Movin' on up

Oh, That's What Bre Said, you've been such a fun little blog.

But I can't keep living this double life. I get more crazy Chinese spam comments than actual readers. I can't choose between the two blogs all the time. And since I changed my name, it's difficult to justify this url. I'm a one-blog kinda girl these days, so, everyone, you're going to have to stop by

ryanandbre.blogspot.com

and visit me. Change your bookmark (Mom). Update your reader. Do what you have to do, but please, keep reading!

Sweet Stuff

I got free frozen yogurt in the cafeteria yesterday.

If you guess the exact cost of your frozen yogurt on Friday, they give it to you for free. They even rang a little bell for me and everything.

I guess it's the little things that make life oh, so sweet.

It's all Greek to me

I spend a lot of time on the bus. A LOT. Which means I do a lot of reading and take a lot of head-bobbing naps. I hear funny conversations between loud returned missionaries, see a lot of businessmen who get started on their work before they even ARRIVE at work, and even saw one genius Velcro his iPod touch to the seat in front of him and watch a movie.

But apparently, my listening skills are out of shape. Riding the bus has rendered me nearly incapable of actually listening to a conversation, whether I'm involved in it or not. Most of the time, I'm not. But I think I may have taken my tuning-everyone-out a little too far.

Last Friday, I was going home early and I was excited for the weekend. I had my book out (this week it's Slaughterhouse Five by Kurt Vonnegut) and slowly became aware of the obnoxious teenagers sitting across the aisle.

There were three boys and a girl who had really long blond hair. They were joking with each other, laughing, pointing at things on their iPhones and iPods. I smiled at them, guessed they must be about 17, and went on reading my book.

When we got to the point of the mountain, I realized they were speaking French.

My husband loves me

... or maybe he just likes to eat. Either way, I'm thrilled.

This is my new best friend. We've spent a lot of time the last few weeks making bread, cookie bars, cookies, muffins, mashed potatoes... naturally, we need someone to eat it. Ryan is always happy to help.

We bought it refurbished but it worked like a charm. Except when it ate the measuring cup right out of my hand.

That was terrifying.

Hold my hand

I talk a lot about how I'm so excited to graduate and move to Utah and start my internship and how thrilled I am that Ryan is starting at BYU and how wonderful everything is. And I am excited, and life is good, but to be honest, it's a little scary sometimes.

It's a little scary to go to church and not know anyone. It's kind of scary to stay home on the first day of school, to worry about having a job once the internship is over. None of it is terrifying, but it's unfamiliar, and that makes me a little uneasy.

This weekend, we spent a wonderful weekend with some of Ryan's mission friends and their wives at their mission president's house. We were finishing up a nice, relaxing break, but in the back of my mind, I was just worried about things. I have a gift for making little worries seem like the end of the world, and I was suppressing the urge to really let the stress of "What's going to happen next?" get to me.

It was like she was reading my mind. During scripture study, Sister Egan hit me with a simple statement:

"At some point, we're all like Adam and Eve walking into our own personal wilderness. And just like them, we hold hands and move forward."

What Ryan and I are doing isn't new. Through the ages, millions of men and women have shared my fears. It seems to me that those who lean on each other usually turn out all right. Better than all right.

Ryan and I aren't sure who initiated our first hand hold. I guess it doesn't really matter, as long as we keep holding on tight.
*wedding day pic by Camille

Thanks for the help

Remember back when I found that ridiculous button on the new my.byui? I found another reason to love the information technology communications at BYU-Idaho:

Here's a closeup of the best part:

I'm glad they notified me that the e-mail wasn't working. Via e-mail. :)

The Reason

In my Fiction Writing class last week, we studied six-word stories and how fabulous they are when done right. Example from Hemingway: "For sale: baby shoes, never worn." They tell the whole story in very few words.

Last night, Ryan and I read the New Testament account of the Resurrection morning. It's a beautiful story. Maybe because of my class, I noticed this time that the heart of the story was contained in seven simple words.

While the Easter story is the furthest thing from fiction in the world, I think this seven-word non-fiction by Luke is infinitely more fabulous than six-word fiction from Hemingway:

"He is not here, but is risen."

Never have a more beautiful seven words been written! The Savior died for us, and because He was risen, He lives again for us.

Happy, happy Easter.