Usually, I let these sort of thoughts pass me by

As a child I didn't think I was very pretty, not ugly either, just not pretty. Either way, it didn't really concern me. As I got older, I was told my coloring was very unique, or that my big, blue eyes were beautiful, and that comforted me. I decided I was unusual. Not pretty in the classic sense, but pretty in a different sense, which, in a way, was almost better. I certainly thought my eyes were prettier than all others I'd seen.



Then I met her.

I have this friend. She kind of looks like me. Sometimes people wonder if we're related.

We're both tall and slender, but she's taller, with thinner legs.

We both have fair skin, but hers is acne, scar, and even freckle free.

We have the same dark hair, hers more expertly coiffed.

Our eyes are the same color, but hers are larger, her lashes longer and thicker.

Her lips are more full, her eyebrows more symmetrical.

While my face is round, hers is longer and thinner, and her cheekbones! Did you know I have a thing about cheekbones? Hers are positively regal, elven even.

We even have the same name.



And yet.


I could never envision a trade. There was no trait so seductive I'd give up a part of myself for it. There has never been anything about her situation that I'd trade for my own.


Until now.




Congratulations my friend.

25 Random Things I've DONE: Indiscretions of my Past and Present

Scroll down to read the NEWLY ADDED 11 and 12!


1. For years, whenever I used the bathroom in someone else's house, I'd check to make sure there was no one behind the shower curtain....I've gotten over that particular fear though, ahuhu

2. When I was 15, my friends and I would get really annoyed with the interruptions from this group of boys in our early morning seminary class. One night, when we were babysitting at the church for some Relief Society function, we brought red and pink paper and markers with us and "Heart Attacked" our classroom with Valentines to and from the two worst (we thought) boys, declaring their love for each other (I'm not saying their names cause they turned out really well, and are nice guys). We put hearts all over the walls and chairs, and we decorated the chalkboards. In the morning, we arrived to find that the teacher had left EVERYTHING up! Apparently she too was annoyed by their jokes and comments in class. All she did was erase the chalkboard that she needed for her lesson. Those poor guys....we made them look foolish and accused them of being gay....and I'm sure they never suspected the home-schoolers!!! I never really felt bad about this....cause it was just a joke, but there were a few other times where I was just plain rude to them (Me? Yes. ME.) and I do regret that.

3. One night after mutual (church meeting for youth), my friend discovered a pair of lacy, RED panties in the bushes by the church. Being the creative girls we were (and apparently very innocent and unconcerned with STDs), we hatched a plan to take them and place them on the antenna of this guy the next morning at seminary. (I think we chose him because he was usually out after us, and he parked his car around the corner....at least....I hope that's why we picked him). Anyway, my friend (ah heck, who cares. It was Chrissy) took the undies home, and brought them the next day in a plastic bag. The deed was done, and we had the thrill, but no pay-off....until a week later. Fortunately, this guy happened to have a little sister who was also a dear friend. She told us the strange, and scintillating, tale of the mysterious red underwear on her brother's car (he was a good boy and went straight home to tell his mother). Poor kid, he'd probably never seen "Satan's Panties" before. Home-schoolers strike again!


4. A friend and I once got into a fake fight on Myspace. We had discussed it, and then my friend acted on it, so I retaliated. Basically the idea was to see who were the type of people that would be curious enough to ask, and who would ignore the drama....it was kind of silly, sorry if I offended you.


5. Ooh! Another fake fight. I call this one, "YOU BETRAYED MY TRUST!" On April Fool's Day '04 my friend (later roommate) Becky and I had a shouting match in my dorm room. She promptly slammed the door and went to her room. I then opened the door, shouted, "And don't slam my door!" and then slammed my own door. Then we laughed hysterically while IMing each other. It turned out that only one person heard it, but I told Isabelle (Becky's roommate) about it later, and she totally believed me. Then I had to tell her I lied, cause I'm like that.


6. More Myspace. Apparently, I am spontaneous sometimes. I decided, for some reason, that it would be funny to change my Myspace profile picture to a sonogram. I guess I just wanted to confuse people, but no one ever said anything. Maybe they assumed it was a niece or nephew....or maybe they thought I'd gotten married without telling anyone....oh well.


7. For a while, my friends and I had the habit of inserting the words in the phrase someone had just said into this form: I'll _____ YOUR ______.

For example: "Watch out for that stop sign!" became "I'll stop YOUR sign."

It was dumb, and usually dirty. One day a friend tried to come up with something that COULDN'T be made dirty, I think it was "Happy Unicorns." And I immediately replied, "I could make that dirty."

Well, everyone thought that was the FUNNIEST thing. I mean, Mary SANDERS, making things dirty? Are pigs flying? (Yes I had the whole "clean mind" reputation) Truth is, I think in metaphors, so of course I can make anything dirty, just like I can make anything about life, or creativity, or education.

Alas, I have since been known as, Mary Makes-it-Dirty.

(Incidentally, "I'll happy YOUR unicorn" sounds VERY dirty, and I didn't even have to TRY)



8. I never had a crush until the week before my seventeenth birthday, when I "fell" for my friends older brother (along with a bunch of other girls too young for him). Anyway, he arranged this singing group for church, and I totally messed up my part (okay, actually just the beginning, but still). And that's how I learned that embarrassment is a great cure for unrequited....
....infatuation.

9. Ooh, ooh! More stupid things I've where guys are concerned! In college, I had a crush on a guy named Isaac. We ended up walking to school together by chance one morning, and I commiserated with him over a bad cold he had. He mentioned that he'd heard garlic was good for the immune system, and I concurred. We parted, and, being the stupid that I am, that evening I borrowed some of my roommates garlic pills (yes, she knew) and taped them to Isaac's door in a zip-loc bag.

Wait....here's the lame part. I left an anonymous note that said something like, "I heard you were sick, and thought you could use these." He, being the Completely Unsuspicious guy he was (at BYU, no less!), found me on Sunday to ask if they were from me, and thank me for my thoughtfulness.

And....that's all. Nothing came of it. I wonder what happened to him? He was really fun/smart/nice, but didn't date any of the girls that liked him (and there were quite a few). Oh well. Wherever you are, I hope you are happy!

10. What's that? You say you want more embarrassing stories about my former love life [lack thereof]? Hmm.... Well, there was Weston. He was quirky-fun and probably a genius (I've got a weakness for genius). Anyway, I liked him, and thought he might just like me (we went on a hilariously fun date, but I asked....although he did play with my hair once, and let our elbows touch during the movie....). Needless to say, I was confused. It all came to a head the last week of school (deadlines make me brave, aka stupid). Again, I went with the note (this time letter) taped to the door. My version of brave doesn't seem very brave, does it.

Anyway, I told him, if he was interested, he should come see me but, if not, I'd probably see him on Sunday and I hope he had a nice life. I suffered some heartache because, of course, he didn't come....that night. The following night, he called and asked me if we could talk. Let me tell you, this guy is quality. He didn't have feelings for me, but explained that he had spent some time trying to make sure. Basically, he actually thought about it. Then, instead of taking the easy out I had offered him, he came to my apartment to explain in person, and try to comfort me. I cannot tell you the depth of my respect for this guy acting like a man. I was almost glad he broke my heart, cause the way he did it was so....nice.
We emailed a few times. Making sure to wait a week or two in between each one so neither of us would appear overeager (for completely different reasons, of course). Gradually, my feelings faded. And then, of course, I started hanging out with Chris. I actually grew a lot from the experience emotionally. It was a stepping stone to real love, by expanding my ability to feel heartache. I tend to shy away from big feelings, trying to suppress them until I feel safe.

11. College pranks! One year I threw a St. Patrick's Day party for my roommates and some people in my ward (Ah, good old Sparks II). We watched Waking Ned Devine (One of the FUNNIEST movies EVER), and I made Irish Soda Bread (yum!). I also bought some gold wrapped bonbons from Wal-Mart (still need to repent for that....) as a sort of stand-in for leprechaun gold. I told everyone they were "Irish Bonbons" (there's no such thing that I am aware of). Little did they know that I had replaced about half of them with chocolate dipped mushroom caps! I kept waiting and waiting for someone to freak out, and, halfway through the movie, Weston (See #10) went, "Ugh! That's disgusting," and, with a look of analytical concentration, promptly took another bite. Meanwhile, I was dieing of laughter in the kitchen. Everyone thought I'd gone mad, but I explained and they laughed. Then my roommate Isabelle pulled out her half-eaten "bonbon" from where she had hidden it under a cusion, not wanting to hurt my feelings!

12. Once I left my purse upstairs after Sunday School, one of the guys offered to go get it for me, so later, during Relief Society (Women's Meeting) I wrote him a "Sunshine Note" (it was a silly/cutesy college tradition, they had someone in charge of distributing the notes), thanking him for being so nice. Then my roommate Becky asked if I had anything to eat with me (she'd get shaky sometimes from what I think was hypoglycemia). I opened up my purse to grab my half eaten granola bar, but I couldn't find it. I didn't think much of it because I lose things all the time (especially in my purse), but, after church when the notes had been delivered, Josh (just remembered his name) came over to apologize for stealing my granola bar. He felt really bad when he got my thank you note. I gave him a hard time (stealing on Sunday, roommate with hypoglycemia, etc.), but we laughed it off. Apparently he had put it in his pocket upside-down, so it crumbled all over. He left feeling properly punished, I'm sure. Of course, late that night, we removed all the wrappers from one and a half Costco boxes of granola bars and taped them to his door.
We just wanted to make sure he nipped that stealing thing in the bud.

Super! Harry

Sorry, I saw that hair and just couldn't resist:




The internet often provides me a modern outlet for my love of paper dolls.

For example.

Superheroized!

So here's a fun site I discovered through a couple of awesome blogs. Make your own superhero, and then post the link so I can see!



This is me if I were a Superhero:






This is me if I were a hot Superhero:






This is a random one I made up:








And this is my awesome husband:

Happiness

"I can never forget the night I thought you were dying, Gilbert. Oh, I knew--I knew then--and I thought it was too late."

"But it wasn't, sweetheart. Oh, Anne, this makes up for everything, doesn't it? Let's resolve to keep this day sacred to perfect beauty all our lives for the gift it has given us."

"It's the birthday of our happiness," said Anne softly.



You're up too late. Husband gone to bed, and you finishing a children's book just after midnight. It was cute, funny even, but left you wishing for something more. You rise, head to the bookshelf for a midnight snack. What will it be? Frederick Wentworth's life-altering letter to Anne? Mara and Sheftu's dance of misdirection turned devotion?

You sit, eyeing your old friends, waiting for one to speak, and come to a boxed set, untouched, unread, a Christmas gift from your mother. Unconciously, you have been saving them. You know why she wanted you to have them. You'd grown up hearing stories of her, reading Laura Ingills Wilder to get through nausea, and knew, when she presented you with a different (but equally beloved) series for your own, what they were for. There was a laugh in her eye, and you smiled. Each of you knew the other knew.

So they sat, untouched, on the shelf, waiting for the terrible, wonderful days of change. You would read them straight through, in order, something you've never done. Yet, your hand hovers over the third volume, the one you read most as a younger adult, in those eyes, the most romantic.

Pulling it from the box, you open the book around page two hundred. You skim through the Heroine's denial, graduation, realization, homecoming, family, friends, and then revelation.

"There is a book of revelation in everyone's life, just as there is in the Bible. Anne read hers that bitter night, as she kept her agonized vigil through the hours of storm and darkness."

Unconsciously, you have been trying not to break the spine, but, telling yourself not be silly, you open the book, your book, wider, relinquishing a portion of your dream. This may not count for a first read, but broken spines do not equal broken traditions. Or so you tell yourself.

There are two statements on the final page that you have heard others quote, but your eyes find something new, something you've never noticed before, and well with emotion at the words, "the birthday of our happiness."

You remember such a day of your own, a day of decision, a day upon which you were finally ready to step from fifteen months of darkness into the light of the rest of your life. Happiness is a gift, but it is also a choice. That day you were afraid, but you finally knew what you wanted, and had the courage to take it anyway.

And as you bask in the sudden peace of gratitude and love, you remember the man in the room next to you, the one who shares that birthday. The light is still on, so you are not surprised to find him as he is, asleep on his knees, head on the bed, arms still in the attitude of prayer.

You wake him, turn out the lights, get him under the covers, and hold him close to you.

Often, when you see the two of you reflected in a mirror, your mind seems to disown your body and, for a moment, you wonder who you are, who he is, how you came to be together. But tonight, as he pulls you close, you fall asleep remembering how it all happened, warm in your surety, safe in familiarity, spirit settled in the present.

You've had many special days since then, a day of promise, a day of covenants, but your heart turns fondly to that day, the dawning day, of the birthday of your happiness.