped. Oh, it wasn’t just a little hole down where no one see and where I could pretend the rip didn’t exist.  Nope. It just had to be a rip that started at the crotch and went half way down to the knee.

Needless to say, I got very emotional and threw a little tantrum (good thing TJ wasn’t there to see it). And although acting out like a child did ease the pain, I’m still quite bitter about the entire situation.

Why didn’t I just dry the pants and stick to my normal routine?

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New Job: Typer? Typist? Typing Woman?

THIS JUST IN…

I was just asked if I would be interested in listening to a WW2 Veteran tell stories about his life and the war, then typing everything up for him and his wife.  He is 98 years old and my first assignment is to have him fill in the gaps of a WW2 Headquarters video.

How amazing is this going to be?  I immediately jumped at the opportunity and said yes. It’ll just be a few hours a week, with a pretty reasonable pay.

I am so excited to hear his stories and to be able to interview him!  More about this later.

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