Last week I was in search for some dependable adhesive at an arts and crafts shop. Casually and debonairly I browsed the adhesive isle when a mother and her young teenage son came next to me. The son was really awkward and wouldn't stop whistling. Only he couldn't whistle properly (it was just raspy air flow) and it was driving me insane because he wouldn't stop no matter how bad and how thoroughly annoying it was. Seriously it was driving me nuts and the mother was completely past feeling. Is that what parenthood brings? I was just about to say some snide remark to her like, "He's quite the whistler, isn't he?" But then I heard the kid speak–and it turned out he was handicapped. OH NO!!! I instantly felt so much guilt for having such insensitive feelings towards such a pure kid. I quickly grabbed my glue and left the isle. Later it happened to be that I was in line behind the mother and son. I watched the son chattering away and fiddling with every object he could get his hands on and it quickly became apparent that this kid wasn't handicapped at all–he was just an awkward young teenager.

Hey Guys! It's Christmas Time!

It's crazy how suddenly Christmas is here. It's come so fast that today is the first day I've even listened to Sufjan's Christmas goodness. How sad. I took my last final last Friday morning, then immediately drove to SLC for cousin W's wedding festivities, and when that ended it hit me that I've hardly done anything to prepare for the holiday. And now two days later I can confidently say I'm ready. Hizah.


It's pretty crazy to be at a point in my life where sleeping in the room where I grew up at isn't quite the same as it used to be. My room has no stripes. Just whiteness and my missionary plaque. It is lovely to be sleeping on a mattress that is long enough for me and plus it's super comfy. It's also lovely to be spending more time with my family. They always make me happy–happier than this.

blarby