I'm totally musical

I'm thinking of picking up the bassoon again.

Chantelle, there are no words.

My freshman year of college, I moved into an apartment full of strangers. When I moved out of that apartment, I had lifelong friends. The whole group seemed to have been meant to be. We laughed together, hung out together, teased each other, angsted to one another, played nertz late into the night, and occasionally studied. I could not have imagined a better freshman year and it was made that way by the girls I lived with. Their love of life, strength in the gospel, complete goofiness and open hearts made the whole experience one I wouldn't trade for the world. One of those 5 girls is Chantelle. She was always the responsible one - the girl who got up for class even if we had kept her up until 2 in the morning. She was tidy, smart, motivated, fun, not afraid to be crazy once in a while, and incredibly gorgeous. I was impressed (and intimidated) by her from day one. I came to rely on her as one of my roommates that I could talk to about more than the cute boys in the ward or the bad score on my math quiz. The girl has depth, and wasn't afraid to share it.
Obviously, we're no longer freshmen, but we've remained friends. Various iterations of the original group have roommed together in subsequent years, and we've never lost contact. During some of the hardest times of my college years, Chantelle was there for me, always ready to listen, but full of optimism and hope at the same time. Wherever she goes, Chantelle reaches out to those around her, selflessly serving, quick to do the right thing. I don't think I know a better person. I know for a fact that she has left a deep imprint on many, many lives.

All 6 of us have gone our separate ways. As of this moment, 3 are married, one is engaged, on is in Korea serving a mission, and Chantelle leaves for Belgium on Wednesday, also to serve a mission.I'd just like to say, Chantelle, that I love you, and that I'll miss you. I admire you tremendously for what you're going to do, and what you've already done in your life. The people of Belgium and The Netherlands have no idea what they're in for, and I envy them. They better work hard to deserve you.
Have fun!

My Husband: Singer of the Year

As promised, pictures from Adam's night of triumph.
Adam broke Katie and Sterling's rear-view mirror. It was a moment of supreme shock and mirth. The moment when I had to borrow Katie and Sterling's car because our own was stuck in a snowbank 4 minutes before Adam's performance was to start was not of supreme shock and mirth. More terror and panic. I like him.

Celebrity Sighting

Friday, I ran into a person who's blog I stalk who does not actually know that I exist. Exciting, huh? Sister of a little sussy, just returned from New York after Grease closed on Broadway, and ripe out of surgery on her big toe due to an unfortunate altercation with a shower door, sitting in Macaroni Grill as nice as you please. Freaking out ensued, but don't worry, I felt a little sheepish. "Hi, I know you, but you don't know me. You're cool..." Don't worry, I didn't say anything, or try to snap pictures, or get a better look, or try for an autograph (Macaroni Grill provides crayons for this exact purpose, I'm sure). I hope I'm not that pathetic. She looked good, though.

Now, if I can just sight cjane and the kiddlums she's tending (Did I tell you that my sister and I considered trying to find them out trick-or-treating on Halloween? No, we're not creepy).

Ever done this? Run into someone you feel you know intimately because you read their online journal, but then become acutely aware that they have absolutely no idea that you're crawling around on the surface of this planet with them?

...I have no response to this

My bangs have been too long for awhile. En serio. I've been pinning them back, a look I don't mind (shake it up a bit), but Katie and I just decided to trim them today. Maybe trim is the wrong word. Chop. That's the one I was looking for. Things may have gotten a touch out of hand. The result is that I now have to choose between:An attempt at my old style of bangs. Looks weird to me, and things aren't even (which could be fixed, if Katie or I decide to demonstrate anything resembling hair-cuttings skills).I call this style the "Girls with bangs that hang straight down" look. Creative, eh (once again, they're not even and we have issues. Deal)? I've always wanted to be stuff white people like. I might try this, going out on a limb, if I can look like naomi from rockstar diaries. Longshot. Unfortunately, this look also resembles the "Bonnie in Second Grade" look, which just doesn't do it for me. Or I could continue to pin it back for a couple weeks. My grandpa used to say the difference between a good and bad haircut was 3 days. I wish. And another washed out image of me with all hair pulled back instead of the ever-so-attractive-half-dry-and-not-remotely-straight locks previously pictured, because you know you love this. You know it. C'mon, you know it....maybe?.......dang.

So, go vote on what to do with my hair. Now. If I weren't lazy and tired (because of my first ever gym experience - more about this later), I'd set up an actual voting mechanism widget thingamagig in the sidebar. And now you're just thinking about what you're missing.

By the way, these aren't the only options. Shaving the head might just win out.

The Awesome, Amazing, Awe-inspring Ali!

I have made an egregious error. Egregious, I tell ya. In my Christmas post, I was certain I had a picture of every single member of the family. I was wrong. Due to a series of unfortunate events involving Blogger hating me, an extraordinarily important member was omitted: the one, the only, Alison Joan (pronounced Jo-Anne). I am ashamed (name that movie). And here, to remedy the event, I present, not one, but many Ali pics. So, here she is, the queen of the hour, along with many reasons I love her.She has great style. Check out that scarf!A smile is always on her face.

She wears cool hats, both traditional...And un...She likes my husband even when he is strange and odd.Rebellious punk that she is, she makes funny faces and gives Laura bunny ears.
She's a fighter. You just try and get her to give up that bouquet.

Quite a compact little bundle, she fits into my great-grandmother's clothes. In addition, she doesn't protest when I call her funny nicknames, such as Als, Alsison, Ali-Jo, Ali-bug, Ali-boo, etc. She was happy for me when I got married and looked positively spiffing in her jacket. Way to upstage the bride, lil' sis.Her adorable hair. 'Nuff said.More of fashion sense and hair. That girl has style. Have I told you about how creative she is? She makes little artsy things and sells them. Crazy man, that's a marketable skill.Her Mischievous side is quite well developed (This is them decorating our "Just Married" car).She is generous and kind, even tagging along on the boring task of taking bridals. The veil looks nice, eh?A thoughtful gift-giver, she gave Adam and I a gourmet hot chocolate kit. And she sat by me all during Christmas. Thanks, sis.She is smart as a button, and looks great in pajamas.
I like her a lot.

Sorry, Als, I really didn't mean to leave you out.

Sheryl Crow and I are tight

After reading an article on the Freakonomics blog about surviving a plane crash, they linked me to a survivor quiz. Apparently I'm a realist. "You know that life is hard so you face facts and do whatever is efficient and effective to achieve your goals." Sheryl Crow is also a realist. I don't particularly care for Sheryl Crow. I hope that doesn't affect my chances of survival. Apparently Colin Powell's Survival type is also realist. Hmmm. My favorite parts were the options that involved helping out other people (which I ignored) and the ones that suggested that God would save you. Not that I don't believe in God. Because I do. I also believe he wants you to figure things out for yourself. Because that makes sense.

I'm a scaredy-cat, among other things

Before my famed blogging career began, I wondered how people did it. How do they open themselves up to the world, sharing the good with the bad, their highs and lows, the horrendous pictures next to the lovely ones. I admired their courage. I admired their honesty. So, in a moment of courage and honesty (heretofore undisplayed on this blog - I've been lying all along! *evil cackle*) I have a confession.

It's my husband's birthday today. My wonderful, amazing, perfect Adam's birthday.

...and I don't have a present for him.

In a few hours, I will post the glowing, congratulatory "You've reached two dozen years old!" post that Adam will roll his eyes at, but right now, I wallow in my lack of gift-giving skills.

It's not like I haven't thought about what to give him for weeks. Even before Christmas it loomed in the back of my mind (does that make sense? I think not, but it stays. *evil cackle*), the fact that less than a month later I would need another token of my wifely love. More presents.

I've never been good at it. I don't know how to give good gifts. It might be the procrastination. It might be the pressure to get something he'd like that I also thought about and shows my affection without being expensive or cheesy. It might be the lack of creative bones in me (econ major, hello). It might be the intimidation after the best gift ever, received by myself at Christmas. It could be a lot of things. That doesn't erase the facts.

I DON'T HAVE A PRESENT FOR MY HUSBAND ON HIS BIRTHDAY!

So here's the deal. I had one idea, but they're out of print. And I had another idea, and they're closed. I had two other ideas, and they were lame. And then there was that other idea, and the price tag didn't fit. And I had TWO other ideas that are now shipping to the apartment, but they're not HERE!

So...I don't have a gift. I'm going to go give it one more try. Wish me luck. And, any advice on how to give good gifts? What do you give your significant other?

On a side-note, it took me forever to make all the sizes look correct on this post. Why is that? Why are you buggy, Blogger?

And it STILL doesn't look right!

DJ it up

In fulfilling my duties at my illustrious radio job today, I may have implied on-air that Robert Schumann sold out to the man.

I wonder if we'll get any emails about that.

I bet there's a wonderful, sweet, kind old lady out there who secretly harbors fond admiration for the dashing Robert Schumann, is affronted both that I would accuse the man of such a horrendous act and that I would even bring him into contact with the terminology and base culture of today's severely misguided society. She's going to get up in arms about it. Pitchforks (or knitting needles) may be utilized for quite the opposite of their intended purpose. Maybe I was wrong about the wonderful, sweet and kind.

The holiday festivities

It's January, so I think a holiday post is more than overdue. Here's Christmas with my family. Note the 4 nerf guns Christian got, the look on Laura's face after opening her cell phone, and the picture Adam's going to make me delete.

Singer of the Year

Adam was just named BYU's Singer of the Year, after a week-long competition. He sang so well! Congrats, love! I will post pictures soon.

Life comes at you fast...

Due to some Essential Life Changes (as opposed to New Year's Resolutions), Adam and I have found ourselves with less time to kill on the computer, which means less time to blog. Or maybe I've just been slacking. Entirely possible. But, look at me, back in game here.

I am an addict. I'll freely admit it. I enjoy, like, adore, and even love the perfection that is a bagel. So much so, in fact, that I would spend our entire food budget on bagels and cream cheese if by so doing I wouldn't cause Adam to howl in protest. He hasn't seen the light yet. However, he is wonderful and amazing. Especially today. Using his masterful cooking skills, Adam made bagels. Homemade, delightfully chewy, warm and steaming bagels. We thought the recipe would be hard. It wasn't. We thought they'd be small. They weren't. We thought something would go wrong. It didn't. I'm in heaven.Slather on some cream cheese and I'm good to go.

*By the way, the first picture is before they baked. We see sesame seed, poppyseed, and cinnamon sugar bagels.
**Be careful, these are pretty hefty. As Adam said, "That's no snack. I've got to go lie down for awhile."

So, opinions. I'm a die-hard salty bagel girl. None of this sweetness and strawberry cream cheese junk for me. Adam, on the other hand, thinks strawberry cream cheese is da bomb diggity and would be more than happy to slather it on a cinnamon sugar bagel. Blech. What do you like?