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Who April wedded it best?

Will and the duchess?

Or the Walters?

Happy Anniversary, Stephen Dear.

And for those of you not a part of royalty or my marriage, Happy Friday. Enjoy:

incredible slippers

I haven't had many run-ins with the police. I'm fairly law abiding, so I'm not usually on their radar, both literal and figurative. But we're not all perfect, and some times we forget that our car needed to be inspected three months ago and sometimes we get pulled over. I got pulled over. Since I've had so few interactions with the men in uniform, I wasn't really sure what to do. And as it turns out, neither did Mr. Officer. It was honestly 15 of the strangest minutes of my life. 
Officer: "Hey. Thanks for pulling over."
Me: "Um, yeah. Sure."
Officer: "I just had to pull you over because blah blah blah (something about inspection)."
Me: "Ok."
Officer: "May I please see your license and registration?"
I handed him the needed documents.
Officer: "Is this still your address?"
Me: "It's my parents. I'm recently married." I didn't tell him recent meant a year ago.
Officer: "Being married is the greatest. It's like dating but you hang out more."
Me. Nervous laugh. "Yeah."
Officer: "Ok I just need to record some information. Will you be ok here?"
Me: "Um, yes. I'll be fine."
Officer: "Are you sure?"
Me: "Yeah."
So I waited, he handed me a ticket, making sure that I knew how to get a ten dollar reduction, and I drove away very confused. I think maybe he was trying to make friends? It had been a long, lonely day on the motorcycle, and he just needed someone to talk to? Which is fine, but pulling me over wasn't really the best way to get to know me.
Or maybe once again, my 15 year old looking face really threw him off, and he thought I was young and fragile and would not handle getting pulled over well. LIke I might burst into tears at any moment.
Or maybe he was just a weird dude.

sell a used car to your grandmother

My dog is smarter than I am. He also has greater organizational skills and self control. I'll give Ollie a treat and I assume that he eats it. But the other day I learned that Ollie sometimes hides the treat under the bed, and saves it for when he's hungry later. Never once, in my entire life, have I been handed a treat and thought "You know, I would really enjoy this more later when I'm not quite so full." Every time I'm handed a treat, I eat it immediately, then search for more. And if I ever were disciplined enough to save a cookie, cupcake or brownie for later, the chances of me remembering were I hid it are slim. Very slim.

In further celebration of Anniversary Week:



I can't find the official video. But the point is, Stephen is skinny and we've lasted a year (almost). Skinny love. duh.

when the company goes public

Congratulations are in order. After years of hard work, someone finally noticed.  Yesterday my boss presented my with the above tumbler, and said there was no one else who deserved it more. He's right. It would be extremely difficult to find anyone as passionate about or as committed to a beverage as I am to Diet Coke. There are a whole buch of modifier issues in that sentence that I am choosing to ignore.  But I can't take all the credit for my accomplishments. I'd like to thank Mom, for placing her Big Gulps in the cupholder that I could reach from the back seat of the car and steal sips without her noticing. That one babysitter that one time who believed me when I said I was allowed to have Diet Coke as  six year old. Raj, at 7-11, for the discounted fountain drinks and the occasional candy bar thrown in for free with my purchase. Stephen, for reminding me how horrible all my past attempts at quitting have been. Each mission companion, for only rolling their eyes every time I said it was time for another Coke Light. And finally, my coworkers, for keeping the fridge stocked with my aspartame-filled beverage of choice at all times. You have all made me who I am today, an addict, a lover, and a caffeinated fiend. Thank you.

I like that

It's going to be a nostalgic week, folks.

We're closing in on a full year of marriage. It's weird that we've been married long enough to have mustard in the fridge that is too old to eat. It's weird that we have a fridge. And an apartment. And a dog. I mean, obvisouly, I'm glad we have all those things, well maybe not the old mustard, but you get it. It's just still surreal that I'm a wife with a husband, and we as husband and wife have a  photo on our ward bulletin board. It's surreal after nearly a year. Is that normal? Or do I have prolongedsurrealismosis?  Is there a medication for that?

to your face

Imagine you're throwing a party. Your guests seem really great. Very polite and very complimentary.  It's December so they offer the season's greetings freely. "We wish you a Merry Christmas," they say. "And a Happy New Year," they add. They mention something about good tidings, not only to you but your kin as well. And you're thinking, "these are the best party guests ever." But then something goes wrong. It's starts with that one sly guy who you knew you really shouldn't have invited, Apparently he has a craving. "Now bring us some figgy pudding," he insists. The others join in, "Now bring us some figgy pudding," they demand. "Bring it right here," they yell. And then it gets really bad. "We won't go until we get some!" that horrible neighbor with all the cats yells. It's already 10:30, you're exhausted, you have a sink full of dishes, and you're ready for these people to leave. And now you have to make figgy pudding? Where do you even buy figs? And then how do you turn those figs into pudding? Is it like a souffle? Because those never turn out right. You scramble through The Joy of Cooking, find the recipe, replace figs with raisins (they'll have to get over it). Thirty minutes later begrudgingly dish thirty bowls of figgy pudding, watch your "friends" devour your makeshift treat, then you push them out of your now destroyed home. "We wish you a Merry Christmas!" they say, "AND A HAPPY NEW YEAR!" You scream as the door slams shut.

Oh Kevin, that's a lovely tribute