Me, my life, and my stories...

I love the sound of rain as it pings off of metal.
I love the freshness in the air after a really good rainstorm.
I don't love getting my hair wet.

I love being domestic and making a home-cooked meal.
I love clean and comfortable surroundings.
I don't love when I'm the only one there to share them with.

I love freshly cut, very green lawns.
I love the look of flowers from afar.
I don't love, and have never done, yard work.

I love the excitement of going on a date.
I love the newness of a new relationship.
I don't love dating.

I love driving my car.
I love driving your car.
I don't love not being chauffeured around when I don't feel like driving myself.

I love the sound of a toddlers giggle.
I love the blossoming personalities of non-adults.
I don't love that I may never experience them with children of my own.

I love a single, kind act from a stranger.
I love secretly doing service for others.
I don't love feeling as if I've somehow become a service project.

I love meeting new people.
I love being part of a community of the like-minded.
I don't love how I mostly feel socially inept and awkward.

I love good friends.
I love the safeness in a good friend.
I don't love the inane fear I have that someday we will no longer be as important a part in one anothers' lives.

Yet...despite it all...I still love.

It's official! As of 09-09-09, I have officially graduated from...high school! Whew...so glad to finally have that one off my back! (Applause please. Cash gifts welcome.)

Here's the deal. I've had this recurring dream for the past decade.

I'm back in high school. It's my senior year. I'm rushing to get to class, but I need to stop by my locker to get my textbook. I try, and try, and try...but I cannot remember the combination to my locker. So...I throw in the towel and decide that I'm done with homework. I still attend all of my classes, but from that point on, I don't do another stitch of work. And, come year-end, I don't graduate.

Now...I know it's a silly dream. And...I've never given it much thought. That is, of course, until two weeks ago when I started tossing around the idea of going back to college. The application for UNLV had asked for high school transcript information. Luckily...in 1998, three years after graduating from high school, when I started taking my first classes through community college, I had ordered a couple official high school transcripts. So...I pulled out one of the transcripts, opened it up, and started to input the information into UNLV's application. As I was entering the information, something caught my eye. Down near the bottom, left-hand side of the transcript, it said:

English: Required 4.0 Attempted 3.5 Earned 3.5

Hmmm. Odd.

Needless to say, this piqued my interest a little. I looked at the body of the transcript for more detail. Sure enough, there was no English grade listed for the second semester of my senior year. As I looked further, there was also no grade listed for the same semester for Trigonometry, Typing, Government, or Spanish.

Interesting...

I continued looking down the transcript. At the end, on the bottom, right-hand side, it said:

Total Credits: Required 23.0 Attempted 20.75 Earned 20.75

Seriously?!?! From the looks of it, it appeared that I was 2.25 credits short of graduating!!!

Okay...so in reality....I know that I walked with my graduating class. I have my diploma (I'm bummed that no employer has EVER asked to see that thing). But...then the details of my dream came flooding back. Is it possible that I had stopped turning in assignments during the second semester? To be honest, that's going back 14 years. I think I remember doing all of my work. But...did I? Is it possible that I walked at graduation, but was supposed to attend summer school for those missing credits? Was my little recurring dream MORE than just a dream? Or...did they somehow mess up my transcript. Ayayay!

So...I picked up the phone and called the Clark County School District. Of course, they couldn't give me any information over the phone. But, I was able to order a new transcript, and was told that I could pick it up in a week.

I've spent the last week kind of chuckling about the whole thing. What if I picked up my transcript and it was true...that I hadn't really graduated? Would I have to include that on a resume' in the future? Would I have to pull a "Billy Madison" and finish taking my pre-calculus class on my lunch break at the high school near work? Or...would the school district be super-chill about the whole thing and give me "work credit" for all my years in the workforce (slowly nodding head up and down...ahhh yeahhhh). :o)

Well...finally 09-09-09 came, and I made my way down to their offices. When the nice lady behind the counter (not really, she was in a MOOD!) handed me the transcript, I opened it, and...

Woo Hoo! I'm a graduate! (Me...spinning in circles, doing a little dance, pointing my fingers in the air, wearing my graduation cap and tassel.) Those extra credits even "up"-ed my GPA. Oh yeah...I'm totally rockin' a 4.514.

Now...if only those recurring, non-graduating dreams would just go away... :o)

Admittedly...sometimes I have a "pity party" and get my nose ever-so-slightly out of joint. Yesterday was one of those days.

Being single and childless...my parents and siblings (and my sisters' four kids) are the only family I have. They all happen to live in the same house, so they are constantly involved in each others lives. I, however, live 15 miles away in my own little corner of Las Vegas. Sometimes I hear about school plays, and barbecues, and nights out...well after the fact. Even when I tell them how much I'd like to be involved (and even am fortunate enough to have a job that allows me to take time off from work for such things)...they get so tied up in their own world of "hectic-ness", that they don't even think about keeping me in the loop. I understand that, because they're own lives are surrounded by it, they often forget just how important family time is...even for those of us who are single. Often times, the only contact I have with my family is when I make the effort to drive out to their home, or when I pick up the phone and call. Anyhow...

I had spent the better part of the afternoon brooding about how I hadn't seen or heard from my family in nearly a week and a half, which...as it just so happens...was the last time I drove out to Henderson. The thought that was running through my head was..."Well...we'll just see how long it takes for them to notice that I haven't come around. That'll show 'em." Yes...for some reason, those inner thoughts that I sometimes have are often those of a spiteful 14-year-old girl. Can't help it. And no...though "spite" was there, I wouldn't have followed through on it. I had every intention of driving out to spend time with my family this weekend.

But...here's where my "pity" story takes a turn. I was sitting at home when my phone rang last night. It was my mom. She said that Lexy (my three year old niece) had said to her..."Shauna need come home." My mom looked outside to see if my car was there, and it wasn't. Figuring Lexy was confused, she told her that I wasn't there. Then Lexy said again..."Shauna need come home." My mom told her that I was at work. Once more, Lexy said..."Shauna need come home." And then it hit my mom. Lexy missed me.

Don't get me wrong. I know my niece...the sideways glancing girl, who scowls when you tell her you love her, refuses to give hugs because she's just that obstinate, but will run out to your car to give you a kiss before you drive away...loves me. But...she's a piece of work who definitely likes to give a person a hard time. (And...to be honest...I find that trait completely endearing in her). She's the type of child who, if you ask her a question as she's walking through the room, will turn her head and look at you, roll her eyes and flash the cutest smile at the same time, and continue walking out of the room...all the while leaving your question unanswered (not in a disobedient sort of way, but in a teasing sort of way). And...though, as I've said, I know she loves me, it knocked me off my feet to hear that she actually missed me. All at the same time, it broke my heart, and yet made it happy again.

Late last night, just before her bedtime, I called to talk to Lexy (well...not really talk...but let her babble on one end of the phone about anything her little three-year-old heart desired, while I listened ever-so-intently on the other end). Before my sister handed her the phone, she told me that Lexy had been talking about me all day, from the time she woke up that morning. She'd been telling anyone who would listen that "Shauna need come home."

From the mouths of babes, right?

"Hi. Have we met? I'm Shauna. I'm a loan administrator for a bank out of California. I'm an aunt to four of the most adorable kids you'll ever meet. And...I'm a Sunbeam teacher."

Just last week, a male co-worker (who just happens to think that I should be more proactive in my search for a husband) asked if I had any big plans for the weekend. Before I could even start to answer, he said..."Of course not. You're gonna go hang out with your one guy friend who doesn't even like girls, then spend time with your family, nephews and nieces, work on your lesson for the little kiddos from church, and then teach the lesson on Sunday."

Honestly...the description was nearly spot on. But...that's what I had become. Strange as it may seem, for the past year I have very much identified myself as "the Sunbeam teacher". And...anyone and everyone who had any interaction with me knew it.

This past Sunday morning, I got a phone call that a member of the bishopric wanted to meet with me. As one does, I started thinking about all of the possibilities. Was I going to be asked to take on an additional calling? I would have said yes, but I was nervous because I already was spending hours upon hours upon hours preparing lessons for the 3/4 year olds (yes...even I can admit I was overdoing it). Or...was I going to be "reprimanded" for giving them a Starburst or a lollipop at the end of class (their reward for keeping their eggs warm - see previous post)?

The meeting started out well. He asked how the class was going. I told him it was good. He said that I had been doing a "terrific" job with the little ones. I told him how grateful I was for the calling because, especially after having been inactive for so long, it really gave me a reason to be there every Sunday. And then he said...."Well, we'd like you to stay in Sunbeams for the next few...". I swear I thought he was going to say years. And...being completely honest...I was ready and willing to accept right then...right there. I love these little kids so much. They are so smart, and fun, and...they even like me!...which is the best part. :o) So when he finished his sentence and said...."weeks"...I was temporarily stunned.

I didn't know what to say. Not only was I being released from a calling (it's not a big deal, right? we've all been through that), but...I was losing a little bit of my identity. Goodness...I've been "the Sunbeam teacher" for a year. How do I go about not being "the Sunbeam teacher"? And...not only that...but I'm gonna miss those little ones. They're gonna have a new teacher, someone new to take my place as the one they get all excited to see.

Honestly, I'm super excited for the change, because it came with a new calling to be part of Enrichment. I love everything about Enrichment (even when I haven't always been able to attend). I love what it does to build up and bring together the women in the ward. I'm so excited to be able to learn new things, to help plan and bring projects and lessons together.

Up until now, I've mostly just known the adults in Primary, and those adults who were the parents to my little Sunbeams. And I'm thrilled to think that I am going to be able to attend Sunday School classes, and Relief Society, and to get the opportunity to know more adults in the ward.

Simply put...I can't wait for this next chapter to begin...

(06/18/09 - I've been meaning to add a disclaimer to this post for weeks! I wanted to say that the reason this post is as detailed as it is, is simply because I know that I had searched online with keywords such as "Reverent" and "Sunbeams". I found one idea here, and another there. I thought..."Well..if someone is looking for ideas...hopefully they'll land here and it will all be spelled out for them in one place!". So...thanks for putting up with all the lengthy desciptions!)

After church last Sunday, I did a lot of thinking. I knew that my Sunbeams would really benefit from a lesson on Reverence. But...according to the schedule, this week I was supposed to teach the lesson titled "I Am Thankful for My Ears". The "Reverence" lesson wasn't scheduled for nearly 5 more months. I thought about it a lot over the next two days, and finally called the counselor in the Primary presidency to get permission to switch out the lesson. She wholeheartedly gave me the go ahead. So...all week, I researched online different ways to discuss reverence with the little 3 and 4 year olds.

I could not have been more pleased with how the entire day went today.

It began with sacrament. I hadn't known, but it turned out that the primary president, relief society president, and 1st counselor of the bishopric all gave talks focused on reverence. How appropriate.


Then we went to Sharing Time. Typically, my class sits on the first row on left side of the room. And...I usually gravitate to the far left adult chair simply because there are small children who sit behind me, and I don't want to impede their view of the front of the room. However, this has caused an issue because there are a handful of kids who want to sit right next to me. So...this is usually how the row ends up looking ("A" is for the adult chairs and "c" is for the child chairs)...

For a girl who hadn't really gone to church for most of her adult life, I honestly still can't get over the fact that there is no other place I'd rather be on a Sunday. I love teaching my Sunbeams (though it can be trying at times). And ... even though I know they are all of three and four years, I spend hours each week preparing my lessons (or is it ... hours each week preparing me?). Either way ... I am so grateful to have a calling ... especially one that is at the exact level I would need it to be. :o)


I also love getting to do my Visiting Teaching each month. The women that I visit are some of the most amazing girls I know. I love to listen about their families, their lives, their goals. And ... I also love getting to share my life with them a bit. Being in Primary since a month after I came back to church, I don't often get a lot of "adult" conversation. So ... I am thankful for every little bit that I get.


Which ... is also why I love being a part of the Enrichment Dinner Group each month. Yes ... it definitely is not one of those things that takes a lot out of me ... making a sign-sheet, choosing a restaurant, a night, and then making the reservation. But ... again ... I love all of the adult conversation, and the fact that it gives me a venue to get to know, and really enjoy, all the awesome women in my ward.


Anyhow ... that said ... I'm sitting here at home tonight working on my lesson for the Sunbeams (it is all about being thankful for our hands), and also working on a few handouts for visiting teaching this month. I was so excited with how the VT kits turned out, that I decided to post a picture. There's a little message from conference, a recipe for Oreo Truffles, and a little birdie bookmark (made with a paperclip). I love them!!!

So...Saturday the 14th was Alyssa's 8th birthday party. My mom, my sister and I spent two weeks preparing for "Spa Day".


As each of the girls arrived, we gave them a pair of Hanna Montana slippers and a Barbie headband to help get them into "spa" mode.







There were three stations: nails with yummy apple scented lotion hand massages, Strawberry Shortcake temporary tattoos, and yummy strawberry bath salt pedicures.








After all 9 girls (split into groups of 3) had a chance to go through all three stations, we had them all lay on fluffy blue pillows as we gave them avocado and oatmeal facials, and covered their eyes in soothing cucumbers (ahhh...so relaxing).




After the facials, the girls got all washed up just in time for pizza, presents, and then yummy mini birthday cupcakes.






At the end of the day, the girls each got a picture to take home to commemorate their day with Alyssa.




Spa Day was fun...and...as one might have predicted...it wore the adults out!!

They sometimes say that a girl can determine the type of guy she wants to marry based on her own father. If the father is not the most upstanding of individuals, the girl may choose to look for a mate with the complete opposite attributes. And if the father is a great guy, well then...she'll look for someone with those same qualities.

At work today, this topic came up. And...I have to say...my dad is definitely the latter.

{Me, Sonya, Dad and Grandma on Grandma's Wedding Day}

Hmmm...

So...one of the boys that I've posted about recently called me the other day. Because I'm feeling a bit superstitious (not exactly sure why - you know me, I have no shame), I've decided to not yet say which one it is. Suffice it to say...the call was out of the blue, and I'm not sure what the underlying reason for the call was. We're gonna be getting together in the next couple of days, and I'm curious to see what comes from it. I'll keep ya' posted...

It's been almost a month. I have so much to say, and yet very little that is noteworthy. Isn't that usually the case?

Okay...so a couple of things.

The "choir guy".

The "choir guy" invited me over for a game night. I wanted to go, but I didn't want to go. I wanted to go for all of the obvious reasons. I didn't want to go because I was having a bad hair day, and because it had already been a long day, and because all of the previous game nights I'd gone to at his house had been with his family, but I knew that all of his family had moved out of state, so I was going to be surrounded with a bunch of his friends that I didn't know, and I was afraid that I'd be all "anxiety-ridden" being around a group of people that was completely unknown to me, and what if I made a complete idiot of myself, and what if they all didn't like my hair and thought that it always looked that way, and what if...and what if...and what if?!?!? Yes...I know I have issues.

After three...four...or five phone calls to Matty to see if he could talk me out of going...I finally caved and headed out towards his house. The "party" was supposed to start at 7:00. I purposely stopped and did a little Target shopping because it was my complete intention to show up late and sneak out early. At 7:30, I rolled up to his place. I walked up to the front door and knocked. When he answered and let me in, I looked around the room to find...that I was the first one there. I sat down and we chatted a little. About 15 minutes later, a friend of his arrived. It was a guy from his ward. We sat around the island in his kitchen and did a little bit 'o socializing.

After a little while, I asked who else was supposed to be coming. And that's when the "choir guy" said that the 3 of us was it...there was no one else. Okay...small party. And then the friend started grilling me. Turns out he's a professor of dating and relationships (or something to that effect) at UNLV. He asked me why I thought I was single, and if it was hard to find someone to date in Las Vegas. Seriously??? Not only is he pointing out my single status, but right in front of the "choir guy"...as if there's not enough awkward history there. To my credit, I answered the questions pretty straightforwardly. I told him that I did not think it was hard to find someone to date in Vegas, but that I did find it hard to find someone who was LDS and date-able in Vegas (because at my age...it just is). Even as I'm answering his questions, I'm looking at him, he's looking at the "choir guy", and the "choir guy" is looking at the counter. Ayayayay. Then he asked me if I've ever considered resorting to using a bat to knock a guy over the head and drag him home and tell him that he was marrying me. Again...me looking at him, him looking at the "choir guy", the "choir guy" looking at the counter. Awkward. At that point, I think we were able to steer the conversation to politics and other things less controversial. But, throughout the night, he kept making comments, and nudging me, and nodding towards the "choir guy". Either they were in cahoots (wouldn't that be something), or he got ripped after I left that night. Yikes.

Hot Cop

Turns out I was right. It was the Hot Cop from days gone by. He called me a few days later, and with a bit of a chuckle to his voice, said something to the effect of..."Got your letter. Yeah...sounds like that was me. Yeah...I know Kerri, her last name was ****. Um yeah...so...funny. Guess I'll talk to you soon. My number is ********. Call me."

I didn't call him back.

You see, I had my confirmation, which was what I was after. And...I kinda needed to back off. Remember...my sister lives with my parents...who live across the street from Hot Cop. Over a few weeks, she had been telling me how cute he was, and how nice he was, and how much fun she'd been having hanging out with him. At first, I had told her about the "history" there, and had asked her to not be into him...as if that would ever work. But...then I changed my mind. Goodness...if she could find happiness with him (and who knows where this whole thing will even go)...who am I to stand in the way of that? I love my sister a bunch, and...he is a really nice guy. I would want nothing more than for her to finally find a really nice guy to make her happy. So...we'll see where this one leads...

My Cousins

So....a few weeks ago, I got an e-mail from my cousin on his mission. He'd said that there was a guy there that he just thought the world of, and that he wanted to pass along my e-mail address to. Sure...why not. I'm not exactly having luck on my own, right? And then a few days ago, his older brother, my other cousin, sent me an e-mail. He mentioned that he had a friend who was in his 30's who had never been married, and had no kids. He was wondering if he could give him the link to my blog so that he could check me out. Again, sure...there's no harm in accepting a little assistance. But...it does beg the question...has someone put out an all-points-bulletin on my behalf? [For any friends of my cousins that may be reading this: I'm really not all that pathetic a case. Honest... :o) ]

My Nephew

So...I mentioned that I'd been a terrible aunt and had left my nephew at scouts after he'd closed my car door on his hand. (I really didn't think he'd hurt himself.) And...that after they'd brought him home that night, I saw his black and blue thumb all bandaged up.

Well...a week later, I was playing "Babysitter-Aunt-Shauna" again. We'd been keeping his thumb bandaged up (partly because we were afraid of the nail falling off). Wouldn't you know it??? He came barrelling down the stairs one night on my watch and...the nail was gone. I was trying not to freak him out, and...calm as...well...me, when I'm not freaking out...I told him that it was normal, and happened all the time, and that we'd just bandage it up again until it began to heal. I did everything in my power to keep a straight face as I put the bandages back on, and tried not to get even the slightest glimpse of it. I think I did a pretty good job, too! He was happy, and headed back upstairs to play.

I...on the other hand...was still slightly freaked out, so I picked up the phone to call Matty. As I was telling him about how gross it was, and how I was trying not to look at it, Tyler came around the corner...grinning like he'd just caught me doing something. "Are you talking about my thumb?" Me..."No...not at all. I was talking about this thing I saw my neighbor do today." Him..."No...I think it sounded like you were talking about my nail-less thumb." Okay...so I was caught. I still didn't admit it to him, and he just went back upstairs to play. Good thing he's not too tender-hearted. Again...I suck.

To Conclude

So...that's about it. Like I said...a lot to say, but not much that was noteworthy. :o)

Okay...so here's the quick story.

Last week, my mom mentioned that someone had bought the house across the street from her. It had sat vacant for over a year. She said it was a divorced dad with two kids. What can I say? ...in one ear and out the other.

Then yesterday, I was heading out to Henderson to take care of the nephews and nieces while my sister went to class (my parents are on a trip to Missouri). My sister called when I was nearly there to let me know that she had gone to pick up my brother from work, that Josh and Alyssa were at their dads', Tyler (the oldest) was in the house, and that she'd asked the new neighbor to keep an eye on Lexy outside with his girls until I got there. Real quick...let me point out that the other longtime neighbors were out there in the area as well, so it wasn't as if she was leaving him with a complete stranger. Also...he is a Henderson cop. Anyhow...I told her I'd walk over and get Lexy as soon as I got there a few minutes later.

I pulled up into my parent's driveway, and he came over and introduced himself. He said, "You must be Shauna.". Ummmm...yeah. Then he said, "You work for a bank in town? City National?" Again....ummmmm....yeah. Then he said, "And you're a senior vice president?" Aha! He got one wrong. But then he corrected himself, "No...not senior, but vice president, correct?" Couple of things...1) Normally I'm the one with all of the questions, and I didn't like him knowing so much (if only surface level) about me without my having told him, and...2) Who was telling him all this? I had my suspicions.

So...we chatted for about 45 more minutes, while his two girls and my niece played outside. After a while, he asked if I wanted to walk across the street to see the renovations (carpet, tile, paint) that he'd been working on for the past week. Sure...why not, right?

The place is totally cute....totally done in rich shades of brown (my favorite color). And...for a guy...he's got a lot of style.

Like I said, we talked to each other for just under an hour, and then a friend of his showed up and they got back to work. I stayed outside with all three of the girls, and his two daughters were all over me..."pick me up"..."swing me"...."tell me how to spell winter". I love kids...doesn't matter who they belong to. I was enjoying it just as much as they were.

So here's the thing...it had been bothering me all day today. I couldn't get the divorced guy off of my mind, and I wasn't sure why. And then...as I was driving out to Henderson for night #2 of babysitting...it hit me. I know him.

I had every intention of walking over and asking him a few details. But, when I got there, he wasn't home. So...brain still rattling around the memories in my head...I did what I do when the shame isn't exactly anywhere near the surface level. I wrote a quick letter. Here's how it went:

"Hey Joe...So...it's been driving me crazy all day. I think I know you. Before working at the bank, I used to work at Kolob Credit union...like a thousand years ago. At first, I was a teller, but eventually I worked in the loan department. I'm certain I helped you in both capacities. Later...I worked at a law office with a red-head named Kari (though I can't remember her last name). If memory serves, her husband was a cop-friend of yours, and you helped him put down some wood floors in his house. I remember asking Kari to snap a few pictures of "the person I think is you" so that I could stare at those muscles working (tying back to those days when I was crushing hard on that hot cop that used to come into the credit union.) Of course, I could be completely wrong, and this could be nothing more than a silly case of mistaken identity." I signed it "Shauna, the aunt to that group of kids across the street".

My thought process: 1) I have no shame in having a crush way back in my early 20s. And...I find my antics back then to be quite humorous in retrospect (like the day I stopped dead in my tracks when I saw the cute rear-end of one of the members. My eyes were so fixated that I didn't even notice he had turned around and totally caught me ogling him.) 2) If it's him...sweet. The not-so-secret of my past is out. 3) If it's not him...well...now he knows that I'm not against a covert operation to get pictures of hot guys working. Really...it's win/win/win all around. :o)

At nine o'clock tonight, as I was getting ready to head home, I began to second guess things. I started to wonder if it wasn't even him. So, I decided to go over and take the note off the door and just catch him in person to poke and prod a little. Only, as I walked out the front door, and looked across the street...his car was there. He and a guy friend were working in the kitchen (which is at the front of the house). The note on the front door? ...nowhere in sight.

I really need to think these things through sometimes.

Oh well... :o)

The end of 2008 was a sad time for me. It meant that my Sunbeams...my girls...would be moving up to their next class. Melody, Avery, Brooklyn, Julianna, and Kylie were some of the sweetest little girls. And...with their leaving...it meant that I would be getting a whole new class in 2009. I have a team-teacher this year, and we have 9 kids...5 of them boys. The first week of teaching the recently-graduated-nursery-kids, I found what their two biggest struggles were. They wanted snacks, and they wanted to know "what comes next?". I'd already discussed the snack issue with the primary presidency. We'd decided that I would give them snacks for the first few months, except for on fast-Sunday, and then would begin to ween them off. I also incorporated the "snack"-issue into the "what comes next"-issue. And that's how the Sunbeam Clock was born. So far...it's working like a charm. It also gives me 6 more reasons (one for each section) to have more class-interaction. They love getting to come up and move the hand to the next activity.


Best of all, the apple is attached with Velcro so that when it's fast-Sunday, or when I finally begin to ween them from their weekly snacks, I can remove the apple, and the kids will know (without having to ask) if they are getting a snack/treat that day.

A couple weeks ago, the Enrichment committee let us know that we were going to be making 72-hour kits in January. I was pretty excited about this because I have been spending a lot of time lately working on food storage, supplies, and such. (I love the "Self Reliant Sisters" of Henderson.) Anyhow, the Enrichment committee suggested that everyone make one kit for each person in their household. Does anything in this picture stand out to you?


Yep...ever the optimist, I made two. I'm bound to find a mate before they both expire on 01/22/14, right? :o)

So...last week I played two roles at once....Aunt Shauna and The Babysitter.

For those of you don't know, my sister and her four children live with my parents. Sonya, my sister, is currently going to class at night to become a physicians' assistant. We are all so proud of her.

Last week, my parents went on a cruise. With my sister still in school, this meant that Aunt Shauna was on babysitting duty at night after work. "Babysitting" isn't quite the right word, because it implies that it was a job...and it absolutely wasn't. I love those kids so much, and could never get enough of them.

The first night, I left work early and headed out to Henderson. When I got there, my sister let me know that Tyler had math homework that night. Though Tyler does not like doing math, his Aunt Shauna surely does! So...I told him to get his homework and we'd get it done all quick-like. And that's when he showed me that he had to do 78 review problems for semester exams. Three hours later, we finished...just in time to make dinner and then start Alyssa's spelling and reading homework. By eight...we were finished. The boys headed upstairs to play their video games, and us girls stayed downstairs to watch American Idol (I only like the first episodes of each season). At 10:00 that night, after all the kids had been put down to bed, my brother came home to relieve me of my duties. I went home and crashed.

Thinking that day one had left me tired, I got re-energized to head into day two. Once I got there, Tyler promptly told me that he had no homework because of exams. Josh had already done his homework. And...when my sister had tried to sit down with Alyssa to do her homework, Alyssa let her know that "Aunt Shauna does it better". Thrilled to not have to work on 2nd grade spelling, math and English...my sister turned it all over to me. It was two hours of trying to keep her focused (it's hard when everyone else is having fun because they have no homework, right?). But...we stayed the course and got it done. I quickly fed the kids, and then had another brother come over so that I could run Tyler up to his scout meeting at the chapel (unfortunately, four kids do not all fit in the Mustang). However, once at the church...sitting in the dark and empty parking lot...I realized that maybe Tyler was not so sure of when his scout group met. After all, it was only his second week. So...I headed back to the house and dug around until I found the number for his bishop. After talking to the bishops' wife, we realized that scouts was not Tuesday at 6:00, but rather Wednesday at 7:00. I let my brother head back to his house, but made arrangements for a do-over the next day. At 10:00 that night, my relief came, and I went home.

The third night I had a plan. The kids and I were going to make mini-sloppy joes and then decorate cookies. I had forgotten, somehow, about the hours of homework ahead of us. Not to mention...Tyler's practicing of his trumpet. Need I say more? So...we did the homework, made the mini-sloppy joes, and finished eating just in time for my brother to show up so that I could take Tyler back to scouts. When Tyler and I got to the chapel, I told him that I wanted to talk to his scout master to see if they could make arrangements to bring him home. We sat in the car for about 10 minutes until finally Tyler recognized a face. "That's him! That's him!". I got out of the car, and walked over to the scout master. As I was posing my question, Tyler got out of the car and, after shutting the door, started shaking his hand saying that he'd shut the door on it. He wasn't crying, and was a bit non-chalant about it, and...to be honest...I thought he was kidding. I finished making arrangements for him to get home, and then I got in my car and left. An hour later, they brought Tyler home. He came walking in and said...in the saddest voice ever...."Aunt Shauna, why did you leave me?" My reply? "Because you had scouts." Not for a second did I think he'd actually been hurt. But then he showed me his thumb that had been bandaged up. When he took the bandage off, his thumb and nail were all black and blue. Uggghhh. What a terrible aunt! So...I made up for it by being extra attentive the rest of the night. But...geez....how awful!

The fourth day, the last day, came and went like a breeze. The kids and I spent hours playing Guitar Hero on the Wii. I love that they aren't the "challenging" types on those games. As soon as they found the option to play "jointly", where they could encourage one another rather than plotting each others demise, they were all into it. It was a fun night. When I went home that night, I was beat. I loved being an aunt at night, and getting to tuck each one of them into bed...but hours and hours and hours of homework, and reading, and trumpets, and cooking, and dishes, and cleaning up after four kids...not to mention working a full-time job during the day....I was exhausted.

But...all of the extra time did pay off. For the past week, every time they try to put Lexy (the toddler) down to bed, she asks..."Where's Sha-Na?" Ahhh...they love me. They really do! :o)

So...a little history (which, of course, means...a lot more history than you'd probably like)...

Back in my mid-twenties, I...again...had been very inactive. I decided that I was going to try really hard to take part in the singles' ward in Henderson. The day of my 25th birthday, I went to a meeting. It was the Sunday they were having the Christmas program during sacrament. I sat there, watching the choir sitting on the stand. When it was time for them to sing their first song, I watched as a guy stood up from the back row, walked to the front of the choir, and began to lead them.

A couple of things. I had never seen a man lead a choir before. I knew that Mr. Ball (I think that was his name) was the choir director at Basic Highschool the year before I started there. But...never at church had I witnessed a male director. (Of course, this could be because my own mother had been "pigeon-holed" as the ward organist and choir director for as far back as I can remember.) Anyhow, he had light brown hair, was cute (from what I could tell sitting at the back of the chapel), and obviously liked music. I was all atwitter. Needless to say, the first thing on my docket was to find out when choir met. I NEEDED TO JOIN.

Not only did I start going to choir, but I started going to my meetings as well. It was a brief period of activity, and it was fun. After I'd been back about a month, I started volunteering to help out at Saint Timothy's. That was a fun time. It didn't hurt any, that this "choir guy" also volunteered, and I got to hang out with him some more. We were becoming friends.

At first, I wasn't very open with anybody about my secret lustings (tee hee...that's a funny word to use in this context, because it was so much more innocent than that). But, there were a few girls in the ward who were not so secret about their like of the "choir guy". I found myself in some very odd situations...such as the night I was out with one of them and she showed her stalker-skillz by driving out to his house on the other side of town. Apparently, this was something she did often. I felt quite uncomfortable knowing where he lived when he'd had yet to invite me.

Eventually, this "choir guy" began taking piano lessons from my mom. As I was living at home at the time, not only was I hanging out with him at church, between meetings, at choir, and at St. Timothy's, but I was also hanging with him at my house. It was a fun time.

And then he decided to buy a house. Given that I had worked in banking for years, and was currently in lending, he started posing lots of questions to me. I'd answer them, and then he'd find more. On top of all of the other times I was seeing him, he was also coming in and visiting me at work. Part of me began to think that it wasn't all just "friendly" conversation we were having. I began to wonder if it was possible that he was interested in me.

(Now...for those of you who I worked with at Kolob, I'm sure this is all sounding very familiar. I always have been an open book.)

Anyhow, about the time that I was getting all of these "visits", Valentines' Day was coming up. My friend (you know who you are) bet that I couldn't right a few quick poems for a card she was planning on giving a guy. Always up for a perceived challenge, I wrote the following:

ATTEMPT #1
If you find this cake is lacking
in your quest for something sweet,
I've got my own brand of sugar
that even C&H could never beat.
So I offer this proposition.
Hmmm...do you think you are up for this task?
Movies and then...who knows?!?
All you gotta do is ask!

ATTEMPT #2
Although it's but a card,
and the message ain't that great,
there's something you should know
about that thing that they call fate.
Good friends are hard to come by.
I'm looking for one in you.
If ever you need a friend,
just know that I'll come through.

Okay...okay....remember....it was 7 years ago.

Anyhow, that put me on a "poetry" kick. My Kolob-girls knew how much I was into the "choir guy", so they challenged me to write him a poem that would ask him out on a date in a quirky way. It took me less than 24 hours to write my "Ode to (the "choir guy")". The "Ode" was a three page date invite. You see, I still hold to the fact that I can take anything and write about it. So...when the challenge came up, I did my research. I started by googling his name. Wouldn't you know it? A hit on the first try. Turns out he had created a webpage back when he was attending BYU Hawaii. I found out all about his 10 (or so...I can't remember now) brothers and the one lone sister. I found out that, not only was he currently an elementary school music teacher, but that he was into math as well (shout out to my fellow mathletes!!!). I found out that he loved to dance...the hula, the cha-cha, the samba...pretty much all of the -a's. So, I wove together this quirky, inventive "ode", which also happened to clearly point out that I was not a stalker, but was an internet sleuth. If I had a copy of it now, I'd post it for you to read. It was kinda hilarious. Anyhow, I held on to it for five or six months, but never got enough courage to give it to him. For a long time it sat in the back of a notebook. I'm certain I got rid of it at one point.

And...it's been 7 years now. Over that time, we'd hang out often...and then not so often. Sometimes I'd get my hope up that something would come from our friendship, and other times it was plain as day that there just would never be that connection. At one point he was engaged. Her name was Ruth. I was happy for Ruth, because the "choir guy" was, and is, a really great guy...but sad for me. Eventually, I was no longer even sad for me. I came to accept that our friendship was just that...a friendship.

The last time I saw the "choir guy" was a few months after I moved in to my condo (about 20 months ago). He came out to give it the once over, and congratulate me. Ever the master of frugality, he said to me..."Now I know who buys all that crap at the stores." It made me smile...

A few months ago, my mom (who happens to teach piano to a student in his class) called to mention that she'd heard he'd gotten married. I sent him a quick text of congratulations. Turns out, the student had been mis-informed. He hadn't gotten married, and wasn't dating. We chatted for a bit, and then went on with our lives.

This past Sunday, I had some friends over for a game night. I invited the "choir guy", and he came. I was pretty thrilled. I miss my friend sometimes. At about 9:00, everyone started heading out. He stayed until nearly one in the morning, just talking and catching up. At one point, we were each discussing our own single status...just as friends. When he said to me..."Shauna, I just want to find an LDS girl who's never been married and has no kids" (because he's not one to want to have to deal with ex-husbands)...part of me...the part that was 25 year old and all atwitter at seeing him stand up and direct the ward choir seven years ago....that part wanted to shout at him..."Hey...it's me! I'm here! I've always been right here!" But the 32 year old part of me...the part that's just a wee bit older and wiser....that part just smiled, and understood what her "friend" was sharing with her.

Sometimes, time really does change things.

Let's see...Christmas. My family decided that they would do a "Christmas breakfast" for 2008. I can't remember the last time we did that. So...given that I'm the only one not within walking distance, I was up at the crack of dawn, loading presents into my car. This had been a concern of mine beginning mid-December as I began to see the pile under my tree growing larger than what I presumed my Mustang would hold. But...after a little creative shuffling, and a lot of cramming, all if it made it into every available crevice of my car. I sped along the empty freeway, fearing that my family was waiting for me to show up. Of course, once I got there, the entire house was still blissfully sleeping. I unloaded my car and helped my mom with the beginnings of breakfast. After everyone had woken up and eaten, we sat around the tree (which was completely overfilling with gifts). The ward had stepped in to help my sister and her family, and...of course...Aunt Shauna went a bit crazy. It took the kids FOREVER to get things opened, and then they had so much they didn't even bother trying to play with it all that day.

This brought on a realization for me. I love my sister and her kids enormously. Through the years, they have definitely had their struggles. The pinnacle of those struggles was when the home my sister and her four kids were living in burned down nearly four years ago. They lost everything, and ended up moving in with my parents. It just kills me that the three older children will have that memory of seeing their home on fire, and losing every possession that they had. That first Christmas after the fire, I tried so hard to give them back just a portion of what they'd lost. It was the first year that I gave an over-abundance of gifts to the kids. And, in the two years that followed, I have continued that "tradition"....to the point of ridiculousness.

Sure...I still love and adore them all. But....next year...I think I'm going the "family gift" route. It will sure be a lot less stress on my end.

This has been such a crazy, busy month!

Friday, November 28th.

I'd been having car trouble (always a fun one). My battery had been dying for no apparent reason. I spent most of November with jumper cables in my trunk. Working at the bank, I knew that we'd have Family Day off, so I scheduled my car for service first thing Friday morning.

They had my car in the service area for two hours when they came back in and told me that they could find nothing wrong with it. Nothing wrong?!? Then explain why my battery has been completely dead twice, why it's had to turn over several times before catching, and why the clock and radio keep resetting? I mean...I'm no mechanic, but there's obviously something wrong, right?

So...they tell me that they can't replace the battery if they can't confirm my diagnosis of the problem (did I mention I was trying to get it done under warranty?). Frustrated, I ask them to bring my car back around, but let them know that the next time it died, I was calling them directly to pick both me and the car up. (And I would have, too.)

Lucky for them, when they went to bring it back around, it wouldn't start up. Imagine that! Apparently, there was a sporadic fault with the battery. Hmmm...I think I told them that. But...it's all fixed, and I'm thrilled.

While I was sitting there at Ford County, I heard from "the boy". You know...the one I said I was dying to find out what it felt like to kiss? He had called to check on the status of the car, and then invited me out to dinner the next night at Macayo's...my favorite!

Saturday, November 29th.

Saturday night, I got ready and drove to the restaurant. When I got there, he'd already gotten us a table. I'll just throw it out there right now...he looked stinkin' hot! So...the waitress came to take our order, and I ordered something my family has been ordering since I was a kid...a TCT (toasted cheese tortilla...for those not in "the know") with beans, sour cream and olives. Even as I was ordering it, his eyes were getting bigger and bigger. Turns out that his family has been ordering it the exact same way since he was a kid, too, and it was exactly what he'd planned on ordering. So...based on TCT's alone...we were a perfect match.

But...alas...it was not to be.

Dinner that night was great. However, he said something that night that totally made it clear that he was still holding out hope for a reconciliation with his ex (even though he didn't say those words exactly). That kind of put a damper on the "hopefulness" that I'd had. The following Sunday, he was to pick up his son, and...as was the norm...I knew that I wouldn't hear from him much the following week.

Thursday, December 4th.

I got home Thursday night, and my side was killing me. I'd thought that maybe I'd ruptured a spleen, or that my kidney was shot, or that my liver was damaged. (Funny, how I automatically jump to the conclusion that it was an injury to an internal organ.) Even at that, though, I wasn't too concerned. I popped a couple aspirin and hoped for the best.

Friday, December 5th.

When I woke up the next morning, I was in so much pain. Again...assuming it was an organ...I popped some more pills and headed off to work. At work that day, I noticed that the pain had begun migrating up and more towards my back. By lunch, I knew that I wasn't gonna make it a full day. I spoke to my boss and told him that I'd be going home as soon as I got the new guys' office in order, as he was to start the following Monday. I spent the next hour lugging humongous loan files from one office to another. Now...I'm not exaggerating when I say that some of the files were 4 inches thick. And...I was lugging six-seven-eight at a time. I got the job done, and then headed home.

Within a few hours, I realized that the pain was even more intense, and that it was shooting up through my shoulder. And then I had an "ah hah" moment. It suddenly became clear that it wasn't an "internal organ" injury after all (I've never been too good at self-diagnosis). I realized that the day that it had started hurting (Thursday), I'd spent all day in the file room moving more of those heavy files. Obviously, I had pulled something, and then had aggravated it more when I'd cleared out that office.

That night, I tried to lay down and sleep, but found that I couldn't lay down at all because it sent shooting pain through my chest and I couldn't breath. So...I made a bed on my couch, and slept sitting straight up.

Saturday, December 6th.

I woke up...still super sore...but had to rally because I'd told my sister that I would take her Christmas shopping for her kids. I drove all the way out to Henderson to find her sick and curled up in bed. Christmas shopping was out.

I ended up spending two hours helping my nephew, Tyler, with his Algebra (which I thoroughly enjoyed...as I do love the math). He wasn't enjoying it as much, but in the end, I actually got a big hug and a sincere thanks. That made every grueling explanation worth it!

I drove back to my house in order to get ready for my work Christmas party. I didn't really feel up to going, but I felt obligated as my boss had totally gone all out for a party for my team because the bank had decided not to do a party for all the employees. Vince (my boss) had rented the One-Eighty room at Redrock Casino for the night (at nearly $12,000 once the full wait-staff and catering were added in). I guess "obligated" isn't the right word. Honestly...I wanted to go because I knew that I would most likely never be in a hotel room of that caliber again. It was beautiful! ...and huge! ...and the 180 degree view of the city was absolutely amazing! I...however...was still more sore than ever...and ended up leaving after just a few hours.

I went home to my bed on the couch and again slept upright for the night.

Sunday, December 7th.

I spent all day sleeping and taking painkillers. I didn't even make it to church to teach my little Sunbeams. For the third night in a row, I slept on the couch.

Monday, December 8th.

I woke up Monday morning just a little sore. By about noon that day, all pain in my back and shoulder had subsided. I still don't know exactly what it was, or why it was, or how it went away...but I sure am grateful.

Wednesday, December 10th.

Realizing that I had not heard from "the boy" for a total of 10 days (which is 3 more days than when he had his son), I decided that I just needed to let go of this one. I know that he and I had made plans to go to the Philharmonic on the 13th, but we talked and I told him that I was going to make other plans, and that we really did just need to call "game" on our relationship because it was turning out to be much more work than it should be in the beginning. (Yes...I realize that this could be why I am still single.) Anyhow, he wasn't thrilled, but he said he understood.

Friday, December 12th.

Friday was my ward Christmas party. I really should have known.

I honestly don't have any problems being single and going to a family ward. On Sundays, everyone has a job to do, ya' know? But ward parties are different.

This past summer, I had gone to a ward party at the park. At that point, I had only been going to church for a couple weeks, and I really didn't know anyone but the bishop. I got there, and spoke to a few people. But mostly, I just watched all the hustle and bustle of the little family units. Every once in a while, someone would come over and talk to me, but then they'd excuse themselves because "Tina needed a drink" or "Tommy needed to be checked on". I felt completely out of place, and after only 20 minutes...feeling the tears start to well up...I slinked away to my car and drove home.

So...given that I'd been in the ward for 4 months now, I had high hopes for the Christmas party. However, I knew that being in Primary most of the time, I still wouldn't know too many people. Once I got there, I scoped out the families and finally spotted someone that I knew. She was in Primary with me, and her daughter was in my class. I walked over and asked if I could sit with her and her family. It was only a little awkward when she told me that I would have been welcome had they not already been saving seats for another family that was on their way.

So...I looked around the room again, and...not seeing anyone else that I felt comfortable enough to approach, I chose an empty table and sat down. A couple minutes later, the Relief Society President, her husband, and their children came over and asked if they could sit with me. Given that I definitely didn't need eight chairs all to myself, I told them that it would be great. A few minutes later, we were joined by another older woman and her young granddaughter. All the kids ran off, and the RS Pres went off to chit-chat with the others who were there. That left me, the older woman and the RS Pres's husband.

In an attempt to start conversation, the older woman spoke up:

OW: "So, what's your name, dear?"
Me: "Shauna"
OW: "Shauna, what, dear?"
Me: "Shauna Ferguson"
OW: "Oh...I see. You're part of the Fergusons here in the ward. Well that's nice."
RS Pres Husb: "There are no other Fergusons in the ward."
OW: "Oh! Do you have any children, dear?"
Me: "No...not yet."
OW: "Are you married?"
Me: "Nope...not yet either. I'm the only Ferguson. Guess that makes me special."

And apparently that was the end of the conversation. The woman looked away and I, again, felt completely out of place. I think, sometimes, that others don't quite know how to relate to those of us who are single. Unlike the picnic at the park, I actually made it 35 minutes without talking to another soul (with the exception of the older woman) at the gathering before I could feel the tears coming on. As everyone was standing in line to get their ham and rolls, I made my way out to my car and drove home.

I'm not gonna lie. That was a rough night.

Saturday, December 13th.

Having cancelled plans with "the boy", I asked my mom to go to the concert with me. The Christmas music was absolutely fantastic, and it turned out that the choir that sang with them was directed by my old high school choir teacher...Dr. J (Eldorado High School). That woman is so completely amazing. Not only did she teach me, but she taught my aunt and uncle some 15 years before me, and even had their pictures (along with 1000s of her other students) hanging in her office the years I was in her class. When she came out on stage at the end of the night to take her bow, she looked as beautiful and full of life as I had remembered her 16 years ago.

Monday, December 15th.

As Sonya and I had not been able to go Christmas shopping for the kids the week before (when she was sick), I picked her up on my day off and we hit the stores while her older kids were still in school. A couple hours later, we were sitting in the living room at my parents house wrapping (what felt like a million) gifts. Lexy, the three-year-old, had wanted to help so much, so we kept handing her gifts to take to the family room to put under the tree. Even as we were handing them to her, one after another, we were making comments that we were afraid to go into the other room and see the disaster that was sure to await us. We were certain that gifts would be everywhere...half of them open. But...to our surprise...when we finally dared to take a peek after we'd done all of the wrapping, we saw that Lexy had carefully stacked each of the gifts under the tree. Not one of them came out past the tree skirt. To be completely honest, it looked like a magazine, and difinitely looks better than how I have them stacked under my own tree. Sometimes, she's just amazing.

Tuesday, December 16th.

Matt and I both had the day off, so we decided to head up to Mount Charleston to get out in the snow, and perhaps grab a hot chocolate up at the hotel. Here are some of the pictures from our drive up.

Okay...so I know that Thanksgiving just ended (actually...as I write this post...for many of you it is just beginning). My family's tradition is to do a Thanksgiving lunch with all relatives who are in town. Today...we started cooking at 8:00. Lunch was at 11:00. And...at 4:00...we all started on our different ways home. There were 26 of us today. It's always fun to see family and friends that you don't always get to keep in touch with. I love them very much.



But...now that I'm home...I'm totally ready for the Christmas season to begin. I love this season....the excitement, the merriment, the anticipation. I know I'm not a kid anymore, and it's not even that I'm looking forward to opening presents on Christmas morning. I just love this time of year. I love how much joy there is just in being. And...I love that, though I think about my Savior every day, this is the time of year that I really celebrate, in my heart, all that he has done.



That said...I have so begun to gear up for this holiday. I started decorating nearly two weeks ago. Can there be a better time of year than the one that allows me to throw splashes of overly glittery objects all throughout my home? ...and that allows me me to tie big bows around my furniture? I think not!



Take a look....













Hope you all are as excited about this joyous season as I am.

So...I've been putting off writing about this...mostly because I'm so unsure what "this" is.

A couple weeks ago, I wrote about my date with the guy I met online. And in that post, I mentioned that...while completely different than other first dates I'd been on...it was fun. And...I liked him. The week following our date (which I should mention is the week he has his son, as he and his ex-wife split custody 50/50), we never did talk on the phone, and there were a few text messages here and there. I wasn't feelin' it, and apparently he wasn't either. So...it sorta fizzled and went away. And...after one date...that was okay.

The following week (after taking his son back to the ex's on Sunday), I heard from him on Tuesday (which was Veteran's day). He sent me a text and asked how I was enjoying the holiday. The text was sorta out of the blue, but I was strangely excited about it. So, I responded and eventually we decided that we would catch a movie the next day (Wednesday...in case your following my quasi timeline). I told him that I would check out the movies online when I got home (because I was out doing some Christmas shopping at the time), and that I would text him with details later that night. Seven o'clock rolled around and I sent him a text that said something like this:

"If you don't feel like dinner, then we could see Eagle Eye at Rave. If you wanted go grab some dinner before, then perhaps McMullans Pub, and then the movie at the Orleans. Or...I could always make shepherd's pie, and then we could catch the movie. By the way, I'm not set on the movie or dinner plans, so whatever you decide."

Yeah...yeah...I know that was long for a text message. But...I never heard anything back. So...a few hours later I followed it up with another text that said:

"What...too many options? :)"

Again...nothing. So...I went to bed feeling a little ignored, and just a bit frustrated. The next morning, I slept in late (as I was on vacation). I woke up around ten and, realizing that I still hadn't heard from him, sent the following:

"Hey..."

He responded right away with:

"Hey...what's up?"

So...then I asked if we were still on for a movie. His text said:

"Let me call you when I get off work."

Are you kidding me? So...at that point...not only do I not know if I have plans that evening, but I wasn't even going to find out until he got home from work. And then...if by chance he did cancel...I end up feeling rejected even though I wasn't the one who started the whole schpeel the day before. Arrgghhhh....

Anyhow, he ended up calling me at 5:30. My nose was already completely out of joint, so I let it go to voicemail. I checked it, and it was short and sweet and just said..."Hey Shauna, this is Don. It was a really long day. Call me. Talk to you soon."

Not so soon. I waited fifty-seven minutes to call him back. When he answered, he was in a good mood and asked if we were still going to the movies. Lest we forget that my nose was out of joint, I said something to the effect of..."I think it's getting too late to catch a movie." He fielded that one like a pro, and didn't miss a beat. Then he asked..."Well...if no movie, then do you still want to grab dinner?" I should get points for my impeccable follow-through, as I then explained that my allergies had been bothering me all day, and that I had taken a ton of medicine, and was bound to pass out any minute. Again...he was totally a sweet guy and said that he hoped I started feeling better. We talked for a little longer, and I asked how his day was. Apparently, just before I'd sent him my text that morning, he'd gotten pulled over and ticketed for running a yellow light in his work truck. And then I felt bad for him. It had been a long day, and I hadn't made it any easier. But...it was too late to back-peddle, right?

The next morning (Thursday), I really was feeling bad. I had been such a jerk the day before. So, I sent him this text:

"Hey...if you don't have plans tonight, I was thinking maybe we could go and grab dinner."

His responses were nearly immediate, and we made plans to meet up that night at seven.

Dinner was nice. We sat and talked for about an hour. After dinner, he walked me out to my car, and then asked..."Do you have to go? I bet you have to go home and get ready for work tomorrow" I told him that I didn't, and that I was actually off that week. He said..."Oh...then you don't have to rush off anywhere."

We ended up hanging out for a couple more hours. I had a lot of fun with him that night. When it was over, we went back to where our cars were. He walked me to my driver side door, and...again...I got a hug. That's two, my friends. Two hugs.

The next day (Friday), he was out in his work truck, and called and we chatted for almost 30 minutes. He mentioned that he was going to the temple that night. But, we had made plans to get together on Saturday to possibly go off-roading (something I'd never done). I was kind of excited at the prospect.

Saturday came. I knew that he had some errands to take care of, and that he would call when he was done. About two o'clock, I heard from him. We both knew it was too late to go off-roading, since I had a concert to go to that night. But...he came over to my place. I fixed spaghetti (which completely sucked....how do you mess up spaghetti???), and then we just hung out for a couple hours. Early on, I had mentioned that my concert was at 8, and that I needed to head out by 7. He told me just to let him know when he needed to pack things in, and he would.

About 6:30, he asked when I needed to go, and I told him that I still had "a while". At 7:05, he got the same response to his question. At 7:15, he got the same response to his question. And at 7:20, when he asked what time I needed to go, I became the "stupid girl" who responded with..."I don't know." He said, "What do you mean, you don't know?" I said..."I don't know!" He then asked, "Well, what time is your concert?" I said..."I don't know." Obviously, I was not ready for him to leave. I was really liking spending time with him. And...though I am completely a Mraz-stalker...I was 50% ready to blow off the concert all-together. Finally, at 7:40, he turned to me and said..."Shauna...you need to go. You're going to miss your concert." So...I caved, and in a whirlwind, stood up and gathered my stuff together and we went out the front door.

When we were standing in front of my car saying goodbye, I got...are you ready for this...a hug. That makes THREE. Can I just say...I'm going a little batty at this point.

So...I go to the concert and it's a complete blast. I loved every single minute of it, which...thanks to Don...I didn't miss any of. When I got home that night, I sent him a text:

"Hey...before I head to bed, I just wanted to thank you for pushing me out the door. I was really enjoying spending time with you, and was ready to skip the concert altogether...which I probably would have regretted the next day because I adore Jason Mraz so very much. So...thanks again..."

The next morning, he sent a text that said that he'd enjoyed our hang out as well. Hmmm..."hang out". I'm trying not to read too much into that...

That was Sunday morning...the morning he picked up his son again. Which (much like the first week after our first date) has meant that I haven't heard from him much. The first week, I took that to mean that he wasn't interested. This week, I'm hoping that it just means he's a very devoted dad, and is giving his son the attention he deserves. Remember me saying that one of the very first things he told me was that his son was his best friend? It was endearing then...and still is.

Though I haven't heard from him too much, we've made plans to see the LV Philharmonic on December 13th (forward planning is a good sign, right?). And we did make plans to get together for lunch tomorrow. Though...silly girl that I can be...when I thought for a split moment that his non-response to a question meant that a rejection was on the horizon, and not that he was a little pre-occupied with something else, I made the decision to let him off the hook on the lunch date. I tried to play it off as if I were doing him a favor by saying:

"Hey...you are such a nice guy. Don't worry about the lunch thing. I understand that things are busy. We'll just catch up another day... :)"

But...we all know that it was me cancelling.

We spoke today. He never acknowledged that I'd once again punked out and cancelled. And...today was like normal again. I guess I'm having a hard time because I don't really know what "our" status is. I'm not sure if we're just friends...or if we're on our way to dating. I know that I don't give my friends hugs before we part ways. I know that I don't call/text/see my friends (not new friends or long-time friends) every day for five days straight. I know that when I asked him last Saturday if he was still hesitant to hang out with me when he had his son with him, he said yes, but that he was working on it. If we were just friends, that wouldn't even be an issue, right? And....I know that I am dying to know what it's like to kiss him.

And...that's the story thus far....(sigh)...

Okay...I absolutely love and adore my nephews and nieces. Of the four of them, Lexy (the baby) is definitely the one who keeps us on our toes. She was born with a head full of curly hair. And in the three years since then, it's just grown and grown and grown. I'll even admit that I've been a little jealous of her gorgeous curly hair. The thing is, she's not very fond of it. It's long, and it gets in her eyes. She's always pushing it to the side, or pulling on it, or cutting at it (the few times she's found herself in proximity of a pair of scissors). But....with all the adults in her life, we've managed to keep her in "fairly" good shape. Here's a picture of what her hair looked like a few months ago.

Okay...so anyone who knows me knows that I love Jason Mraz (as mentioned previously in a post or two). Last night was his concert at The Pearl at The Palms, and the fourth one I've been to. I just have to say...loved it!

The opening band was a girl named Lisa Hannigan. She had an interesting sound, and her band used a ton of odd instruments. I think I'll pick up her album once it's out there. But...it might be a little while as she just signed her record deal yesterday.

Then...of course...it was followed by Mr. A-Z himself. (I should not admit how long it took me to figure out the name of his 2nd to last albust titled "Mr. A-Z" was really just his name "Mraz".)

Anyhow...there is nothing about the man that I don't like. I like his music...his journals...and, not the least of all, his dreamy bedroom eyes. (Yeah...totally single here.)

At the end of the show, Mraz brought out Lisa Hannigan, and they performed one more song together (the one he did with Colbie Caillat on his most recent CD).

What an awesome night!

Okay...here is the briefest of recaps on my date. We had dinner at Schlotzsky's, drove around town in his jeep listening to classical music, and ended up at Walmart shopping for groceries (he had a campout with the boyscouts the next day), and then picked up a couple Hotwheels for his collection. To be completely honest, it was unlike any first date I'd ever gone on, and yet it was fun. But...there just wasn't a connection. (I'd go into more detail than that, but he knows the name of my blog, and I wouldn't want to say too much.)

But...something did come out of the experience.

First...I realized that online dating is just something that's not for me. Spending three weeks getting to know someone by e-mail, text, and phone conversations...only to have it all lead up to a meeting that is completely uncertain...it's definitely rough. And it's not something I like. The way I want it to go down is this: I'd like to meet someone first, have there be that spark of interest, and then have it followed up with three weeks of "getting to know each other". So...I deleted my online profile. I guess that means that I just have to get myself "out there" more. I need to start attending the "older singles" activities that are set up for just this purpose...for older LDS singles to have the opportunity to meet other older LDS singles. I'll let you know how that goes...

I have a date this Thursday. I can't call it a blind date, because I've seen his picture, and spoken with him on the phone. But...I've never met him, and I'm a little bit nervous.

So...what does a 31-year old, single girl...who's LDS and wants to meet a nice LDS guy, but attends a VERY married family ward...do? She signs up on an LDS singles dating website. Yeah...yeah...I've already thought all the things you're thinking right now. Believe me...

During the first month I was on the site, I heard from several different guys. The first was an engineer from Nigeria. Yeah...Nigeria. His e-mail to me said "Don't let the distance scare you, it's only a plane ride away." Um...yeah. Nigeria.

The second man I heard from was from Alaska. Definitely cute, an inch shorter than me...but that's not a problem. All of his pictures, though, were of him holding giant fish. Everything on his profile and in his e-mail talked about fishing. While someone who's into fishing (and most likely eating fish) is not a deal-breaker, the fact that I have yet to even try a bite of fish meant that I just didn't see it as a good match. That, and....Alaska. Hello...where are the Vegas men?

So then I heard from a man in Payson, Utah. Okay...we're getting closer. We talked for about a week, and then I happened to take a look at his profile again. How did I miss that he was 50? Yikes.

The others I'd heard from were along those same lines...just not real possibilities.

And then I decided that I needed to do a quick search for men located in Vegas. The search came back with only 37 hits. Really? You mean to tell me that there are only 37 single LDS guys in Vegas? Alright...I know not all of them are willing to try a dating site. But...come on!

So...I looked through them and none of them really interested me. Except...one.

I looked at his profile and his picture several times before actually taking the initiative to send him an e-mail. I think it was something super short like "Hey there...". The next day (I think)...I heard back from him. That was three weeks ago.

Since that time, we've e-mailed, talked on the phone, and sent texts nearly every day. On paper...I really like him a lot. He's 31, over 6 foot tall, grew up in the same part of town that I did...near Sunrise mountain. We found out that we went to the same junior high school at the same time...though I was in 8th grade and he was in 7th. He's divorced and has a 2 year old son. When he told me that his son was his best friend, my heart nearly melted. How sweet is that?

So....I'm super excited for our date on Thursday. But...I'm completely nervous. I really want to like him. And I really want him to like me. Any suggestion for the nerves?

I broke a tooth the other day. And that voice inside my head that I sometimes hear said..."So...what's the story with the tooth?" And then I laughed, because...it's not the first time I've heard it.

Here's a little story 'bout my tooth...well...teeth.

Back when I was about ten years old, I was playing on the trampoline in my backyard. As I was climbing down, my foot got caught in the springs, and I swung over the side of the bar...making contact with the leg of trampoline and my mouth. Not fun. The bottom halves of both of my top front teeth were busted. My dad took me to the dentist and we got 'em fixed.

Fast forward a couple years. In my early twenties, I went on a blind date. I can't even remember his name right now. We met at Roadhouse for dinner. As we ate, the conversation was fun (not really memorable, though). I'll admit, now, that the "fake" part of one of my teeth had darkened...but just a tad. I never even paid much attention to it. But...as the conversation wore on...my "date" said..."So...what's the story with the tooth?" My jaw about dropped. First of all...how rude. Second...nice girl that I am, I would never have commented on the fact that my "date" could have flossed with a carrot...his teeth were so spaced apart. And yet...he said it. Needless to say...dinner ended soon after that, and there were no follow-up dates. I was a little embarrassed, though, and definitely self-conscious.

Luckily...if one could call it that...my tooth broke the following year. Yep...that same tooth. Believe it or not...I was eating a piece of bread and suddenly felt a hard piece of something in my mouth. I was devastated when I pulled out my broken tooth. Running to the bathroom mirror, I was definitely a bit teary. I called in to work the next morning because I was too embarrassed to take my "hick"-self to work. I made the appointment with Dr. Bennett, and he got me all fixed up again.

Fast forward again another eight years. That brings us to last Tuesday night. I was getting ready for bed. After I finished brushing my teeth, I rinsed my mouth and then smiled in the mirror. Imagine my surprise when I saw...

Ummmm...yeah. Where did my tooth go? I thought back and realized that the only thing I'd had since the last time I saw my tooth was....bread!!! It's just not right. To my credit, though, this time there was not a single tear. It was just too funny. I cracked up a little, snapped a picture with my cell phone, sent it to Matty so that he could laugh a little, and then went to bed. The next morning, I went to work, called my dentist, and got all fixed up again. They fixed that tooth, replaced the old fill (from 20 years before on the tooth right next to it, and also fixed a tooth on the other side of the broken one that I thought was just crooked.. Who knew it had been chipped also? Anyhow...check out my new grille... :o)

Sweet, huh?

So...I've been putting off painting the guest bedroom (otherwise known as my nephews and nieces bedroom) for 18 months. (They've wanted me to paint it primary colors for those times when they stay over. I just couldn't do it.) Finally yesterday...I decided to just get it done. I started painting at 6pm, and did not stop until 6am. I went to bed, got up two hours later, and finished the room by noon. Eeks...I am going to be so tired today. But...here are some pictures of the room, and then the rest of my condo.



The guest bedroom (4 total).





The guest bathroom (1 total).



My bedroom (1 total)


My bathroom (1 total)

The kitchen (2 total)


The dining room (1 total)

The living room (3 total)

Okay...so I am REALLY behind on sharing this information with most of you. But...I didn't really have a forum before. So...a little catch-up on my love of London.

Back in 2005, I found that I REALLY liked the music of Jason Mraz. So much so, that I almost became a Mraz-stalker (no worries, I kid). Anyhow, I had gone to a concert of his in Phoenix that July, and then he was here at the Hardrock in October that same year. After the Hardrock concert (that I enjoyed immensely), I decided that I really wanted to go to another concert. So...I pulled up his tour page and was looking for a concert somewhere nearby that I could plan a roadtrip to. The only ones I found were in Florida and New York...which were just too far away. And then I saw a concert date listed for Birmingham, England in March 2006. And I thought..."Hmmm. I could buy that ticket now, and if I end up not taking the trip, I'm only out $50. But if I do take the trip....imagine that!" So...I got out my debit card, and five minutes later it was done. And that was the start of it all. Over the following months, I sent off for a passport, bought airline tickets, and waited anxiously for March 2006 to come. Finally it arrived, and it was the trip of a lifetime for me (especially since all my trips prior had only been to California, Utah, Arizona, Idaho, and Missouri (shout out here to Grandma Helms!).

Two years later (March 2008), I decided to go back with Matt...and this time we took my parents. In fact...when we landed at Heathrow Airport and went through customs, the date they stamped in our passports was exactly the same day from two years earlier. It, too, was a great trip.

Here are pictures from the most recent trip from '08. A few of my favorites from 2006 will follow.

This is one of my favorite pictures of my parents from the trip. After being married for over 35 years, they still are eachothers best friend. The actual picture is taken inside the London Eye...a large ferris wheel on the Thames River. Each "pod" holds about 15 people, and gives a birds-eye view of the city.

We took a trip up to Windsor Castle while we were there. Unlike Buckingham, we were actually able to tour this castle. It was so pretty. It is actually the queens favorite residence. The little town of Windsor was quaint. If I could, I would so live there.

We also went on a tour of Stonehenge. It really is like every postcard picture you've seen. The thing that my eye was drawn to was just how green the grass was, and just how blue the sky was. It was breathtaking.

After Stonehenge, we stopped in this little town. I can't remember the name. But it was small, and all the houses and buildings have actual thatched roofs. This was a restaurant called "The Ship" that we ate at. The tables were "community" tables. You sat with people you didn't know. Whereas in the states, you order a meal and they bring out bread for everyone to share, there...they brought us our meals, and brought out a big plate of french fries and a big bowl of vegetables for everyone to share. I should also note here, since I'm talking about food, that in London, they don't give you much ice (a cube or two if any). It's definitely something we all take for granted here, and totally missed there.

That day ended with us stopping over in the city of Oxford. I hadn't realized that Oxford University wasn't just one big complex. It's actually many small colleges all over the city.

One of the things that we did while in London was go to see the show Wicked at the Apollo Victoria Theatre. It's a take on the Wizard of Oz...and one of the best musicals I've seen.

This was the creme de la creme of the trip (for Matty and I). Lovers of shopping that we are, we knew that we had to go to the Ikea in London before our trip was through. Thanks, Mom, for putting up with our silly request.

And here are a few pictures from the first trip in 2006.

Here's the London Eye. Like I said before, each of those little "pods" holds 15-20 people.

And here's me in front of Big Ben. We went a little crazy with taking pictures EVERY time we saw it. I must have ended up with 30 or so.

Here's Matty propping up one of those red telephone booths.

Here I am in front of Buckingham the first time.

I loved the Disney movie Bedknobs and Broomsticks, and I will always remember the scenes from Portabello Road. Once I knew I was going to London, I knew that I had to visit that street. Though there weren't the street merchants I had envisioned (I was certain I would find me a bedknob to bring home), there were lots of interesting little shops to go into.

This is a picture of Birmingham...a beautiful city. This is where Mraz was having his concert. That morning, we got on the train and traveled across the English countryside to get there.

Once we got there, our directions told us that our hotel was located on Wharfside Street. As we got off the train, we asked one of the employees to direct us, but he had never heard of Wharfside Street (odd...because Birmingham didn't appear to be that large). He gave us a map of the city, and try as we might to search it, we never found the street. After wandering for some time, we found an internet cafe and figured we'd look it up online. Still...no real information. The only thing it mentioned was a mailbox. So...we set off again looking for the post office, figuring it would be nearby. And then...in our searching...we turned the corner and saw...

We went inside, and...wouldn't you know it...Wharfside Street was the name of the escalator that took us up to the floor with our hotel on it. Apparently, The Mailbox is one of those complexes where you can live, work, eat, etc. Frustrating as it was, you just had to laugh when you saw the name plate on the escalator. Those crazy English folk.

This canal was right out the front door of our hotel in Birmingham. It really was very pretty.

Lucky you...that's it. No more pictures and captions.

Okay. Prepare yourselves. I'm about to reveal the most shocking piece of information you've heard this century. Are you ready for it? Do you really think so? Alright...here it is: I haven't always been the most active person in relation to my religion. (You could sense the sarcasm in the build-up, right?) Admittedly, I often tried to convince myself that my quarterly attendance made it so that I didn't qualify as inactive. But...we all know the truth.

Let me back up and explain a little history. I grew up in the Sunrise Stake...that area over off of Nellis and Bonanza. For the first 16 years of my life, I went to school, attended all my meetings, and had extracurricular activities with the same group of people. My ward/stake members were not just people I went to church with, they were my family. Everything about who I was revolved around that. And then when I was 16, my family moved to Henderson. While I was excited about being in a big new house, I was a little angry that my parents were taking me away from the ward family I'd grown up with. And...being somewhat bitter/stubborn/obstinate, I don't think I ever really opened myself up to letting the new ward find a place in my life.

During the remainder of high school, I went to my meetings, and...for the most part...I went to most of my activities. I did meet a great group of LDS friends in high school, but I never really let myself become a part of things. And that carried on for over a decade.

After graduating, I started going to singles' wards, but never regularly. And as time when on...it became even less and less often. I moved all over Vegas/Henderson about once a year. I always made sure that my records were transferred, and I never turned away a visiting teacher or a home teacher. But...that was the extent of it.

Last year, just after I moved into my condo, I got a call from the executive secretary of the ward I had just left. He said he was just calling to make sure that their information was up to date, and when I told him that I had actually just moved and would make sure that the new ward requested my records, his response about "taking care of that for me" seemed to be just a bit over-eager. And it was then that I realized that I was one of those "problem" members that burdened a ward...all because of my inactivity. That fact didn't help my outlook at the time. I became even more disconnected...if that were possible.

There were definitely those times when I would find myself on my knees praying that something would change...praying that I would find a way out of the dark, desperate place that I felt I was in. It's hard to explain, though I'm sure there are many who have felt it, the emptiness that comes from not doing what you know is right.

And then, this past July, I had a change of heart. I realized how much effort I was putting into not being part of something that, in all honesty, I had been yearning for from the time my family moved from Vegas to Henderson. I wanted so much to be part of the ward family. I wanted so much to feel that bond with others who believed the same things that I believed in. (I should interject that, though my attendance was rare, my faith in the truths and teachings that I had been brought up with had never faltered...not once). And so I made the conscious decision that I would no longer do that which was contrary to my Heavenly Father's will. I called and made the appointment with my bishop. We talked about the times when I had been active, and the disconnect I'd felt for so long, and what it was that I needed to do personally in order to get myself to the place I wanted so desperately to be. That someone I had never even met once could be so loving, understanding, compassionate and caring (though I know that's the role of a bishop)...it really blew me away. And...I have to say...the changes in my life were nearly immediate.

Fast forward a few months. I have now been regularly attending all of my meetings since July. The median age of the ward I am in is 28, so I'm just a little bit older. The area I'm in is fairly new, and the ward is jam-packed with young families and lots and lots of kids. I can honestly say that I love my ward. I feel like I've known some of these people for years. All it took was me being open to the idea of taking part, and I have been completely enveloped by those around me.

Just yesterday, I pulled out my planner and was marking down something that I needed to do this Wednesday, and I paused to take a look at what I had done during September. There was not a single day that I was left on my own (which, being single, is quite a feat). Aside from time with my own family, and time with my non-LDS friends (which I've had all along), every other day on that calendar was packed with dinners with new friends, Bunco nights (which was something I had never even heard of until a few months ago), Enrichment nights, ward picnics, etc. Not that my life had been boring before, but it now feels so much more "meaningful"...if that makes any sense.

Anyhow...one of the best things that has come from all this is that I was called as a Sunbeam teacher. (I should say that I hadn't held a calling in nearly 6 years). Like I mentioned, my ward is full of little kids. And, because there are actually 16 Sunbeams, the class was split in two. I teach 8 little girls, and I am so grateful for that opportunity. I cannot express how it feels each Sunday as I'm waiting for Sacrament to start, and I see each of those little girls walk into the chapel, their little eyes searching the room to find their teacher. And when they spot me, their eyes light up, they flash a smile, and they give a quick wave. That I could be that important to them is amazing to me. I'm not gonna lie, sometimes I feel a bit overwhelmed at the thought that I am responsible for teaching them the basic stories of the gospel. And the fact that there are eight of them...wow...it's quite an undertaking some days. But I wouldn't trade it for anything in the world. I wouldn't trade how, sitting in Sharing Time, at one point or another, each of the girls lean forward in their chair just to make eye contact with me and know that I know they are there. I wouldn't trade how, in practicing for the primary program yesterday, when each of them got up to say their little parts at the pulpit, when they were done, the first thing they did was look to me for approval as I gave them a smile.

I wish I could say that I had always been steadfast in doing the things I needed to do. But, the only thing I can do is look forward. And when so much has changed in such a short time, I am so excited to see what He has planned for me next...