I Heart Creative Suite

In case you haven't heard, my very best friend (and Idaho roommate!) is getting married on Dec. 20. Horray! (See previous blogs "Best Summer Ever" and "She's Been Domesticated" for events leading to the big question)

So, in true bridesmaid spirit, I'm throwing her a bridal shower next Saturday! I enlisted several of our friends to help with food, games and the other nitty-gritties, but if you know me at all, you know I reserved the invitation design for myself. What do you think?


Cute, yeah? I just love Creative Suite. I drew that flower in Illustrator (thank you, thank you) and laid it out in InDesign. Let me know what you think or if you have any suggestions. :)

Oh, and if you didn't get one of these and think you should have, send me your address and I'll send you one.

Happy wedding, LeaDawn!

¡Voy a México y Guatemala y Belize!

Did you like that subject? Well, I'm going to be speaking a lot more (and better) Spanish than that by the end of next semester. At least, I better be, because of this little e-mail I got last week:


I know you can't read that, so I'll just tell you what it says:

"Welcome to the MesoAmerica tour and congratulations! (This is your official acceptance letter.)"

Horray! It's official — I paid my money and locked in to what will be my next big adventure and an unforgettable experience! I'll spend a month touring Mexico, Guatemala and Belize. I'll climb volcanoes and pyramids,



eat REAL Mexican food, sleep in mosquito nets, explore the jungle,



snorkle in the Carribean, stay with members of the Church in central America



AND earn six credits.

Can you think of anything better? After spending two weeks in April in the classroom (I don't know what I'm taking yet, but probably a Sociology class and an English class), we'll go at the end of April/beginning of May and come home at the end of the month. Basically, don't ask if I can do anything next May. I'm busy. :)

I don't know much more about it because I'm in Utah and haven't been to any meetings, but I do know it's going to be incredible. I'm saving up a lot of money.

Donations accepted.

(Note: All those pictures are from past years of this same tour)

In a nutshell

Last Thursday, I took myself on a date to see one of my favorite bands, Sherwood, who happened to be passing through Provo.


When I got home, I turned on my MacBook to see if the new episode of The Office had been added to NBC's Web site yet.


While the site was loading, I stopped by espn.com to see how the BYU game turned out.


That pretty much tells you everything you need to know about my priorities.

Say anything, but say what you mean

I was going through an old binder last weekend that had some of my writings from last summer. I found this one and liked it. See what you think.

June 25, 2007

Sometimes the most annoying thing in the world is a sound.

It’s kind of funny that something as intangible as a sound can be so irritating. But when someone else’s alarm goes off and they’re out of town, or when steam sets off a fire alarm or a toilet won’t stop running, it’s enough to drive you crazy.

But sometimes, the nothings drive me crazier than the somethings.

Silences kill me sometimes. The phone doesn’t ring. There’s no knock at the door. Someone will mention the weekend but not ask if you want to be part of it. No compliments. No invitation. No letter of congratulations. The company you applied to work for doesn’t call back. Missionaries don’t write. The alarm clock didn’t go off. The radio doesn’t work. The air conditioning is out. No one’s home.

Those silences don’t go away. I think we all have one or two of those silences in our lives that we wish we could fill with something — anything.

But who says no news isn’t good news? Sometime I take it as a good sign if I don't hear from someone who's gone. If they were hurt, someone would have told me. If a guy doesn’t want to spend his time with me, he's probably not worth me spending mine. The phone's silence creates more time to think. And there’s nothing wrong with sleeping in once in a while.

Maybe silences are as essential as noises.

My Favorite Boy

I'm kind of a Daddy's girl.

That much, I've known for quite some time. But it's my dear old dad's birthday this Saturday, and I realized the other day just how much he's taught me.

A couple days ago, I was putting oil in my car and a boy from my apartment complex came running over.

"Do you need some help?"

I slammed the hood shut. I'd just finished.

"No, thanks. Just putting some oil in."

"Oh. And — you don't, like, need help?" He didn't seem to know what to do with himself.

"No, it's cool. I just got done."

"Oh," he said, and left, finally convinced I really was OK.

I couldn't help but laugh as I walked to my apartment. My dad taught me how to check my oil — and what to do when it was low. Hadn't everyone's dad done that? Then I realized ... probably not.

I thought of other valuable things my dad has taught me. He showed me how to cook fried eggs (over-easy, of course). He taught me to appreciate fine cheese. He explained to me the beauty of Les Miserables and helped me understand Shakespeare. I learned from Dad that it's OK to not be a Republican and that funny movies are meant to be memorized for quoting later. He taught me the value of a simple, declarative sentence. He teaches me to learn from every experience when he asks, "So, what did you learn?" when I call and tell him a heartbreaking story.


(Me and Dad being "scared" of the Tower of Terror at California Adventure)

I took my groceries into my apartment and unloaded my lowfat yogurt, extra lean hamburger and orange juice. I realized that Dad had taught me to take care of myself. He was diagnosed with Diabetes when I was nine, so we traded all of our cookies for cheese (fine cheese, like I said) and our Coca-Cola for Diet. I used to joke that my parents were starving me to death with all the low-calorie foods, but when I see piles of junk food in my roommates' cupboards, I'm grateful.



Mostly, though, my dad taught me the value of people. I grew up watching my dad teach — first students my siblings' ages, then my own — and he genuinely cares about people. I love it when my friends tell me they think he's a great teacher. I love it when I overhear people at BYU-Idaho talking about their "favorite professor" and figure out it's him. Dad loves people.

I'm OK with being a Daddy's girl.
Happy birthday, Dad.