Seizures and Love Letters

Guess what, everyone! I leave on Saturday morning, and I am sooo excited. You all really have no idea. (Perhaps you do, but I will always insist that you don't.) My flight to Salt Lake leaves at 9:40am, so if any of you want to see me, you'll probably have to do it by Friday night, because after that, I'm outta here!

So, as always, you can contact me via email (jennamarie.griffin@gmail.com) or Facebook... or, if you love me extra special, you can call me up (602)577-2899 or perhaps send me snail mail: 366 E. 800 N., Provo, UT 84606. I'll be back for a little longer than a week and a half for Christmas break... not too long though. I'm flying in the evening of December 23rd, and then flying back the morning of January 3rd. And after that? I won't be back until the following Christmas. I don't that'll be too much of a problem, since I think I'm pretty good at keeping in touch. :)

Well, still no good stories. But hey, I can tell you a secret. Or, perhaps it isn't really a secret.

I have an involuntary shivering problem.

I'll be minding my own business, and then, like a Frisbee from the middle of nowhere -- it hits me. I shudder, sometimes violently.

Okay, okay, you say. That happens to everybody. But I say, no! It doesn't! Truthfully, most people shiver only when they have a good reason to... like say, it's freezing. Or maybe something creepy just happened. Or maybe someone sneaked up behind you and blew cold breath on your neck. (Oh, if you don't shudder at the thought, something is sooo wrong with you.)

But I shiver often enough and obviously enough to warrant concern.

I'll be sitting on the couch happily, thinking happy thoughts, being perfectly warm, and then -- graaghglghlgghaa! A series of nerves fire and it's a seizuresque shiver.

You know, it doesn't bother me, most of the time. Except --

Sometimes I shiver over and over and over again in a short period of time. When this happens, the muscles around my spine start to ache and I get a little shaky. But that's okay, it doesn't bother me that bad. Although when it happens on dates, he'll look over at me and nervously ask if I'm okay. It usually scares the living daylights out of whoever he is, even if I assure him this is perfectly normal.

Sometimes this happens: I'll have both my hands in front of me, and suddenly those nerves will fire -- and my arms will tense up -- and more nerves will fire -- and -- SMACK! I've clapped quite loudly, and my hands are stinging. And all this, involuntarily. I can only pray this never happens during a funeral. Or when I'm in the same room as a clap-activated bomb. Or when I'm trying to hide from a killer in a dark room with clapper lights. This could be potentially disastrous, no?

My dad is also quite concerned about this shivering phenomenon. He tells me I should see a doctor or something.

I say, Whhhyyy?! It's totally benign. The worst thing that ever become of it is... hm. Annoyance.

Well, he says, the doctor could give you some anti-seizure medication.

Yes, I say, but why would I want to be taking that for the rest of my life? I couldn't think of a good enough reason. Honestly... I can't stand the sight of blood, so we won't have to worry about me slicing a major artery during neurosurgery or anything.

About a month ago, my dad asked me -- Do you ever shiver like that when you're sleeping and wake up?

Naw, I say.

Never? Are you sure? He proceeds to interrogate me, and I answer truthfully. Soon, I realize... well, yes, I have.

See, sometimes, I wake up suddenly in the middle of night scared to death. I feel like either someone has grabbed me by the shoulders and given me a good, hard shake, or like I've fallen from a few feet in the air onto the bed. I used to attribute this to bad dreams which I didn't remember, but were intense enough to trigger a physical reaction... but... honestly, the shivering thing makes more sense.

Well, of course, my dad would be the first to wonder... What if you're cuddling with your husband and you both fall asleep and then you shiver and wake him up!?

Hm. I'd expect that wouldn't be enough to keep him awake for too long... I don't think that's a disaster. Honestly, if I were him I'd be more worried about wifey stealing all the covers. BAHAHA! And I think many normal couples suffer from the blanket-hog syndrome and the subsequent freezing awakeness of the thus coverless spouse, so I doubt a little shiver now and then would damage our relationship much.

So, all I can say about the shivers is... the condition is much too benign to worry about. Unless that clap thing happens in close proximity to my significant other's face... then I might slap him pretty hard without meaning to. That could damage our relationship much, ya?

Besides. It is obviously a neurological condition. And -- guess what. I happen to be studying neuroscience. What better field than that to have at your disposal if benign ever turns to malevolent. But for now, I feel no need to see a neurologist so I can get anti-seizure medication. All that would really do... is poison my liver. On the other hand... shivers aren't shortening my lifespan much, so I shan't worry about them.

Now for a secret missionary fan club update.

In other news... Clifton... er, Elder Dudley, has recently been stuck in the MTC due to Visa problems. He's supposed to go to the Mexico Monterrey East Mission. Well, he's not in the MTC anymore -- he's been temporarily assigned to labor in the Salt Lake City South Mission. Which I don't mind so much, because that means any letters he sends will still reach me relatively quickly, whereas if he were sending me something from Mexico, I'd probably have to wait for a long time. He sent me a picture of him and a few of his missionary buddies mimicking the Abbey Road cover in the MTC crosswalk. Genius. I shall have to frame it.

Will... er, Elder Budge, is still in the MTC, but he's leaving for Argentina on Monday. Excitement! In less exciting news, some of the other elders in his district... got scavies, and the hermanas in his district... have milk-chugging contests. Mostly he just wants out of the MTC.

And Ryan... er, Elder Strong... has been in Australia for a while. However, I finally got a letter from him. He wrote it almost a month ago, on that eternally long flight from San Francisco to Sydney. He read all ten letters within the first thirteen hours of that flight (in between Preach My Gospel and the Doctrine and Covenants, he assures me). Yikes... that must have been a rather boring flight. :D Thank goodness for email though. His mom forwards emails to me and his other BYU friends. I can tell you that he doesn't like Vegemite; he says it tastes like someone broke a bunch of pens and spread the inky stuff all over his toast. His companion kind of freaked him out at first because he says "I love you" to everyone and their dog, even when they get flicked off. And, most recently, he's pretty much waay excited about preaching the gospel. He loves it, and I'm pretty much jealous that I'm not serving a mission right now.

What else can I tell you?! Hm...

How about Elder Jolley? I can tell you about him. You don't know who he is. Neither do I really. I only recently found out that his first name was Joshua. Before that, for lack of a first name, I called him Oscar. Well, Elder Joshua Jolley is a good story.

I have mentioned my roommate, Rachel, but I don't remember how well I've described her to you. She is rather short. And squirrel-like, definitely, squirrel-like. She makes bizarre noises, and is usually laughing hilariously at something. She often fantasizes about the perfect man -- tall, dark, and ominous (T.O.D.) and preferably a bass or baritone who enjoys serenading. She has a goal to beat the height differential between her parents when she finds her one true love, and her ideal courtship probably involves numerous food fights and contests to see who can make me spray hot cocoa out my nose the farthest. If any of you are Facebook friends with me, look at my videos. There's one entitle, Territorial Dispute. This is Rachel and I fighting over a pillow. Vicious. Like spider monkeys, vicious.

Rachel has a high school friend named Elder Ben Poulsen, currently serving a mission in the Big Apple. Prior to his departure, I talked to him on the phone twice, and met him once (at his farewell). Rachel, Hillary, and I, the terrible trio, wrote him collective letters last semester... Actually, I remember one letter in particular where we all got lipsticks of different colors and kissed the envelope. And then mailed it away, hoping to freak out a few mailmen, Elder Poulsen, and his companion.

Well, at some point during the summer, Elder Poulsen got a companion named Elder Jolley. Rachel was still writing Elder Poulsen, of course. Letters which no doubt were full of random expressions like, "Look! Flaming phoenix squirrels!" "We'll blow up the ocean!" "Hillary and Jenna are Irishmen and I'm an Irishwoman!" "I got Jenna to spray hot cocoa out her nose, all over the kitchen!" "Wakakakakakaaa..."

So...

Rachel phones me and tells me a tale. She's been receiving love letters from Elder Jolley... and some of these letters referred to a future time when they'd be married.

I demand that she tell me everything she knows about him. Everything. Well, she doesn't know what his first name is. Or where he's from. Or anything. All she knows is what Elder Poulsen has told her. And all Elder Poulsen has told her is that the mysterious Elder Jolley takes his pants off at the dinner table. Awkward, yes, but upon reflection... if there exists a girl for a guy like this, it's a girl like Rachel. And at this point I understand why Elder Jolley is sending Rachel love letters.

Rachel was a little freaked out by her not-so-secret admirer, so she sent back an enormous packet -- an "Application to Write Rachel", which also demanded an audition tape and two sources.

I obtain Elder Poulsen's address from Hillary, and send a letter. Demanding to know who Elder Jolley is. And, I add, in lieu of Johnny Lingo, that Rachel is definitely not an eight-cow woman. It's two dragons, or no deal, since I want a dragon and Hillary will want a dragon as well.

I get two letters back... one from Elder Poulsen, who was rather thrilled at getting a letter. He also asked if he might be eligible to win our marriage pan (an entirely different story, which I may tell later) and told me to warn Rachel about Elder Jolley's audition tape.

The other letter was from Elder Jolley. He informed me that his name was not Oscar, but that it was Joshua. He continued to inform me that he was wondering how he was going to get into Rachel's inner circle of friends, but that by writing his companion, I had provided him with a great opportunity. He proceeded to beg me to be his co-conspirator. And he wanted to know what sort of dragon I wanted.

Well, I was tempted to reply back that I would certainly be his co-conspirator. However, upon further thought, I decided that I ought to inquire more about the position before accepting it. Especially after what Rachel said about the package she received from said Elder Jolley. He had filled out the entire application... and provided an audtion tape, where he read the entire book of Deuteronomy. (Holy crap.) She told me he was not eligible to marry her because his voice wasn't deep enough (tenor) and he was a mere six feet tall (too short...). He also didn't seem to be quite ominous enough -- he's mostly just a clown. So sad. They seemed rather perfect for each other. Well, that is it for comical stories for now. Toodaloo!

[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.

Dances and Mission Calls.

Well... Friday afternoon was a tad stressful if I recall correctly. See, for Easter weekend, I had plans to go to my Auntie Aella's house. And I absolutely abhor having to do homework while I could be having some happy bonding time with relatives I don't see that often. So... mad rush to do homework. Mad, mad rush. Then Clifton called... "So... you can come over to my place at seven and we can have dinner... Or, I can just come get you around seven-thirty and we can walk over with Zach and Dallin and their dates." Well, of course, I'm sure you know which option I picked. Gimme the free food any day. Clifton made a nice pasta vegetable dish with a cheese sauce (yes, I'm sure my cheese-hating daddy cringed at that... but I thought it tasted good...). Zach and his date Karissa also shared in the pasta-y goodness. Dallin and Emma had already eaten, so they left before we were done and got to the dance before us. We finally set off to the distant Richards Building after the sun went down.

We were walking over, talking and teasing each other merrily when my cell phone goes off. "Oops," I say. "That's mine..." But the truth be told... it wasn't exactly oops. I left the ringer on purposely. I mean... when you know one of your bestest best friends is opening his mission call at his grandparents' house and you've made him promise to call you immediately thereafter, you kinda end up making sure you don't miss that call...

Clifton kinda looks at me. I tell him, "Ooh! Ryan just opened his mission call!" And of course, since Clifton is also a friend of Ryan's, I am definitely obliged to answer. The four of us were deathly curious. I answer and start what was about to be one of the silliest phone conversations I've had in a while, excluding ones I've had with family members. "Hello?"

"Uh... hello! Jenna?"

"Hey, Ryan." My, this is progressing slowly.

"Are you at your aunt's house?"

"No."

"Are you... on the freeway going to your aunt's house?"

"No."

"Are you... at home?"

Oh, the guessing game is it? Fine, I can take the Burger King route. Have it your way. "No."

"Are you on BYU campus?"

"Yes." You silly goose. I know you opened your mission call.

"Oh. Okay. Well..." And finally it came bursting out. "I opened my mission call! I'm going to the Australia Adelaide Mission! English speaking!"

We express our mutual glee. Meanwhile, Clifton, Zach, and Karissa are watching me intently. "Oh... Ryan? Can I tell Clifton?"

"...Are you with Clifton?"

... "Yes... And Zach and Karissa..."

"Karissa Wainwright?"

"Yes."

"And Zach Smith? And Clifton Dudley?"

"Yes, Ryan."

"... Are you at 116?"

"No."

"Yeah. You can tell them." I tell them. There are cheers of glee.

"...Where are you?"

"At the crosswalk."

"Oh... the one you'd cross to get to the HFAC or the Wilk?"

"Yes."

"... Where are you going?" My, you're inquisitive today.

"To a dance."

"A dance?" Very inquisitive.

"Yes."

"...Is it the same one Dallin and Emma are going to?"

"Why, yes. It is. He's already over there, and we're meeting him there..."

"Oh. Yeah. I should call him."

At this I raised my eyebrows... I wanted to say, What? You haven't told your roommate yet? "Yes. You definitely should. Right now."

And he did. And when the four of us finally met up with Dallin and Emma, Dallin and Emma were beaming. (The other four of us were too, but Dallin didn't notice, he was beaming too much.)

"I have news! I have news! Ryan's going to Australia!"

At this, Clifton took on his smuggest posture, and replied, "We know. He called Jenna." Thankfully, he did not add "before you" because that probably would have resulted in endless teasing for poor Ryan. Haha.

And then... the dancing began. Clifton is a whole level higher than me in dancing skill. But... he had promised to teach me some spiffy moves. The first song was a foxtrot. And that first time mostly he just scoped out what I knew. And then the next two songs... were also foxtrots. Since I was in a beginner's dance class, I hadn't ever really danced with a guy who really knew what he was doing. I learned a little about dance position... I knew that my left hand was supposed to fit nicely underneath the guy's right bicep. But apparently I was supposed to kind of push on him, because that would make it easier to lead. And apparently, my right hand tends to grip rather tightly on the guy's left hand ("Yeah, you're holding my hand a little tightly, but no matter! I like holding girls' hands!" "Clifton!"). And then a cha cha came on.

All right, I think I can pretty much do the cha cha. We did some basic moves, going through random moves like the parallel breaks, the sweetheart... and then we came to the cross body leads. This involves Clifton moving to the side, essentially opening the door for to whip around him. At least I'm moving quickly enough that I feel like whip. The stupid thing is, it's my favorite move and guys generally aren't good at leading it, so I don't get to do it often. So I was excited. Whip! Whoot.

As I execute the cross body lead, Clifton says, "Ooooooh..." And he does it again. And again. And again. All right I think I'm getting pretty good at this. Now Clifton starts giving me some more pointers. "All right. On the cross body lead, take really tiny steps on the cha-cha-cha, and then shoot forward on the second beat. In fact, don't move at all."

I do it. And... it feels even more whiplike. Yesssss. Clifton decides I'm good at the cross body lead, and so starts teaching me higher level steps similar to that. I'm not sure what they were called, but they invovled a lot of twirling as well as what I like to think of as whip action. Niiiice.

Then there were some waltzes. Clifton figured out what I knew, and then he endeavored to teach me some more moves. He taught me some pivots, and then... there was this one. It was actually quite scary for me, because basically... it involved spinning around and around and since I obviously am not the one leading that step, it is kind of like a mini-rollercoaster ride. It was rather disorienting, but Clifton was determined to get that one right. (I suspect he likes that move because spinning kind of means that the lady is closer to the man than usual... and holding on tighter than usual...) I'm not sure we ever did get it down. Whatever.

Clifton also taught me the basic steps for the nightclub two-step, the mambo, and the samba. We did a bit of swing too.

The last dance was a cha cha, in which Clifton did a lot of the cross body lead and the really twirly moves he'd taught me. When it was over, Clifton turned to me and said, "Jenna. You have the best cross body lead I've ever seen in a first-level student. Ever." Oh, yay! I'm actually good at something!

We all walked home, grabbing cupcakes from party-goers trying to get rid of some extra food. The cupcakes were mega-chocolatey so we stopped by Clifton's place for milk, and then he escorted me home. How kind of him, I don't think I would have made it home otherwise. I mean, you never know when those velocibears and badger-raptors will come out and eat you.

Yay!

I found out last night where Ryan is going on his mission (he called me whilst I was on a date, but that's ok...)! Australia Adelaide Mission! I... am so excited. And I'm not even the one going. :)

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.


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* 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.