What's black and white and red all over?

Of all weekends, it had to happen on Valentine's Day weekend.

Last Sunday:

I'm running out the door for church and am preeeety certain my team teacher had the primary lesson covered, but just in case, I grab the manual, and then look in the game closet to grab something quick that I could make a learning game from and entertain the kids in my class if I end up needing to burn time at the end, or something.

Aha! Jenga. Perfect.

Maybe the little guys could answer a question, or help repeat a scripture on their turn, or maybe we could just build something with the blocks.

I have had that Jenga game for like 10 years. We have played it a few times recently, but I didn't really pay attention.

Anyway...fast forward to Sacrament Meeting when Corbin takes the bag of Jenga blocks and DUMPS it on the floor. It makes a crazy loud crashing noise as all the blocks tumble from the bag and clunk onto the pile one at a time. I'm embarassed, but then all the blocks have been dumped and it's quiet again, and Corbin is playing happily (and more important, quietly) with the blocks, so we just let it go, since it isn't really distracting any more.

What IS disctacting is when he reaches up and hands a block to Aaron, who gasps and sort of shout-whispers to me "what IS this?!"

"What? Jenga. It's a game. I'm going to play it with my primary kids today" I hiss back.

He hands me the block.
It is red and says,

Ah!

What?!

Truth or Dare Jenga!

My sister, HolleeAnn gave it to me for a graduation present when I was 18! It was a joke, obviously, since I was headed off to school in Utah. We had laughed about how useful it would be at all those wild and crazy Mormon frat parties I'd be going to.

Aaron's like, "you can't play this with the primary kids! You'll get arrested!"

and Corbin hands me this one

Aaron laughs.
I die.

And then suddenly, I am very aware that we are in sitting in the middle of church and that SACRAMENT is being passed all around us and our naughty little game.

That our kids are playing with.

It's all hilariously irreverent....

wait.
What if someone sees this?
It is Valentine's Day.
We'd be known as that couple.
You know,

The ones with the sex game.
The ones with the sex game at CHURCH!
and that's when corbin starts THROWING the blocks and saying "choooooo!" He throws everything! I should have known.

I panic.
"Quick! clean them up! Only the red and black ones have writing on them! Put them back in the bag! Hurry!"

Corbin is having none of that. He couldn't have cared less what was written on those blocks. They were his, and we were not going to take them away. He starts screaming and pushing them everywhere in a little fit.

He sends one under the pew in front of us.

It's black. Crap.

The mom reaches for it, and all I can do is close my eyes and pray "please don't read that please don't read that please don't read that!"

Luckily, the 4 yr old beats the mom to it, and slides the block back under the pew to us, before she could notice it had anything written on it. Or at least I hope she didn't notice.

I pick it up and it says,

I'm dying.

This is it.

This is what it feels like to die.

By now, the girls have discovered the blocks-of-inappropriate-behavior and they are building grand estates for their squinkies with them. Little red and black Jenga blocks are speading like an oil spill across our pew and into the spaces around and under us! I can't keep track of them all! What if one gets left behind, or the people next to us see the block that says,

or how about

Are you kidding me?!

I can't stop sweating.

We have to get this cleaned up and out of here, like yesterday.

Aaron can't believe we even OWN this game and denies ever playing it when we were in college.

I'm pretty sure we played it once with Dave, Leisha, Kurt, Tessa, Keith, Arianne, Jen, Emily, Marissa, and Lance. In our defense: as a group of innocent/naive Single Mormon BYU coeds...it must not have gotten very interesting.

Because I am sure that if any of us had drawn

and done anything other than just gallop around the room like they were riding a horse

then we probably would have remembered the details of this game a little better.

Reunited...

My 10 yr high school reunion happened to be around the time I was in Ca, but seeing that my closest friends were not attending, I didn't see the point in going, either.
Instead, Annie, Emily and I gathered at Aimee's house for a little reunion of our own. It was so fun to catch up with these gals. We've known each other for 20 years, and every time we get together, we always laugh until our faces hurt and someone nearly pees her pants.
Aimee poses with the "tarts".

"After yooooooooooooouuuuuu...."

"K"

"I mean, anyone who can bake has a rolling pin, right"
"Yeah. I don't have a rolling pin."
"See? The evidence speaks for itself."

"I can't remember, who was the one who cut her finger at camp that one time we got stuck washing pots and pans?"
"we were always washing pots and pans!"
"I don't remember that, but it sounds like me to cut someone's finger"
"Well I do remember, so I must have been the one you cut!"

"Naw, you're fine, it's not a full blown mom haircut"

"My voice changed?!"
"I got taller!"
"I got shorter!"
"I got fatter!"

"Tarts? Homemade jam? I haven't felt this Mormon in years!"
"I will not pee my pants tonight!!!"
Later in the week, I met up with Annie again at OD's Kitchen in Gilroy, where we all used to go in High School when we cut class. Mmmm....kitchen sink. Good food. Good memories.

"The only thing we have to fear is fear itself"---and fireworks.

Looky looky what I came across while scanning wedding photos yesterday. I stand totally justified in my fear o' fireworks after finding this little play by play slide show that was taken at the end of my wedding reception. At some weddings, they throw rice. Other weddings have bubbles. My sister had butterflies for all of the guests to release.

Our wedding had fireworks.
Of course, Sparklers were illegal in our county, so they had to be purchased out of state, and "smuggled" in.

A) Being the "gentleman", Aaron braved the ring of fire first and paved a path to the car.


2) I freak out. (lots of hairspray, remember? And this was the end of the day, people. I'd had to re-apply several times. I'm more fumes than bride at this point)

D) Hold it.
Um. Hello?!
Hey, Romeo. How about if you get the crap back over here and get your wife safely into the car? Do you not see that I am pinned against our escape vehicle, being showered with sparks by a crowd of people who don't take me seriously when I say there is an entire can of Aqua Net on my head? And wait! Where are you going, anyway? Are you not driving?

Let's take a closer look at Aaron.
Busted.

{Nine}

"...Love is not love

Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove:
O no! it is an ever-fixed mark
That looks on tempests and is never shaken..."

-William Shakespeare

I disagree.
True love does alter.
It bends.
It stretches.
It sacrifices.
It strengthens.
It swells.
It grows.

Which is the why and the how it can "look on tempests and never be shaken". For 9 years my love has altered. It is the alteration that makes it true love. Real love must be willing to bend, divide, give.

I am so glad time is not my enemy, and that I will be with this guy forever and ever and ever.


And now, a little flashback from the archives of our wedding pics.
Enjoy!











Happy Anniversary, sweet, wonderful Aaron.
I love you very, very much.