It's a...

Well, we weren't going to find out. We woke up the day of the appointment with a firm anti-findyouty conviction. It wasn't until we were sitting in the waiting room that I began to question our decision. Kind of like when you're fasting, without a very specific purpose, and someone offers you some pizza. Ben was rather a devil to my waxing hunger.

Ben: "Let's just do paper-rock-scissors. If you win, we don't find out. If I win, we do."
Me: "Right. I mean, let's just do this the mature way."
Ben: "Best out of five."

Ben won. Rock crushes scissors. But I wasn't willing to accept the defeat. "No, no, no." They called us back. My tummy was house of butterflies. Ben gave me the one-eyebrow-up, what's-it-gonna-be? look. Before I could think, we were in the dark room, I was laying on the bed, the jelly was on my belly. The ultrasounder lady flashed past the privates region, and... "I saw that," I said. "It's a boy!" said the lady. "Oops," I said, looking over at Ben, who was too busy wetting himself to take notice of me, or my crumbled convictions.

That night, Ben pulled out his old trucks and trains and began to polish them with nostalgia in his eyes. I began sewing a pair of slippers for the baby. We're very happy. And as for the broken fast... well... there's always next fast Sunday.

Observations...

I noticed something today that I think is quite interesting to say the least. My observations of people here on the BYU campus have changed dramatically without my noticing. Its almost as if I've been away on holiday or something and only today returned to find things not the way I left them!
After a particularly good church history lesson, I left the Joseph Smith building and started the trek across campus to my Arabic class. As I walked I seemed to be surrounded by strangers...which, is absolutely normal. But today was different because of how I felt being surrounded by them. On a typical day for me on campus surrounded by strangers, all of the gentlemen seem to have spent more time on their hair than my sisters did in high school. Its usually all I can do to keep myself from pushing them to the ground just to see their reaction at getting dirt on their perfectly placed rustic-authentic-vintage-retro-prewarn (by machine or third world child only, not by actual physical labor by the owner) jeans. Normally the girls all over campus are covered from top to bottom in credit card-sized cell phones, hair extensions, layers of make-up, gargantuan sunglasses with matching hoop earrings, or furry moon boots all in an attempt to look as if they were some sort of unreachable object not in any way human at all. But today things were different. It all began when I was passed on the sidewalk by a new-made-to-look-old cruiser bike ridden by a young man who had clearly spent more time assembling his outfit than I have on homework this entire semester. After he passed, I walked into a different world. The crowd I was surrounded by wasn't the normal herd of brown and orange guys or bridezillas-to-be, they were--for lack of a more unrighteously judgmental term--math majors. Thats right, they were me in junior high school. Awkward and lanky, trying desperately to look cool, but beginning to find confidence in who they are. They are the "Sword and Quill" club occasionally seen prancing about a tent on the quad dressed in medieval attire. They are the pale of skin, the parted of hair, the unsure of step. Their paleness comes not from a cute natural genetic combination (like Eirene's), their's is the result of endless hours in a dark room lit only by a computer screen. They are products of Zelda and 9th grade orchestra. And here's the kicker, I felt perfectly comfortable in their presence. Unlike the discontent and constant mistrust felt during countless days of being surrounded by the vain "danglies" of BYU, I felt as if I didn't have to act or impress these calculus-loving Harry Potter readers. Even in my dirty old work clothes I could walk among them without thinking twice about all of the eyes glancing at my bibs. I could breath easily, walk confidently, if not proudly to my class.
I know what anyone who reads this must be thinking...he's one of them! That would only make sense, right? If I feel so comfortable, than I am obviously among mine own. Well, here is why I think that is wrong. Firstly, just as I want to throw mud on an American Eagle model, I want to hand a shovel to one of the computer science wizards. I would like to distribute calluses equally among both group's creepily soft hands. Secondly, I would effectively kill a conversation about both dungeons and dragons and lacrosse in a matter of seconds. Also, I am every bit as inept at math as I am at being mindful of how presentable I look. I think the real reason I felt comfortable today lies beyond the exterior judgments and stereotypes I've laid out. It has to do with the motivations I felt from these diverse people by the way they presented themselves. From one group I felt an air of downright wicked pride. An attitude of "you don't have and can't have what I have." Not that I am not guilty of putting out that same vibe, because I'm sure I have done or do at times. However, the other groups "vibe" was more of a "yes, I acknowledge you are wearing dirty bibs, but I realize I'm not exactly the prom king either" thing. It was almost as if even though they didn't know how to accept me, they were willing to just because they know through experience what it is like to not be accepted. Further still, they've quit trying to be accepted by others, and focus now on things and people that bring them joy. That felt good.
Again, I've just admitted to unrighteously judging pretty much everyone around me. But that only goes to show, we're all trying to figure this thing out together, and none of us are perfect.

Ben

Carryin' the Banner

Due to the fact that there are about 408 other things I should be doing right now, I have decided to post on my blog. Sorry to wax newsy, but that's what you get when you rarely update, people.
News, in no particular order of importance:
1. Mae is crawling, and pulling herself up on things.
2. We are moving into a little house of our very own.
3. Ben is crawling, and pulling himself up on things. And studying Arabic.
4. In our new house, we get to paint however we want.
5. I'm expecting another baby!
6. The new house has hard wood floors.
7. Still expectin'. Due August 14.
8. My babies will be 15 months apart!!
9. We got an iPod for Christmas.
10. I may or may not need to be baking between 10 to 30 cupcakes right now.

Fat Geese and Crafternoons

Christmas is coming. The goose is looking like it could really lose a few. Please to put a penny in the old man's... okay, okay.

Christmas makes me nauseous. In a good way. I mean, Christmas makes me feel like I'm going to throw-up, but from excitement, and not revoltion. It's kind of like falling in love once every year. But the past few days, I've felt kind of slumpy. Yesterday, I had this bizarre chain of thoughts: I love Christmas. I am so excited. I have so much to do. So much to make. What am I going to do when it's all over? I'll have nothing to do. Nothing to make. Nothing to be excited for. What will I live for? What will I look forward to? I hate Christmas. You fall in love, and than your lover leaves you. Every year it's the same. But aside from these few and embarrassing bouts of stupidity and drama, I really love this magical season. Really.

I've been meaning to post these pictures for ages, but haven't gotten around to it. Was too busy watching Pride and Prejudice multiple times. And crafting. Mrs. Darcy, Mrs. Darcy, Mrs. Darcy. Sorry, what?

Fat Geese and Crafternoons

Christmas is coming. The goose is looking like it could really lose a few. Please to put a penny in the old man's... okay, okay.

Christmas makes me nauseous. In a good way. I mean, Christmas makes me feel like I'm going to throw-up, but from excitement, and not revoltion. It's kind of like falling in love once every year. But the past few days, I've felt kind of slumpy. Yesterday, I had this bizarre chain of thoughts: I love Christmas. I am so excited. I have so much to do. So much to make. What am I going to do when it's all over? I'll have nothing to do. Nothing to make. Nothing to be excited for. What will I live for? What will I look forward to? I hate Christmas. You fall in love, and than your lover leaves you. Every year it's the same. But aside from these few and embarrassing bouts of stupidity and drama, I really love this magical season. Really.

I've been meaning to post these pictures for ages, but haven't gotten around to it. Was too busy watching Pride and Prejudice multiple times. And crafting. Mrs. Darcy, Mrs. Darcy, Mrs. Darcy. Sorry, what?

I VOTED

Ah, election season. Warm greetings in your mailbox, a cup of hot cocoa or wassail shared with a friend, rosy cheeked children singing carols of hope in the street. Wait a doggon second! Wrong season, right? Actually no. Not if you elect "write-in" candidate Howard Stone for Provo City Council! Let me share a few favorite selections from his flier. (Please note that the quotation marks and the bolding are "Not" added, but appear in the original document)

Hello, I'm Howard Stone. I'm really no one of "Consequence," but an average citizen just like you... In an act of "Faith" I've made myself available to "Work" for "Our Community"...we are not communicating. I think we feel "Divided and Conquered"...We must make our community a "Refuge" We must not let attitudes of "Apathy" and "Complacency" overwhelm us. I believe "Service" should not be undertaken for fame or notoriety. but as a "Stewardship" not to be taken lightly or "Trifled" with... I'm "Willing" to do this work us all... "Together" we will not "Fail".

End quote. Only one "Thing" could make this "Quote" more "Enjoyable" to... sorry. Only one thing could make this quote more enjoyable to read. Get your fingers involved with the quotation marks. Seriously. Try it. Its hilarious. While investigating which candidate to vote for, I perused Howard Stone's website, I couldn't find a blessed idea the man had concerning Provo, or its future, but I was personally invited to come share a cup of cocoa or wassail with Howard and the wifey. While driving to the elementary school to cast my vote, I passed the man himself under a big canopy, electric heaters blazing, water coolers filled with hot water for your choice of beverage, and a gaggle of little girls singing patriotic songs.

But, I voted for Sherrie Hall Everett. Stone had too much "Fluff" and not enough "Stuff". Advice to City Council hopefuls everywhere: If you want to win, you've got to talk about the issues. And if Flight of the Conchords would run, they'd have my vote.

Death by Crafts II

Last night, Eirene's creativity pushed me right out of bed. No joke.