golden room.

This morning was phenomenal for only one reason (not, surprisingly, the crappy weather. Or me sleeping through my first class. Or my car not starting). It was phenomenal because I got to get ready while listening to Conlin sleep talk.

I flipped on the light to get dressed as Conlin rolled over, proclaiming, "You gotta get ready in the golden room, girl (or guuurl, as he pronounces it). The golden room is where all the best playas play. And you're a winner reegs, you're a winner." At which point, he jabbed his finger in my direction. "You get dressed in the golden room, reg, like Joe Cada (a famous poker player. I googled it). Because, reg, you. Are. A. Winner." He then put a pillow over his face and began to snore lightly.

He may have been 98% asleep while professing such, but he seemed pretty darn sincere. I'm glad to know his subconscious is on my side.

A few other note-worthy occurrences:

1. Basketball season has officially started! I coach at a private school across the street from Timpanogos temple and I LOVE it. Although I detest tryouts and cutting people (from the team, not with a razor blade. Although I assume I would detest cutting people with razor blades as well--I currently have no experience). We had a lot of girls try out this year, which made forming the roster a rather miserable experience. By the end of tryouts I feel like I'm good friends with everyone, so I feel like a heartless, dream-crushing monster deciding who to keep and who to let go. Maybe I could invite the girls who didn't make the team to be in a knitting club with me or something (yeah yeah- flawed logic. I don't knit and the girls would likely find it an unsavory substitute for basketball. Maybe a cooking club?). I'll let you know how the season goes.

2. I had a handful of pepperonis for dinner tonight. (No, that was not a typo. I ate pepperonis, not pepperoni pizza). I should maybe hit up the grocery store...
Whoops. I told you these would be note-worthy occurrences. Pepperoni eating probably doesn't qualify, sorry.

3. Conlin and I are moving to New York in less than three months!

Just kidding. I only added that because I felt I should have more than two bullet-points.

And I guess that's my cue. Adieu.

lottery winner.

Today's post will be a collection of rather unrelated thoughts...which shouldn't surprise anyone, seeing as the majority of my posts fall into this category.

1. BYU has some of the best and worst windows. As in: skinny and fat windows. There are some that reflect my image 15 pounds skinnier (these fall under the best category). There are others that make me look morbidly obese. (School's hard enough, these should be illegal). I just hope I don't wander about BYU campus in a drunken rage (as I am wont to do) and smash them to bits. It would be an understandable reaction, but I'm guessing it would cost me a lot of money to replace said windows, and likely be enough to get me kicked out of BYU.

2. Bikers scare me. Especially the darty, sporadic BYU bikers. I hate walking across the street, hearing one approaching from behind... I know if I make one wrong move, if they misread the direction I'm going to step, we will collide and they will plummet to the ground. And even though the guilt will lie with them for being so darty, I will feel guilty. And I don't like feeling guilty.

3. Conlin is the best. The other day he warmed up some pizza and began squeezing ranch dressing on top (the ranch thing is not what makes Conlin the best...the ranch thing actually grosses me right out). The dressing ran out and Conlin muttered, "What's pizza without ranch?" "Heaven," I replied. He ignored me and continued, "It's like dancing without music..." (He doesn't typically attempt poetic speeches). Anyway, for reasons unknown, I decided to contradict this statement by doing a little jig (no music) that can only be described as an uncoordinated, un-funny, irish spasm. Conlin didn't laugh. (Not because he was being mean...probably because it was really a weird thing I did, and if I were a betting woman, would leave most people speechless). It only took a second for me to replay the incident in my head (oh the horror!) and become overwhelmingly mortified. I cried, "That was stupid! You didn't laugh, and I looked retarded and now I'm just feeling really stupid. Hurry, do a stupid dance! It will make me feel better. Hurry! Look stupid too!"
And you know what he did?
An even uglier (albeit funnier) little jig. Just for me.
He finished the performance (and oh what a performance it was), said, "There ya go." And finished his pizza.
I feel like I won the husband lottery.
He is the only person I know that has the ability to completely rid me of what could have been lasting embarrassment. And he does it so easily. I did a stupid dance, so what? If anything, I think he loved me more for it. So yeah...I'm pretty darn lucky.