This Week in Other News.

Sunday

I went home before Sunday School in church because I wasn't feeling quite so good. I came home and crashed. I slept until later at night. I woke up and did some visiting teaching... Then I went to ward prayer. I took my customary place on the stairs. Ryan came an sat on top of the recycling bin next to the stairs, so we were at about the same level. Clifton*, my little brother... randomly came up and started talking to me. "Jenna. You should ask a guy in your dance class to the social dance club dance on Friday night... because the guys in your class probably won't know about it, and you should go."

I blinked at him. "Uhh... okay." I grimaced a little, going through all the guys in my dance class. The ones I get along with best seem to have girlfriends... and then there's Scott, who is just a little awkward. Oh joy, Clifton. I really don't want to ask anyone.

Clifton switches topics quickly.

"Which girls have formal dresses in our ward?" At this question, Ryan also perks up and starts paying attention. Apparently, this is valuable information.

"Uh... well, for sure I know that I have one... Rachel has one... Hillary has one... Jackie has a few... Why?" I ask suspiciously.

"Oh, just that Invitational is coming up."

... "What's Invitational?" Well, apparently Invitational is a formal dance for Heritage Halls. And Clifton really wants to wear a tux, which would only be appropriate with a girl wearing a formal dress. Ah, now I understand. It would be useful to know which girls have formal dresses, so that guys with tuxes or access to/ funds for renting tuxes can ask those ones. Tuxless guys would go for the girls without formal dresses. How... sensible. By the time I ward prayer was over, Ryan and Clifton had convinced me to compile a list of girls in Robison Hall with formal dresses. ("Haha, you know which girls we like!" ... And it was true...) Ay, caramba.

And then Clifton switched topics again. "Hey, Jenna."

"What?"

"On second thought, I'll just take you to the dance on Friday. Just wear the same stuff you wore for DanceSport yesterday. What dances have you learned so far?"

"Oh, okay... Uhhh... foxtrot, cha cha, some waltz, and just very very basic swing..."

"That's okay. I'll teach you what you don't know. And you can meet my sister!"


Monday

St. Patrick's Day! Or at least it was until the Pope announced that it wasn't. Whatever. We still celebrated. We all wore green.

I was doing homework in the MARB as usual, when Ryan and his classmates vacated my next classroom. I was about to pack up... and then Ryan was back. He had turned around and come back. Apparently his next class was canceled. He wanted to sit and study with me... but my next class hadn't been canceled. He looked a little... I don't know... mildly distraught. "Are you okay? Tired, or something?"

"Oh. I... haven't been feeling particularly well..." There was a pause. "And my mission call comes this week..."

"Oh! Wednesday or Thursday?"

"Yeah... yeah... Wednesday or Thursday..." I think that might explain his pallor. Nerves.

"Well, I need to go to class. You should find a more comfortable place to hang out... The MARB isn't the coziest of buildings... Maybe try the Talmage or something..." I sat and tried to think of places with cushy chairs.

"Well, I think the Madsen Recital Hall is empty now. It should be... I mean, that's where my next class usually is..." Definitely full of cushy chairs. So he left and I went to class.

For FHE, we had a combined "family" dinner, in which all the food was green. I made ridiculously green rice krispies treats that stained our tongues green. Mmmm. The main course was pasta with green alfredo sauce. Weird.


Tuesday

I tested the cha cha... and I did all right, I think. Except Scott, my partner... wasn't as skilled as Matt. I had to count in his ear just so he wouldn't get off beat. Ugh. How frustrating.

After my Isaiah class, I came home... and I was feeling a tad ill again. Well, more than a tad. I fell asleep. I accidentally slept through my Irish dance class... whoops. I was kind of conscious again later, and I could tell without looking at the clock that I had missed class. I was kind of half-conscious and such... Trying to convince myself that it was a good idea to get out of bed. I mean, I was a little hungry. And I felt perfectly fine now.

Then my door opened. Hillary poked her head, kind of noisily whispering, "Is she still asleep? I don't know she's awake... Oh, I think she's still sleeping... Sorry..."

Sorry? What, did I have a visitor? Argggggghhhh... I pulled myself out of bed. At the very least I should get something to eat. I open up my door again and poke my head into the world outside. "Who opened my door?" Ooh, I sounded groggy.

Hillary drooped. "Oh, I'm sorry! It was me!"

I blinked so that I could actually see. Oh look, Ryan is waving at me. "Oh, hi... What are you doing here?"

"Uhh... what are you doing here?"

"Uhh... I live here."

Then he got a little playful. "No, I live here." Practically.

"Ryan, I think that's against the honor code. You wouldn't want to break the honor code, now would you? Hahaha..."

"Oh no, I wouldn't be breaking the honor code. All of you would be breaking the honor code for living in my apartment. But because I'm a nice guy, I go sleep over in that place over there every night so you guys can stay here."

"Oh, how thoughtful of you."

Well, I was ridiculously hungry. And I wanted curry rice. Desperately. I pulled out the ground beef and set to cooking it. Ryan came and watched, curious as always at this thing we call cooking. "Is that how you cook frozen hamburger meat?" "Yes." "...You scrape off the the browned meat on one side and then flip it?" "Yeah." "... And then scrape the browned meat on that side?" "Yes, Ryan." "Oh. ... ... How do you stop the meat you scrape off from burning while you're cooking?" "Well, you just stop it from getting dry... so make sure the heat isn't all the way on high, and if it still seems like it's gonna burn, put a bit of water in it..." "Oh." And at this point, I came to the realization that I was missing an ingredient. I handed the spatula to him. He blinked at it. I told him, "I'm going to the Creamery to go get something I forgot. Finish this." And... I left. And I just kind of hoped that my meat would still be edible when I came back. I was back in nearly a jiffy, and I came back to find Ryan... running around the garbage can outside my place. Suspicious. I wondered what horrendous thing had happened to my food. I started walking up the stairs again. He ran past me so he could open the door for me. I came inside, came to the stove... and oh look. It lives. In fact, it was rather perfect. And, the burner had been turned off, and the pan moved to a cooler spot so that the meat wouldn't burn. I couldn't have been prouder.

After Jackie, Rachel, and I ate (Ryan had already eaten), Ryan decided he was going to teach me some racquetball. We walked over to the Richards Building, got our equipment, and then climbed into a racquetball court. Thankfully, Ryan didn't care that I wasn't too good at it, because he wasn't too good at it either. He taught how to hold the racquet, and mostly we just bounced the ball off the walls as hard as we could. Then we got kicked out by some people who had reserved the court, and we went home.


Wednesday

Not much happened. I went to all my classes... but Book of Mormon had been canceled because we had a midterm this week. Ryan and I studied for it for about an hour when we'd usually have class. As we were walking over to the testing center, Ryan looked rather nervous.

"The test shouldn't be too bad if it's anything like last time..."

He nodded, but I don't think he was really paying attention. After a few minutes, he finally said, "My mission call came today... Don't tell anyone. It's a secret."

"A secret? Why, you want to tell everyone yourself?"

"I don't know. I just don't want to tell anyone."

"... Have you even opened it yet?"

"No. No. I'm going to wait until Friday. I'm going to open it with my grandparents. On Friday."

He really did seem a little out of it.

"And I might tell you where I'm going."

"... Might?" I demanded. "You'd better tell me where you're going! Or else..."

He smiled. And we took the test. (I missed one! :( Sad day!) And then I went to orchestra. Then I went home. And slept.


----
* Clifton is going to the Mexico Monterrey East Mission, reporting June 4th. Dallin, Ryan's roommate... is going to the Mexico Monterrey East Mission, reporting June 4th. My biology class friend Ben is going to the Mexico Monterrey East Mission... reporting... you guessed it, June 4th. Whoa.

Shrink Duty.

This week has been splendid. Entirely. Every night I got enough sleep... and I'd gotten all my homework done with relatively no stress. The to-do list in my head was rather small... which all in all resulted in a happy Jenna.

I even sang well in choir. In fact, I think I got the piece that we would be performing in devotional next week completely memorized. Yay! So, of course, I walked out of choir smiling with a skip in my step.

Ryan kind of snuck up behind me and just silently walked beside me. He didn't even say hello. I looked over at him. "Hello!" He smiled. I started to wonder if he was all right... he seemed tired, or stressed, or depressed, or something... But since I couldn't figure it out within two seconds, I asked, "How are you?"

He said he was okay. I'm not sure if I believed him or not. We walked for a little, and then just when he seemed like he was going to talk...

"Jenna!" Will viciously cut in, oblivious to anything in the world except himself and Jenna Griffin.

"What?"

Will took the place on my other side. He has a tendency to make everything about him, so it wouldn't do for him to be on the same side as Ryan. No, no, we have to completely absorb Jenna's attention.

"I'm happy!" Well, that was a change... usually he was the most depressed person within a ten-mile radius. But it was sort of expected... he had just gotten his mission call (to Mendoza, Argentina). I patiently listen to Will... and Ryan slinks away. Will continues to talk, and it gets more and more awkward (he was more happy because he had talked to his first girlfriend, and then he started telling me all about the circumstances of his first kiss, and...)

I am about to cut in and tell him I need to get to class... "Well, I'll let you get to biology..."

"Okay..." How do you know my class schedule? This isn't something I openly tell Will about. Stalker.

Well, my biology professor didn't show up... and I didn't particularly mind, because my mind was occupied and class probably wouldn't have done much good for me anyway. I couldn't help wondering if Ryan was okay. I hadn't seen him in two days, and he seemed rather bothered by something.

I went home. Pulled out my pen and paper, and proceeded to write him a little note to see if he was okay. I then ran over to Shipp Hall and slipped it under his door.

Then I went home again. Where I totally cleaned my kitchen... then my room... then my hallways... then my bedding... then my laundry... and then... I walked out of my front door and noticed a sharp smell of permanent marker. I followed my nose and discovered a note taped up by my door... and yes, in permanent marker. I smelled it before I saw it. It was in Ryan's clumsy writing. He said was okay. Liar.

I went back in my room to see messages from both Ryan and Will on my computer. Ryan was just informing me that there was a note outside my door. Will... well, I can't sign onto instant messenger without fear (usually fulfilled) that Will may start talking to me within thirty seconds. I started talking to both of them... and then Ryan wanted to come over.
He did, but then we just went to my neighbor's place.... Cherish, Ryan, and I (mostly Cherish and I) talked about random things for about an hour and a half. Then Cherish and her roommates left to go see a movie.

I was hungry, so I went back to my apartment to scavenge for food. Ryan followed me. And... there wasn't much. Somehow, my other roommates had run out of meal plan money, and I had to pay for most of the food this week... and so we only that the most basic foodstuffs imaginable... and then I was out of money too.

Checking my refrigerator and my cupboards for food, and hearing my stomach growling angrily, all I saw that wouldn't take much time to prepare was... pasta. All right. What can I have with plain pasta?

Ryan is lying on my couch rather dejectedly. I pull the chair over to the cupboard so that I can search better. Aha! In the back, a can of tomato sauce! And... three cloves of garlic on this shelf... and over there, I'm sure we have Italian seasoning... I check the fridge for ground beef, but we are out. Oh well. Meatless sauce is better than no sauce.

"Have you eaten yet? I'm making spaghetti."

"Uh... I've snacked..."

"No dinner?"

"Well, no..."

"Ryan. Do. You. Want. Dinner."

"Uhh... sure..."

"Okay! Sorry about not having any meat..." I get the noodles going. And then just as I'm about to start the sauce... Wait a minute.

"Do you know how to make spaghetti sauce?"

He blinked at me. "No..."

I pulled him over to the stove. "You're going to make the sauce." I decided I wasn't even going to touch any of the ingredient for the sauce anymore. I had already poured the tomato sauce in the pan, but the rest I could just tell him how to do...

I told him how to peel a clove of garlic, and then I pulled out a garlic press. "What's that?" "A garlic press... To crush the garlic with..." "Oh... it's meant for garlic?" "Yep." "I always just used to play with peanut butter with those..."

I told him to put the garlic inside and then crush it. He looked down at the garlic press, and then at me. "Will it hurt it?" "No..." "Oh... will it hurt me?" "No... But it might hurt the garlic..." He opened the garlic press, apologized to the garlic, closed it again, and then squeezed. I gave him the knife so he could scrape the garlic into the pan. Then I pulled out the Italian seasoning. We crushed that, and then put it in. We put the sauce on low heat and then let it simmer until the noodles were done.

I served it, he blessed it, and we ate it. And then Ryan started to talk. And talk. And talk some more. I sat and I listened, occasionally giving input and advice... I realized that I had been right about him not being okay earlier... I don't know if he had realized it though. By the time Ryan had finished talking, it was past 1 am. I pretty much got to be his shrink... I think he's better now though. Five hours of listening made me really tired, but five hours of talking made him more awake than he had been all day. When he finally left, I went to bed and pretty much passed out.

Noodles.

Ah, President's Day. No school. Yessss.

Still, this means Jenna is stuck with her nose in a biology book. So many of my roommates have been gone. Ashley was in urgent care, Rochelle, as usual, was missing in action. Jackie was at a relative's house. Hillary and Rachel were here, but were busy entertaining their old high school friend, Latecia. So... I was practically alone in the apartment. I suppose I could have gone over to the guy's hall, but Ryan was at his grandparent's house, and Will is just plain depressing.

Ah, biology. How exquisitely exciting when you don't have a test the next day. Poring over the book... filling out charts...

KNOCK KNOCK.

What does Ryan want? Wait a minute. Ryan isn't in Provo... is he?

I answer the door.

Hm. Ryan's back. So much for studying biology. And... I realize that I'm hungry. Snack time.

Ryan invades my kitchen and begins telling me all about his crazy adventures with cardboard boxes over the weekend. I happily start munching (I forget what I was eating... but I think I made myself something tasty). And suddenly, Ryan perks up.

"Hey! Did I tell you I learned how to make noodles?"

I blink. I must have misheard. "You made noodles?"

"Yeah, I learned how to make them last week!"

Wait. Whoa, now. Learned how to make noodles last week? My brain nearly fell through to my stomach. "You... you didn't know how to make them before?"

"Well, no... except for the noodles in the Mac'n'Cheese boxes... but then they make just plain noodles! And sell them in plastic packages!"

"You've never made noodles before?!? NEVER?"

"No!"

There is a slight awkward pause.

"Oh, and I also found out that they make spaghetti sauce and sell it in jars!"

Holy macaroons. My goodness. What has this boy been eating his whole life? "Well, yes..."

"And... they also make it in cans, right?"

I nod slowly. "Yes... of course they do... but it tastes slightly of can, and that's why most people prefer the jarred sauce..." At this, he looked confused, and didn't say anything. "Well, it's cheaper in cans, and you can get rid of the tinny taste really easy... you just add a little bit of sugar to it, and it's all better." He just kind of looked around at everything and anything except for me... he was ashamed... or something. "But that doesn't really matter if you know how to make your own... it tastes better if you make your own sauce anyway... you know, your own meat, your own seasoning..."

I think at this point he was excited to hear something familiar. "Oh, that's what Dallin said!" Dallin, Ryan's roommate, is probably the most amazing cook I've ever met in my life. I mean, he could cook for a girl and then propose... and not get rejected because the food is so good.

"Good, good..."

At this point, Hillary, Rachel, and Latecia enter the kitchen and start fixing themselves dinner as well. Hillary starts making Brussels sprouts. Ryan watches curiously. Timidly, he asks, "How do you make those?"

Add water. Add butter. Add heat. Done.

"Oh. Can you do that with pretty much any vegetable you want to cook?"

"Yeah..." Hillary and Rachel start to watch him suspiciously, as if they thought he were teasing them. But then...

I blurt out, "He's never made noodles before until last week!" I was glad my roommates took this news in much the same way I did. Their heads swiveled to look at the oddity was the noodleless creature Ryan.

"N-n-n-never?"

"Well, no. Not 'till last week..."

Can you make this? No. How about this? No. This? What do you think? No.

I eye him suspiciously. "Ryan... is there anything you can cook?"

"Uhh... well, I made mashed potatoes... once..." And then, hopefully, "Do you guys know how to make mashed potatoes?" We all nod solemnly, at which point Ryan droops again in shame. Then, he perks up again. "Oh, but have you known how to make them for a long time?" We gently assure him that we've been making mashed potatoes for as long as we could remember. His head dropped sadly.

He left rather abruptly after that.

But then, about an hour later, I hear another knock. I answer the door again to find Ryan peering in from the other side, looking extremely excited. "Jenna! Guess what? I made noodles! Wanna see?"

"Oh, I'm proud of you--"

"Wanna see 'em?"

"Um, sure... where are they?"

Ryan had commandeering my neighbor's kitchen. I walk in to see a pan of boiling water with noodles inside. And Ryan was just glowing happily. He dipped his stirring spoon into the hot noodle-water mixture to pull out a few noodles... then he poked them gleefully. "Ooh! Look, Jenna, noodles!"

"Yeah... noodles..." I look down at the pot. The water looked like it was about to boil over the sides. "Uhh... I think you put too much water in..."

He blinked and dropped his happy little noodles into the pot again. "I did? Oh no, what do I do now?"

"Uhh... turn down the heat a little. A stir a bit more... It'll still boil, just not as high..." That fixed, Ryan went back to glowing happily. And then, he pointed out his sauce. Yes, it was the kind they sell in jars. And he was so proud of it. I tried hard not to laugh. I ended up just shaking my head and smiling, and then I looked up at him. "How long do you have before your mission?"

"My availability date is June 19th!"

"And... you can't cook? Ryan, you're going to starve. There probably isn't going to be an abundance of frozen pizzas and Spaghettio's... especially since you won't have much money! You're going to die!"

He ignored me.

"Ryan, I'm going to teach you how to cook. Forget the potato gun. Cooking. I would prefer it if you lived through your mission."

"Uhh... I can cook more than you think! I... I can make macaroni and cheese! And mashed potatoes! I learned about gravy this weekend! You can actually make it from meat drippings... or you can buy packets for it at the store!"

"Um. Yes, I know." I looked pointedly at him. "So what are you going to learn to make this week?"

"Uhhh... Um. I think I'll perfect my mashed potatoes."

"Okay. And gravy. You'll make gravy too."

"Uhh, okay..."

And with that I went home.

Smokin'! And... Getting Hit On.

Forgive me, all. But I am about to relate to you an extremely silly story that quite demonstrates how very much I need to improve my observation skills. And it has to do with smoke.

This all happened last night (why is it that the funny things happen on Sunday?) while my roommate was attempting to Americanize some Japanese dish. I don't remember what they were called, but my best guess is nikamun, and I truly don't know what they are. The best I can do to describe them is like...deep fried (I suspect that's the Americanized part) meat eggrolls. Only not.

While Rachel, my roommate, was cooking the meat, Clifton (a guy from our ward) comes over and asks if we want to come over to his place for dinner in an hour. He thought he was too late, because he saw us cooking, but we said that we would go ahead and bring what we were making to the "family dinner" (because he and some of his roommates are in our family home evening group). He left us to finish cooking.

After the meat was done, Rachel started heating the oil, and then she, Hillary, and I started rolling the meat up in the dough. I was proud of mine, because I could make them so cute like little meat envelopes. I loved that mine had more aesthetic value than those of my roommates. While I was caught up in making these things so cute, and Rachel and Hillary were caught up in making them hold meat in the first place, we finally have the sense to realize that... it smells REALLY bad... and come to think about it, we can't really breathe very well either. Our attention captured, we look up in horror to see Rachel's pan of oil has heated up WAY too fast and is ejecting huge clouds of thick smoke into our once-breathable kitchen air. We kind of blink at each other and think something along the lines of Huh... that's not good.

Then came the idea that there is a smoke detector somewhere around here. While Rachel takes the pan off the heat, Hillary and I located the detector: right outside the kitchen in the hallway. We decide that since there isn't actually a fire, we don't want that going off and summoning the fire department. We hurriedly shut the kitchen-hallway door. Then we throw open the kitchen window, turn on the fan as loud and powerful as it can get, and then proceed to prop open the kitchen-outside door with chairs. At this point the air in our kitchen is not breathable. The three of us rush out the back door, down the stairs and onto the grass where the air is finally breathable.

At this point, the guy who invited us over had the misfortune of wondering if we were done yet. He calls Rochelle, one of our other roommates, who is safely shut in her room, which is farthest away from the kitchen. Since the kitchen door is shut, and I scientifically presume that the smoke would rather go out the windows and the back door than through the crack under the hallway door, and therefore assume she is safe. I did not take into account that she would get a call from Clifton and then come into the kitchen to track our progress.

According to Rochelle's account she unsuspectingly glides down the hallway, and finding the kitchen door shut, wonders, I wonder why the kitchen door is shut... it's never shut. Innocently she opens the kitchen door and -- "ARGGH!!!!!!" And she hangs up on Clifton.

She joins us down on the grass near our apartment, and we explain to her what happened. Just then, Clifton and one of his roommates, Jon, round the corner, and look bewildered to see our door propped open and expelling clouds of smoke and us sitting on the grass. This wasn't good, because we were hoping the boys wouldn't have found out.

By this time, Rachel decides that the air inside the kitchen is breathable, and goes off to put our toxic creations into the oven instead. The boys return to their apartment. Hillary and I cautiously follow her, discussing carbon monoxide poisoning and marveling about what sort of chemical reaction must have taken place in the oil for it to emit such vile smoke. We decide Rachel would die first if any of us died, so if Rachel collapsed, then we might call 911. Fortunately, we decide we are all healthy except for our sense of smell being scarred for life.

We eventually make it over to the guy's apartment with our toxic eggrolls, which apparently didn't taste so bad. The guys had pork chops and rice and salad and avocados and... juice? Huh. So we sat there laughing at each other, and then Clifton brings up movies. Last week he was mumbling to me about something to with Facebook and movies in class when he wasn't supposed to be talking, and at my expressed confusion, he gave up. he clarified at this dinner. Apparently, according to Facebook's movie application, we pretty much like all the same movies. It said we were a 82% match, which is practically impossible. I didn't really care, but he seemed excited. So the whole table gets into a discussion about what movies we like the most. I say, "Monty Python and the Holy Grail" and get great approval from the both guys and girls.

The subject turns slightly to favorite Disney movies. All the people who go before me say the ones I really like, such as Emperor's New Groove, Lion King, Finding Nemo, etc. So... for something new, I say something like, "I really like Beauty and the Beast... because I practically am Belle." Unfortunately, this results in a creepy comment from Clifton: "Well, I'm Beast!" And Rachel, bless her, blurts out, "AWKWARD!" I give her an approving look, and the subject changes.

Well, there's this roommate of Clifton's (Jonathan) who is EXTREMELY quiet, but extremely nice and polite, and his family is Peruvian. I'm sitting next to him, and when we start talking about music I say I like full orchestral music especially (as well as practically everything else). We exchange a few words and next thing I know he is asking me on a date. Ooh... smooth, quiet man. Strike when the rest of the people there are completely ignoring you except for me. I think he's taking me to see some Minerva Teichart at the Museum of Art and then to dinner tomorrow. I can't be completely sure about what he was saying because he was so soft-spoken.

All of us play a few games (except for Jon, who decides instead to scour the kitchen and table clean instead). Jon lets me have all the leftover rice. Then we head home.

We get home, and upon informing my roommates of this date, they immediately turn into teasing mode. They decide instead of having a marital status board (which originally listed us all as single, but then morphed into sillier things... i.e. arranged marriage to mystery Tibetan man... then dumping the mystery Tibetan man for the cardboard man in Hillary's closet...), that we should have a date tally. They continue to tease me about having two dates in one week. Yes, two. I have another one. On Friday. With Ryan. Who happened to be the one that made my entire apartment brownies and left them at our doorstep. Yes, that was him. We are going to see pirates on Friday.

And this is slightly disturbing to me, because I've only been on one date before this, and I am not used to getting hit on. At all. It's like... whoa, guys like me? And I have more dates than any of the other girls already? Dang it. Staying single is going be a lot more difficult than I thought it was going to be. Especially since I just found out Jon is pretty much the only RM in our entire ward. Oops.