Happy 2009 to All.

I realize that I haven't written in an awfully long time. Apologies to everyone, or at least to the ones who enjoy these things. I suppose then that this will just be an general update dotted with stories... I'm afraid that not much of importance has happened.

So -- I guess I shall answer common questions from everyone. Dates, grades from last semester, job, new classes, and any other adventures. Okee. :D

For the question on my parents' minds, and probably the minds of most of my many adopted parents in Chandler -- no, no dates. I did get asked on two though, both of which I declined. Hm. Perhaps if I told you about these, then you might understand.

First, let me introduce you to Jacob Stark -- extremely intelligent, inquisitive, and armed with a whole quiver of skills. He is one of Shannon's good friends, so he visits sometimes. He is probably one of those people who I will never understand, and he freaks me out. I honestly can't describe him to you. Honestly. The best I can do is tell you is that his behavior is always in what we have dubbed the Stark Spectrum -- one end being ridiculously happy, cheery, extroverted, hyper, and friendly; the other end being creepy, morbid, dark, and just plain disturbing. I'm warning you now -- I'm only describing the creepy end of the spectrum. So, if at the end of this little storylet you think Jacob is a creep -- it's because he is sometimes, and that's all I've told you about.

Sometimes he gets this cannibalistic gleam in his eye, and sometimes when he has this look -- he'll bite me on the arm or shoulder. Heeeh... He's done it two or three times.

His conversation skills could use some work, I think. Once he walked up to me in church and said, "You know, when I see you, I think of drowning kittens." Then he proceeded to explain to me in morbid detail exactly how he would drown the kittens. I obviously couldn't see my own face at this point, but I do remember my eyebrows knitting together, my jaw dropping, and just giving him a general look of horror. My personal theory is that he just takes insane joy from seeing me horrified, because he doesn't say things like that to anyone else. But I'll never know. While I was still standing there with a stunned look on my face, Hillary exclaimed, "Jacob! That's HORRIBLE!"

He stopped for a moment -- then said. "Oh. Yeah. Sorry, I felt like I should to say something to you, Jenna, so I did."

"Drowning kittens? I remind you of drowning kittens?" I demanded.

"Well, no..."

Hillary then demanded that he pay me a compliment immediately. He told me I was beautiful today and left.

A few weeks later at church again, he walked up to me after sacrament meeting and abruptly asked, "If all your roommates were drowning, and you had to choose, would you go to dinner and a movie with me?"

I remember sitting in my seat with a stunned look on my face, and it took me a few seconds to process what he had just asked. "Is that an either/or question?" I asked disapprovingly, ignoring the little excited voice in my head that said, Ooh, free food! I love food!

He opened his mouth, closed it again, walked away, and, well... hasn't talked to me since.

I think I don't have to expand on why I didn't want to go on that date.

The other one... well, I'm bringing in an old character for this one. Remember Michael Smith? He's baaa-aaackk...

If you don't, let me refresh your memory. Rewind to spring term of last year. That guy that kept "asking" me on dates, or rather, planning dates with me and then telling me about them as if it was obvious I'd say yes. That guy who made soup and dumplings to lure me to his place when he found out I was sick -- and then once I was there, popped in a movie and then proceeded to squeeze himself closer and closer to me. I kept scooting away, and eventually had to jump up, declare intense feelings of illness, and leave. He did a lot of nice things for me too, but again, I'm only telling you about the parts I didn't like. He's not that bad, I promise.

I ran into him last Sunday. I walked out of the testing center, where we have church, saw two people about twenty meters away -- and then looked at them again because I thought I recognized one as Michael Smith. It was him. I have gotten in the habit of avoiding this man like the plague, but in this case it was too late to avoid him, because we made eye contact, and he exclaimed, "JENNA!"

"MICHAEL!" I yelled back. Well, I was on a spiritual high and felt on top of the world. Nothing could bother me right now. Not even scary guys I am normally terrified of. He had a girl with him, who he introduced to Hillary and I. A little hopeful voice inside of me said, Ooh! Maybe they're on a date! Maybe she's his girlfriend! He told me that he wanted to visit with some of his old friends in Monticello and that he might drop by later.

I mentioned that we were having a Break the Fast at White House North, and that much of the ward would be there. I mean, now that I look back at it, I suppose he might have interpreted it as, Ooh! She invited me to a party! Maybe she likes me!

Whoops...

So, the next day just before midnight, I check my phone to see that I had missed a call from Michael while I had been at FHE. Oh the terror that washed over me. In spite of it, I decided that I should at least pay him the respects of calling him back to see what it was he wanted. I resolved to call him in the morning.

He beat me to it -- wet, dripping, and fresh from a shower the next morning, I shut myself in my room only to find my phone blinking that little red light that means I've missed a call. How odd. No one ever calls me, let alone early in the morning. It was again from Michael, and he'd left a voicemail. In the message, he apologized for not coming to the Break the Fast, and that something had come up with one of his mission buddies. He said he wanted to catch up and left his number. Meh. I HATE calling people.

But... twice. He called me twice. I got ready for class, and then on the way up the hill, I called. I'm terrified of making phone calls, but somehow I succeeded in gathering up the courage to call somebody who scares me to death (be proud of me!). A huge wave of relief washed over me when I reached his voicemail. This means I can get out of having to call again.

Beep!

"Phone tag! You're it!" And with that I hung up. I hate making phone calls. However, I seem to have no problem whatsoever answering them.

Michael called back later that night and proceeded to "ask" if I wanted to go play racquetball.

"Michael," I said truthfully. "I can't do anything tonight. I'm doing homework!" I was also waiting for my home teachers to show up to give me blessing too, but I neglected to mention that, deeming it unnecessary information.

"Homework? Psh. You're still doing homework?" He tried to tell me that it was more important to go play with him than it was to finish my homework or to get enough sleep...

"No, Michael, I can't go tonight."

"Oh come on, you know you want to." And we were back to that game, just like last spring. Oh, if you were here, Michael, I would be this close to slapping your face.

"Michael, I'm doing homework. I'm extremely tired. And I'm expecting my home teachers to be here soon for a blessing. I can't go!"

And he finally let me go. Finally. I have a suspicion it was only because I mentioned that I was waiting for a blessing. I wish I hadn't mentioned that and had instead figured out some simpler way to forcefeed a "no" down his throat. You'd think it'd be enough to say, "I'm busy tonight," or "No." I really can't think of any more obvious way to say no than... well, "no." What more am I supposed to do?

Hm. That was a whole lot of story for a whole lot of no dates. Mleh! That's all right, I suppose. There's always this year!

And now we turn from my social life to my academic life. Which you may or may not care about.

Last semester's grades turned out pretty well. An A- average, ladies and gentlemen! I am so proud of these grades! You should be proud of them too.
A -- psychology, family history
A- -- New Testament, social dance, chemistry
B+ -- tap dance, physics, chemistry lab

This semester? I am SO excited. So. Excited. To qualify as a full time student here, you have to have at least 12 credits, and the most you are allowed to take is 18 credits. Most semesters I'm quite close to the 18 mark. Not the case for this semester! I am taking a mere 12.5 credits this time around. Be proud of me, all!

Unfortunately, I regret to inform you that I don't think this semester will be any less difficult than before. Why you ask? Well... you see... here are my classes!

Neuro 205 (Neurobiology): 3 credits
Neuro 360 (Neuroanatomy): 2 credits
MMBio 240 (Molecular and Microbiology): 3 credits
MMBio 241 (Molecular and Microbiology Lab): 1 credit
Rel A 212 (The second half of the New Testament): 2 credits
Rel C 293 (US & Canada Family History): 1 credit
Dance 184 (Beginning International Standard Ballroom Dance): 0.5 credits

May I now express to you my very excitement? If you could see me, I'd be glowing! Radiating! Despite the early hour of my neuroscience classes, I find my insides dancing with joy when I go to them. They're going to be soooo hard. And soooo fun. Watch out world, here I come.

I know at least 80% have forgotten what I'm studying in the first place, so here's a refresher. I am a neuroscience major. And, as of tomorrow, I have three minors. Psychology, mathematics, and chemistry. I'm also planning on finishing all the pre-med requirements. It sounds like a lot, and I suppose it is, but the thing is, a lot of these requirements overlap each other.

With the neuroscience major requirements, I already have to take all the chemistry minor requirements except for one more... and well, since when did I not jump at the opportunity to take one more chemistry class? Excited? Yes. I am.

Psychology slid nicely into place too. One class also fulfilled a GE requirement, and I have to take four 500-level psychology classes for the neuroscience major anyway (Eeeeeee!!!)... add one more psychological statistics class (ooh, sounds fun) and voila! Jenna has a psych minor.

And the math minor... well... remember that I used to think I was going to major in math? I decided against that. I am two classes away from a math minor. Two! I might as well make all my joyous sufferings in math classes count for something. I love math... but I don't particularly enjoy math classes. So, if I ever decide to drop a minor, this'll be it. But I won't, because we all know that I'm as stubborn as a rampaging baseball bat.

And the pre-med... That's just in case I end up going to medical school, obviously. If I do that, I'm thinking I'll go into psychiatry. Where I'll go to med school - No. Idea. Haven't gotten that far yet.

What else do you people want to know?

Oh. I quit that blasted library job in which I worked till midnight. And... I am still on the job hunt. I wanted to work in the Central Chemistry Stockroom, but that fell through. My next and brightest idea is the Brick Oven Pizza that is practically across the street. And if that doesn't work out... I could do catering for BYU! 'Twould be grand adventures indeed.

Oh! And!

I discovered my nemesis.

His name is Alex Seegmiller. And he doesn't -- like -- hugs. Egad! Oh, how can this be? My personal theory is that he is the victim of a horrid shyness (I have heard him speak a grand total of thirty seven words in the entire semester I think) and hasn't been off his mission quite long enough... oh dear, that's a recipe for disaster. He hasn't quite gotten used to the idea that he can hug girls. Poor guy.

This is made so very much worse with the cruel irony that he is my FHE brother -- which means his phobia of hugs interferes with my absolute need to excitedly yell "BROTHER!!!!" upon sight and attack him with a massive hug every time I see him. He usually responds to this hug with massive surprise (I mean, come on, he hasn't come to expect it yet?) and instantly growing as stiff as a board. Sometimes he falls over. Now that is just bad hug etiquette. It is my personal goal to desensitize this poor chap. Heaven knows toleration of hugs will do him good in his future life. I mean, one day he'll be married! I could save his future marriage! :D

Okay, so I know it is quite unlikely that constantly assaulting him with hugs is going to solve anything. But you've got to admit, seeing that look of pure terror just before attacking him with a hug is great fun. I mean, he'll learn to enjoy it (we all hope for his sake anyway) because if I hold on long enough, his brain'll release endorphins and endorphins'll make him happy.

And I think I'm making progress! He chuckles nervously now instead of hyperventilating in the event of being hugged... and I could swear he doesn't stiffen up quite as much as he used to. And every once in a while, he hugs me back a little! Yes!

My other FHE brother (who is Alex's for-real brother and pretty good-looking, incidentally) is Dan. To think that he is related to Alex is unthinkable. I have the opposite problem with Dan -- during a hug, if you hang on too long, he starts stroking your head. Beware...!

We have some other FHE brothers, but I don't know them very well yet... One is Peter and one is Ivan. Peter is one of those guys that could easily blend into crowds and I can't ever find him to attack him. Plus he's new, so we thought we'd take mercy on him and refrain from attacking him for these first couple weeks. And Ivan... always missing.

We also have an entire apartment full of FHE sisters, which are in the ward directory, but we swear we've never seen them, except for Jenny, who is easy to find, because she's the only one in a wheelchair in the entire ward. And apparently there is another Jenna too. (Oh man. This is just asking for confusion.)

My calling for this semester in church is as a member of the Literacy Committee in the Relief Society. Oh heck yes... basically we get to teach a lesson every once in a while on pretty much anything. Possible topics: how to study the scriptures, study habits in school, family history skills, writing skills, how to write your personal history, computer skills, etc.

Speaking of writing, I send off lots of missionary letters. It is probably one of my most favorite things to do ever. I don't get too many back though. In fact, I fear little brother Clifton is dead. The only problem with that theory is that if he really were dead, his parents might have thought to post news of it on his little mission blog. Ryan isn't dead (but it is very hot in Australia). Alex isn't dead (but we weren't allowed to send him a Christmas package to Malaysia which we didn't think was fair). And, well, I don't think anyone is dead. I think everyone is alive and well...

So, I guess the whole point of this was to explain that I am alive and well. Which I am!

Love,
Jenna

[Lack of] Adventures in Chandler?

Yes, the emails have stopped for now. People have kind of been asking for "Adventures in Chandler" and that sort of thing... but...

Well, the truth of the matter now is...

Nothing of interest is really going on with me. Life is boring, usually. I have been to church three times down here. I have gone to see Prince Caspian and Wall-E with the Burchfields. But besides that, there isn't a great deal of excitement going on around here.

I have been writing a lot of letters though. I suppose I could tell you about that since a few of you have been asking about my missionary friends.

Yesterday I sent away a few boxes of snickerdoodles to my friends in the MTC... a box to my rather clingy friend Elder Will Budge (Argentina Mendoza Mission, departing the MTC 08/18), a box to my little brother Elder Clifton Dudley (Mexico Monterrey East Mission, departing 08/04), and (of course) a slightly bigger box to my very good friend Elder Ryan Strong (Australia Adelaide Mission, departing 07/14). My son, not-yet-Elder Alex Compton, has not entered the MTC yet, but he will in September. His initial assignment? The Singapore Mission. I am writing quite a few of my other friends too, but I think those are the only ones you might remember.

I get the most letters from my little brother, of course. He has been in the MTC the longest, and before he left, I made him promise something to me... that no matter how busy he ever got as a missionary, that he would write back, at least a few lines (even if it was just, 'Querida mi hermana mayor, I'm alive and the gospel is still true! Love, Elder Dudley!').

So he has. I have gotten a few letters that are extremely short, and some that are decent in length. I am happy to get them all. The other day he even sent me a picture. I can't wait to get back to my little apartment in Provo, and get myself a spiffy picture frame. And then I will put it on the wall for Rachel, Hillary, and I to admire every day. I have sent him two boxes of cookies so far.

His mother also posts his letters on a website for all of his friends to read while he is away, along with other pictures. It is very useful. It even has a nifty countdown on it. Right now it says, "Your missionary returns in 721 days." But I'm not really going to pay attention to that. I wouldn't put it past my Clifton to extend.

Elder Strong has only been in the MTC for about a week and a half, but he has less than a week before he starts the journey to Australia. It is for this reason that he got a slightly bigger box of cookies -- I just don't have the money to send him cookies once he is in Australia (except perhaps for Christmas or his birthday). And besides, I put a few other things in his box. Napkins, duh. Ten letters. And a note of explanation.

Yes, ten letters. Let me explain, perhaps, because that would involve a story I could tell. Perhaps this email won't be quite so boring.

Actually, Ryan and I have been writing each other since long before he left. It started on my birthday. He sent me a letter, and I sent him a letter back, etc, etc, etc, until he went into the MTC. And somehow, mine were always two pages, front and back, handwritten, complete with doodles and drawings.

Apparently he liked them. While on the phone the night before entering the MTC, he said in his excited voice, "Ooh! Jenna!"

"...Yeah?"

"You should send me ten letters." And in a half-joking tone, "All on the same day!"

Incredulous, I responded, "On the same day! That would kill me! You know how long my letters are!"

"Hm..." he said seriously.

"That would be... twenty pages! And not to mention, ten stamps."

"Well... you could write one really, really, really looong one and then split it into ten little ones," he suggested.

I laughed (probably what he was trying to make me do the whole time). "Okay, okay..."

"Ten letters all at once, then," he said, more seriously, but still with a definite joking tone to it. As far as I can tell, this sort of tone means he isn't really joking and that he is very serious about it.

The last time I heard that tone of voice, he wanted me to make a Swedish fish pie... We were on the phone, and he was lamenting about how we couldn't make a Swedish fish pie. Well, I said. You could. Swedish fish in Jell-O in a pie crust so you could see them swimming around, and you could fashion the pie crust out of crushed graham crackers, or even better, crushed Teddy Grahams. I reminded him that it wouldbe purely decorative, and that neither Rachelle nor I would be too excited to eat it. Not when we could make a chocolate creme pie.

"You should still make a Swedish fish pie," he said in that strange serious-joking tone.

Needless to say... I didn't. Well, after that, he showed us up and made his own Swedish fish pie, using my idea exactly. He documented the whole process with pictures for proof that he really did.

As far as I could tell, Ryan really did want ten letters all on the same day, but I don't think I'll ever know if he was actually expecting to get them. To tell the truth, I was kind of afraid of what sort of silly antics he might pull if I neglected his ridiculous request.

So I started to write a really, really, really looong letter. And I finished it. And I couldn't bear to write any more or less than two pages, front and back, handwritten. Quite problematic, especially since that sort of letter is hard to split up into ten smaller ones.

What to do? Ten real Jenna-letters would take a long time to read. Missionaries don't have (or aren't supposed to have) that sort of time.

Well, there aren't a great many things to do to entertain myself with around here. Ten real Jenna-letters. I could do that. So I decided I would write him ten two-page letters. And then it occurred to me that Ryan was in for a very, very long journey to Australia. I then wrote the letters with the intent that he would read them during that very, very long journey.

So that's how it happened. I wrote ten two page, front and back, handwritten letters, complete with (sometimes comparatively exquisite) artwork. (My sisters were also in awe at how small I was writing.) Twenty pages might seem like a lot to you, but believe me -- after surviving IB? It was nothing. Well, not nothing. It took me a loooong time. A whole week and a half, because each letter took (on average) three hours. One took me five hours. But it wasn't difficult, and it gave me a goal, and something to do.

Once done with all ten, it was of course more cost efficient to stuff them in a box with a load of snickerdoodles and send them away. I explained to him when he was allowed to read them (not until he was travelling) and I assured him that it would never happen again (I have to explain that or else he'll ask for twenty next time). I'm sure he'll have plenty of time to read them on the way to Adelaide... In an email forwarded from his mother this morning, he said, "The journey is so long and far that it'll start on the 14th and end on the 16th. I'm leaving the Salt Lake airport and flying to San Francisco, then waiting for five hours, then flying for twenty hours to Sydney, Australia, then waiting for five hours more, then flying all the way to Adelaide, Australia." How long and boring could that be? Hopefully he runs into lots of interested people so that he can tell them about the Gospel and give them pass-along cards and such. If he doesn't, it could make for a very long and boring trip. Especially if he is one of those people who can't sleep on planes. (I hope for his sake that he can.)

Well, I suppose that is all. I'm getting my wisdom teeth pulled on the 17th. Eew. I hope to spend the last few days with a full set of teeth eating all my favorite foods. And maybe I'll write loopy letters to my missionaries after I get them pulled. I have a loopy letter from Ryan that he wrote after his were pulled. It is only fair that he gets one too... I also have a little cavity that they'll be filling. I'm rather bummed about that; I haven't had a cavity before.

I hope to maybe make a pie in the next week or so... it's time for July pie! I'm not sure what sort of pie I'll make though. Just for the record, so far here is the progress on our thirty pies:
1. Apr '08: cherry pie
2. May '08: chocolate creme pie x 2, lemon meringue pie
3. Jun '08: banana creme pie
4. Jul '08: we shall see...
After this month, a whole row on the pie chart Ryan made will be full. We didn't have much to do in May, can you tell?

My sister Becca starts color guard tomorrow. Whoot!

And... besides that, I think there is no more news.

I don't believe I will post again until I am back at BYU, come August 16th. Sorry to disappoint.

One of Thirty.

Sunday finally came. Sunday, the day of pie. Ooh, Cherish didn't even know what was coming to her. And she didn't even know what efforts we were going to to make her this pie. I had gotten my sister to read me the recipe for cherry pie over the phone. And then me and Ryan went to a real grocery store to get the cherries for it... (We split the cherries in half. I paid for two cans, and Ryan paid for two cans. The cashier looked at us funny. Finally, he asked me, gesturing to Ryan, "Why'd you split it up? Why didn't you make him pay for all of it?" I laughed. "Because we're both making the pie, and we're both equally poor!" Hm. This happens to us a little too often. Cashiers get upset that Ryan isn't paying for me all the time when we're just doing friend stuff. Yeesh. I don't know what their problem is...)

After church, Ryan had to go do his home teaching, so I had time to go to my hall meeting before we made the pie. In the middle of our hall picture, Clifton and Alex walked by... Clifton yelled out, "Hey, Jenna! Is your door open?" I blinked. "Yes?" "Okay!" And with that, the two of them disappeared into my hall, presumably to take over my apartment. As soon as the picture was done, I dashed up to my apartment, and straight into the kitchen.

The sight made me sick. Stuff alllll over the place. I had just cleaned this place last night when Ryan was here before we went and got cherries! "WHAT are you doing?"

"Making you dinner! Out!" And with that Alex tried to push me out and shut the door on me.

Nuh-uh. NOT in Jenna's kitchen, you don't. Particularly when I had plans for this kitchen. I think I must have been trembling with a strange mixture of emotions. Shock at the upheaval my kitchen was in, gratitude that my dear guy friends would think to make us dinner, annoyance at their using MY kitchen to do it, and stress from the realization that there was now a conflict between pie-making and dinner with friends. Gaaah. I just spluttered weakly, "My... my kitchen is dirty. It can't be dirty. No..."

Oh, I was tense. Alex looked at me sternly. "Jenna. CALM down. Calm down. You... are REALLY REALLY tense. Calm down. Everything is okay!"

"My kitchen... I... I... I'm making pie? I'm making pie. Except you're using my kitchen. My kitchen. I was going to make pie..."

Oh man. I must have been ridiculously stressed before this, because now I was a nervous wreck. I shivered, and then grabbed my broom, and started sweeping. Then it occurred to me. "Hey! Do you guys have shortening?" We had had shortening yesterday, but then it had been used up in the night and now there wasn't any to make pie pastry with. Alex looked up from preparing his meal. "I do." "Can... can I use it?"

Alex considered, all the while staring at me. "Only if you promise to stop stressing and calm down." Ooh. This is going to be tough. But... I need the shortening. So... it's worth a try at least.

"Okay! I'm calm, I'm calm..." I muttered breathlessly. Well, I wasn't calm and Alex saw.

"No. I don't mean you just say you're calm. I want you to BE calm." Oh man. Alex is a toughie. I was going to have to actually calm down... for real!

I took a deep breath, and it rattled angrily. So I took another deep breath, looking up at the ceiling. I realized suddenly that my fists were clenched. I let them go. And my whole back was as stiff as a board. I forced in into a more comfortable position and held it there until Alex decided I had improved enough. Then he left to go get the shortening. And then I tensed up again and continued sweeping.

Ryan showed up to make pie. I... think I got even more stressed, because right at that time Clifton declared dinner ready. I finished sweeping.

"Dinner time!"

"Wait, right now?" I said, despairing.

"Yes. Right now."

"But. But. I was going to make pie..." After muttering that, I set off to set the table. Clifton made Ryan stay and eat with us. I busily set the table, and then Alex scolded me. "Jenna. Remember your promise."

"What? Oh... yeah, promise. Shortening. Promise." And I took another long breath. But that rattled too. WHY was I so incredibly stressed? I knew why, but I wouldn't let myself think about it. "Not stressed not stressed!" I said. Ryan looked at me with that weird amused look he had sometimes. At least someone wasn't upset with me. I looked behind me to see Clifton standing there making a twirly motion with his finger. I blinked at it. "What?" Then I realized he wanted me to turn around. "Ohhh!" I said, and I obediently turned around, not sure why he would want me to do something like that.

Well, I didn't have to wonder for long. "Come 'ere, sis." Clifton put his arms around me and hugged me. I closed my eyes, but not all the way. What I saw almost made me laugh. Poor Ryan couldn't handle it. He was very pointedly not looking at me or Clifton, and looking down, up, behind him, everywhere except right in front of him where I was being hugged.

I've told you all how Clifton is basically my little brother, and that pretty much sums up everything. He teases us all the time, is really annoying most of the time like a little brother, but every once in a while he'll do something really nice. This hug was one of them. I wonder if he got hug-lessons from one of his parents, because it was just like that... like a family member was hugging you and comforting you. So, naturally, I calmed down quickly. My heart beat slowed down finally, and so did my breathing. I relaxed. When he finally let me go, I felt like a rag doll.

I sat down at the table (next to Ryan, who still wouldn't look at me... haha) and then we said a family-plus-Ryan prayer. After that, Clifton and Alex left, and then Ryan and I set off to make pie.

Well, the dough was interesting. We just couldn't get it right. It just wouldn't hold together. And the attempts to get the pastry into the pan were failures for the first few tries. Finally, we got the bottom in the pan. Ryan prepared the filling while I tried to manage the top crust. I looked over at Ryan filling the pastry. And then I looked away, and then looked back. The pie... had overflowed. "Oh no," he said. "I think I ruined it."

I laughed. Oh, it was SUCH a mess. Some weird cherry-sugar-liquid concoction spread all over the table, and down onto the floor. Perhaps I should have supervised Ryan more closely. Oh well. Whatever he did wrong, he won't do it again. I made him go get the paper towels, and I shoveled cherry stuff into a bowl. I poured the liquid out of the bottom pie crust. And then I put the actual cherries back into the pie.

And then we set to work trying to assemble the top. We did eventually, with the help of Rachelle. Somehow, as we talked the subject turned to... dirt. Like, the information sort of dirt. Rachelle wanted to exchange such dirt with Ryan. Dirt. Like gossip. Ryan wanted to know what the girls have been talking about in their secret girl talk sessions. Rachelle, of course, wanted to know all about what the guys were saying about the girls. I also wanted that, but I hadn't any bartering dirt. Besides, Ryan tells me everything anyway.

Oh dear. Ryan, Ryan, Ryan. He's begged me multiple times to let him in on the girl dirt. And every time, I swear another oath that I never will. Not even when he's eighty. This frustrates him... majorly. He is far too curious for his own good. He'll get himself in trouble. It ended up that Ryan and Rachelle worked out until the deal was, "Okay, if you give me your dirt, I'll give you mine." At this point, I backed out. I looked at Ryan. "I haven't got any dirt. Maybe Rachelle does, but I don't. Nobody gossips with me, because I won't gossip with them."

Rachelle promised she had some juicy dirt. Ryan looked tempted. I knew what Ryan's dirt was, so I warned, "Don't do it, Ryan. She's probably pulling your leg... her dirt's not worth it!" But Ryan wanted dirt, and then happened one of those rare instances where he got frustrated with me. "Jenna!" he exclaimed in exasperation, "Will you just... step outside or something?" I laughed at him. And then Ryan couldn't take it any more. He caved. All right, Ryan, go to your doom if you like. And then, he gave Rachelle his dirt. Unfortunately, this dirt is still gossip I just don't tell people without the subject's permission, so I can't tell you what it was. I know, you're curious. But you'll just have to settle with not knowing.

Rachelle listened intently as Ryan confessed his dirt. Rachelle looked over at me, and then at Ryan. When Ryan was done, he said, "All right. Your dirt. Give it." Rachelle looked up at the ceiling. "Actually... I don't have any dirt. I didn't think you'd actually tell me your dirt..."

Ryan looked stunned. Poor man, I even tried to warn him. And then he was a little upset. "RACHHEEELLLE! You'd better give me ALL the dirt you've got!" Well, she didn't have a single granule of dirt. As we put the pie in the oven, Ryan then turned on me. Looking at me, he said, "Jenna. I KNOW you've got dirt. Give it."

"Dirt? No, I don't..."

"Yes, you do. Remember you said there were some girls talking about me at the beginning of the year?"

"Oh, yeah." I had forgotten about that.

"That's good dirt. I want that. Who was it?"

I rolled my eyes. "Ryan! I told you. I'm never ever going to tell you."

"But... but it's the end of the year! I'll never see them again! It doesn't matter, just tell me!"

"You're right. It doesn't matter. So you just don't need to know. I don't tell secrets, okay!"

Ryan was very frustrated. He rounded on Rachelle again. "You CAN'T tell your roommates."

Rachelle swore she wouldn't. When the pie was done, we carried it over to 128 with Hillary (where Rachelle, Liz, Claire, Patrice, Cherish, and Kerstin all live) and presented it to Cherish, who was delighted. It wasn't the most beautiful masterpiece of a pie, but for a first pie, it was pretty darn good, I think. We sat and talked. And I watched Liz and she practiced her signature. Finally, I said, "Liz. You have beautiful cursive E's... Show me how to do them, just in case I marry someone whose last name starts with one!"

And I think, with that, the conversation turned into girl talk. Ryan listened intently. He even took notes. And then he's ask questions, clarifying what he had heard...

"Wait, so you guys all think Brooks is cute?"

We concurred.

... "Why is he so cute? Is it how he does his hair?"

We couldn't agree on anything like that, except that Brooks was undeniably good looking.

..."Why do you guys like Roy? Is it something he does... Is it something I can do?"

Ryan stayed as long as he could, and then he had to leave so that he didn't break the honor code. As soon as he was gone, though... Rachelle piped up, "Jenna! Can I tell Ryan's dirt?"

I blinked. All eyes were on me. Oh no. I grimaced. "It's not my dirt to give..."

But it was Rachelle's dirt now. Ryan had given it to her, as dirt. When Ryan told me, it wasn't dirt, it was a conversation between friends. But Rachelle had it as dirt. So she told.

And then everyone looked at me for verification once she told. This disconcerted me. Everyone would look at me whenever they need verification about dirt concerning Ryan, because I'd know if no one else did. "Uh..." I said. But my face gave an obvious yes, it's true expression. I watched as their faces changed from skeptical about the dirt to trusting. Gaah! I have such a revealing facial expression when I'm trying to keep something secret. I exploded. "Yes. Really. Quite."

I didn't feel good about that at all. That night I went home and it took me longer than usual to sleep.

A Bishop's Challenge.

Ward prayer every Sunday night is usually rather uneventful... It's kind of like family prayer (since none our of individual families live on campus) except... larger. But... this time the Bishop got up in front of us all and started to speak.

"Uhh... well, this announcement is for the brethren, and I was going to say something in Elder's Quorum earlier... and I'm sorry, but I forgot!" Bishop Madsen then proceeded to scratch his head a little... He put his hand in his pockets. "Have I issued a challenge before?"

In unison almost, the ward answered, "No."

He chuckled a little, "Oh, I've been too nice."

The guys kind of looked around at each other nervously.

"Well, I'm going to issue a challenge to the brethren of our ward: that you each go on at least one date a week until the end of the semester!"

Noise erupted in the tiny lobby in which all 180 of us were packed into. Of the guys whose faces I could see, about half looked delighted... the other half looked terrified. All the girls I could see were celebrating loudly (as was I). My FHE son, Alex, looked as if he had just turned to stone. This was not just terror... this was absolute panic. I was standing next to Ian. He had his face buried in his hands. "Oh, no. Oh, no no no... I'm going to be broke... I can't do this... I'm doomed to be poor..." "Ian! You don't have to make yourself poor to go on dates!" Ryan, who was a little bit ahead of me, turned around and laughed, "Shall we tell them about the Madsen Recital Hall?" (There are free musical recitals practically every night at 7:30 there). He looked fine, since he already goes on anywhere from one to three dates a week anyway.

It was then time to say prayer, and we collectively got down on our knees for it. When we all opened our eyes again, I could see that the majority of the guys around had just lost a family member, and all the girls looked like they had just won the lottery or something grand.

I'm not sure if I imagined it or not, but I could have sworn that one of the guys was on the verge of hyperventilating or something as I was leaving... Many guys begged us for ideas on the spot.

Come Monday morning, we awoke to find a note all taped up on our doors, saying something like the following... "We need fun and inexpensive date ideas... please write some on the back of this paper and deposit in the main Shipp fireplace..." This seemed incredibly funny to us, since the anonymous writer(s) obviously wanted to not be found out. However, while they had bothered to type the note, it seemed that as an afterthought it might be a good idea to label which girl's room this paper would be returning from... So, written in clumsy handwriting was our address, "126 Robison"... My roommates joked about comparing handwritings to find out whose it was. I joked with them, but kept my mouth shut... (Let's just say I knew whose it was... and I'm sure you can guess whose it was as well...)

Within ten minutes, we had typed up a two-column page in ten-point font of really random date ideas, including: mud football, blindfolded cake decorating with spatulas, finger-painting except with toes, nightcrawler hunting, making Wanted posters of each other, dollar theatre, board game night, gerbil bathing (yeah... what is up with that?), ghosting, three-legged basketball, pirate ship balcony commandeering (group date), Irish dancing, ice-cream sculpting, hide-and-go-seek, dancing in random department stores, bowling in formal dress, coloring books and ice cream, etc.

We then printed it out, stapled it to the ridiculously tiny piece of paper our mystery friends had provided for us, and inconspicuously delivered it to the men's fireplace. Strange spot for a drop-off.

Well, none of us have been asked on dates yet, but it's only Tuesday. However, we have positively identified at least a few of the culprits. This morning the University Chorale got to sing in devotional. Will, Ryan, Dallin, and I are all in this group... So... we all headed down
to the Marriott Center for devotional. Ryan and Will, being guys of small stature, ended up near the front. However, Dallin (of large stature) and I (quite tall in heels) ended up in the very last row... next to each other.

Before the devotional started, Dallin called his grandparents to tell them to watch the devotional on BYUTV, since they would be home when it was showing. He also added that his roommates and he had build a mini-golf course in their lobby last night for dates tonight, and needed an extra putter.

"A mini-golf course! That's amazing!"

Dallin nods.

"No, it really it is! See, you guys don't need help coming up with ideas!"

Dallin blinked at me. "What makes you think that was us?"

... What makes me think what was... "Wait... what?" Oh. Aha... "Oh, that. No, no, no... most of the guys I've talked to since Sunday have complained about not being able to think of date ideas..."

Dallin realized too late that hadn't been what I was trying to say.

We fell silent. Then... "Was that you?" It would be nice to know for sure it was them... since, after all, I had recognized Ryan's handwriting... and Dallin and Ryan were roomies. But it would be nice for the guys to feel like it actually had been a secret.

Dallin had the most horrified look on his face... like he had just accidentally betrayed top secret information to the enemy during a time of war. "Uhhh... Never mind... Just... never mind..."

And then we sang. But Dallin seemed rather uncomfortable for the next hour. I think the poor guy was trying to figure out how he was going to explain to his roommates how the secret had leaked out.

Oh dear.

I'm a busy girl.
Yesterday I took two midterms and did a lab... today... I took another midterm.

I also got my first paycheck yesterday! It was about two hundred dollars. I bought myself a BYU sweatshirt... because it's darn cold up here. Today it's raining. A lot.

Tonight I get to go to the General Relief Society thingy... Shweet.

Well, about last week.

Monday! Ahh!
So I went to work, then to all my classes, and then I came home and watched Oklahoma!... which I borrowed from Ryan. Then I set off to make cookies... Oh!
I'm pretty sure I haven't emailed off the witty cookie piece I wrote Monday night. I posted it on Facebook, but I don't think I emailed it off. So... here's that. Viva copy and paste!

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Cookies: An Epic Tale
I Am NOT Having Eight Children: A Rant from Someone Who Likes Things Just So

Disclaimer: I am not incriminating anyone in my FHE group at all… in fact, I love them all bunches. I need to vent out my frustrations… which I like to do in comical prose. I may have exaggerated a few details as per artistic license.

Ok… so… we had our first family home evening group thingy where I, Momma Jenna, was in charge. Oy, that was a HASSLE. So, I figured I'd make cookies for random people in our ward, right? And then have a batch for us to eat? (That's what everyone wanted to do... but no one wanted to be in charge of it... go figure). Theoretically, that would have worked. Except I figured that everyone wouldn't be able to keep their paws off of my cookie dough. So I more than doubled the amount of cookies I'd make. In my head this made perfect sense and might even solve some problems.

I started making dough at three after watching Oklahoma!… and here's where the problem comes in. My roommates (especially Jackie) seem to have a sixth sense that knows when sweets are being made. They also all seem to be addicted to raw cookie dough. They were eating dough all the while I was attempting to mix a HUMONGOUS quadruple batch… And I am wondering if the cookie-ingredient proportions were at all what they should be, because as I mixed it together, it disappeared.

It was once perfect cookie dough.

So of course I made a humongous mess mixing together cookies in such titanic proportions. Thankfully Rachel did some dishes, but really I was left to scour the kitchen alone, all the while thinking, "Oh man… I have history reading I should be doing…"

Somehow our kitchen got clean. And then the boys came.

Hands immediately reach into the cookie dough I spent forever making… Oooh, I am sooo mad. I karate kick Clifton, my little brother, in the chest, but gently, and really only with my toe. He doesn't seem to get the message. He swipes some more later, and that is when I drag him outside and lock him out. Unfortunately, Rochelle and Ashley happen to feel merciful at the time, and let him back in almost immediately.

I don't know how many times I explained that the pre-made cookie dough (my sweat, blood, and tears!) was for people in our ward and was off-limits for eating. Alex and Jon were mostly the only ones actually mixing together our cookie dough (which I yelled many times was free-reign for eating... but no one seemed to comprehend that there was a batch of cookie dough I'd let them eat). I'm sorry to complain, but I confess I wasn't quite happy with the consistency of the batch the boys made and was glad that was the batch we were keeping and not giving away.

Oh, but what I really couldn't stand was all the bickering and roaring laughter (I don't mind laughter, it's when I can't hear my own thoughts that it becomes a problem) and mean jokes and funny snapshots… it would have been fun… IF I wasn't trying to make cookies at the time. See, cooking and baking is like... my zen-mode, second only to church... (How else do I get cooking inspiration???) Most of the time I am perfectly willing to step out and initiate silliness and chaos… but I need order. I know there are certain times where you sit down and have a serious (or more serious-than-usual, as is the case with me) face... which for me is in the kitchen.

We colored paper plates with random holiday greetings (and I mean REALLY random)… signed them, put a dozen cookies on each plate, and then went cookie caroling to random dorms in our ward (we tried to give half to people we knew and half we didn't).

In total we made enough dough to theoretically cork out twelve dozen cookies. (I made two thirds of it myself.) We only made five-dozen cookies. All the rest of the dough had already been eaten. So now… here I am, left with a derelict kitchen, up way past my bedtime, and a little too frustrated to sleep… although a thank you letter from Ryan did help (thanks by the way… I really appreciated that!).

If I go to bed now, I shall get five hours of sleep… Oh, the incredulities!!!

I think I am quite feeling back to my silly ol' self. Not that that helps any… it's hard to sleep when you feel like dancing.

♥Jenna

P.S. The JFSB is always neat and tidy. I think I can completely destress there tomorrow morning... neat... and tidy... while rockin' out to Batman of course!

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So... that was Monday. Tuesday was very full and no exactly exciting.

Wednesday and Thursday I went to tutor at a nearby elementary school. Me 'n' Elsa (the girl I tutor) are already friends. So... here is about when I dash off to a study group... Well, actually I have another Facebook entry on this experience... But... I think in order to keep this email within tolerable lengths, I shall summarize it.

I forgot about tutoring and completely scheduled something in that time slot... a study group with Ryan, Dallin, Will, Roy, Mindy, Liz, and Claire. I had everything planned... and was falling asleep happily on my bed, when...

BAM!!! My forehead hits the shelf above my bed as I jerk up and out of bed, horrified with the realization that I forgot about tutoring. I instantaneously go from very much relaxed and stress-free to skyscraper-like stress levels. I have a throbbing headache spreading from my aching forehead through to the rest of my skull, and I feel really bad about missing this study group thingy... so I miss it...

But then... there's Will... who happens to be a history genius similar to my friend Zack in Arizona. Who kind of timidly asks if I want to study with him later since I missed the study group. Of course I say OK, cuz... well, I have to admit I suck at history and he happens to be darned good at it.

Yesterday... OK, funny story. My roommate's car wouldn't start one day, and they are already late to a concert... and then they see two guys walking to their car... and "Hey!!! You guys! Can we have a ride?" The guys give them a ride. And then give my roommates their number so they can get a ride home.

However, my roommates walk home, and Jackie decides she's going to ask the guys over as a thank you and have them eat the apple rolls we made. Well, I reminded her that she wouldn't let me give Oklahoma back because she hadn't seen it... and so she stuck it in.

Alas, the two boys come over and scarf the apple rolls, and then sit down and... don't leave. They are watching Oklahoma with us. And that's a darn long movie. And... well, there's a whole lotta stuff about marriage and kissing in that movie. Perfect set up for Jackie to feel awkward.

I was going to go to bed, but poor Jackie would feel so weird watching that by herself with two guys. So... I stay and watch it again. And I make funny comments at the awkward parts to make Jackie feel better. They finally leave at 11:30... and poor Jackie looks exhausted. Haha.

Well, I don't have anything else to say. Buh bye now!