Interest is Different than Like

Let's talk about something for a small moment here.  I have learned a small something about myself.  Sometimes entering potential relationships, I get scared.  Like super scared like a small child.  I back waaaaaay off, want to run away from everything, and hide under a rock.  Whyyyyy?  Pressure.  Expectation.  And above all...SPEED.   What the heck?!!
Take me on a few real dates before you try to cuddle with me!  That's right, I said a few.  Make sure you actually, you know, like me before you put your arm all up around me.  Let there be a bit of suspense and guessing and giddiness - no, I'm not talking about the game - I'm talking about courtship.  The real kind where I have to start asking myself, "well is he ever going to hold my hand?"  Then when you do, I feel like I did the first time a boy ever held my hand.  Then when you kiss me, let it have taken long enough that we both can't stand not having kissed anymore.  Really.  Cuddling doesnt have to be an expectation just because both of us know we are interested.  Dont let it me a customary gesture...let it be special.  When all of my roommates sit down to watch a movie, we don't have to cuddle just because it's a movie.  Too often the physical aspects of relationships progress before the friendship part of the relationship progresses and the relationship relationship has to play catch up to the physical relationship and THAT DOESN'T WORK.  It's not designed to.  I feel like since now that we are dating to get married, it's like we both know why we are there and the mystery of it all goes to pots.  Well if we are interested, we are interested and that means we hold hands and cuddle and for some, kiss.  No.  Blaspheme!  Interest doesn't mean like and only like means physical.  For me anyway.
One real-life relationship I was in, the boy didn't hold my hand for weeks and weeks.  It was the sort of thing where I would text my best friend after we all watched a movie and say, "why didn't he hold my hand?  Did I do something wrong?!"  Let me panic for a second.  You know?  We still had to flirt back then.  Then.  Theeen.  He waited even longer to kiss me. Oh.  By the time that first kiss came, boy.  It was time.  And I had never felt so giddy.  I'm pretty sure he heard me scream as he walked away from my closed front door.  It was waited for and worked for and well-deserved on both our parts.  We were best friends first.  It had to be a process for us.  A process, I say!!  Am I completely crazy?  I mean, tell me I'm not crazy for thinking this way.  Because, hey, I have been there several times.  I've experienced the non-commital cuddle.  It's fun for the moment, but you go home after and feel empty.  I'm ashamed to admit, but it's true.  Bleh.  No mo.  MmmmMm.
Interest is different than like.
Flirt.
Slow your roll.
Enjoy.
I'm glad we had this talk.

Feelin' 22!!

It feels like a perfect night to dress up like hipsters
And make fun of our exes, uh uh, uh uh.
It feels like a perfect night for breakfast at midnight
To fall in love with strangers, uh uh, uh uh.
Yeah,
We're happy, free, confused, and lonely at the same time
It's miserable and magical.
Oh, yeah
Tonight's the night when we forget about the deadlines
It's time
Uh oh!
I don't know about you
But I'm feeling 22
Everything will be alright
If you keep me next to you
You don't know about me
But I'll bet you want to
Everything will be alright
If we just keep dancing like we're
22, ooh-ooh
22, ooh-ooh
It seems like one of those nights,
This place is too crowded.
Too many cool kids, uh uh, uh uh (who's Taylor Swift anyway, ew?)
It seems like one of those nights,
We ditch the whole scene and end up dreaming
Instead of sleeping.
Yeah,
We're happy, free, confused, and lonely in the best way
It's miserable and magical.
Oh, yeah
Tonight's the night when we forget about the heartbreaks
It's time
Uh oh! (hey!)
I don't know about you
But I'm feeling 22
Everything will be alright
If you keep me next to you
You don't know about me
But I'll bet you want to
Everything will be alright (alright)
If we just keep dancing like we're
22, ooh-ooh (oh, oh, oh)
22, ooh-ooh
I don't know about you
22, ooh-ooh
22, ooh-ooh
It feels like one of those nights,
We ditch the whole scene.
It feels like one of those nights,
We won't be sleeping.
It feels like one of those nights,
You look like bad news.
I gotta have you,
I gotta have you.
Ooh-ooh
Ooh-ooh, ye-e-e-e-eah, hey
I don't know about you (I don't know about you)
But I'm feeling 22
Everything will be alright
If you keep me next to you
You don't know about me (you don't know about me)
But I'll bet you want to
Everything will be alright
If we just keep dancing like we're
22, ooh-ooh
22, ooh-ooh
22, ooh-ooh, yeah, yeah
22, ooh-ooh, yeah, yeah, yeah
It feels like one of those nights,
We ditch the whole scene
It feels like one of those nights,
We won't be sleeping
It feels like one of those nights,
You look like bad news,
I gotta have you,
I gotta have you.

Ahhh life is good.  And confusing and wonderful and lonely at times and funny and magical.  You know?  So!  That T Swift song sure applies.  Yeah, I'm 22.  I turned it yesterday and it was a fantastic day!  All day long I had loved ones calling me and sending messages of all sorts.  I went to class the watched some episodes of Parks and Recreation then fell asleep for a bit.  Then my parents came up and brought Alivia because they were tending her and we went to dinner at Elements.  Umm super nice delicious food.  Then my roommates threw a fantastic surprise birthday party for me which included balloons, cake, games and the whole bit!  I loved it
Also, last week was spring break so my mom and I went to St. George.  Also Adam and I had a combined birthday dinner (why haven't we ever done that before?) and we opened presents then.  And we recreated a picture from 1994.  It is now 2014.  20 years! I got clothes a book a swimming suit and my very first hot glue gun!  A crafter's necessity.  Isn't it funny how as ya get older ya get excited bout that sort of thing?  It was great!  
Also, this marks having my blog for 4 years now.  4 years!!  Crazy.  So much has happened in that amount of time.  My life is definitely totally different than I thought it would be.  Okay not totally but a lot.  And the best part is, it is all progress.  Sometimes ya take two steps forward and one step back, but it truly is progress.  I'm movin', ya know?  Plans change and people change and what ya want changes and it's great!  I love this thing - this blog.  It will forever be a treasure for me.  I hope you (few readers) enjoy it too!

Also, pictures!  Yay!

                                                        

Headband Stand

As promised, here is the tutorial of sorts of how I made my headband stand!  I just bought a candle holder, and already had a large empty can of Stephen's hot chocolate, paper and mod podge. 

 I just picked out some 12 X 12 paper that coordinated and cut two strips of the same paper and sizes because one strip wouldn't make it all the way around the can.  

See? 

I found that it was easier to glue (with mod podge) one end of the paper to the can by putting the glue on the paper at one end.  Then once that was secure I painted pod podge directly on the can and smoothed the paper over it.

Once the paper was all glued on I covered all of it with mod podge and put some ribbon on it for a little extra decoration.  Then I hot glued the bottom of the can to the top of the candle holder and viola!!

Tadaaaaah!!

And here it is doin' its job.  Want to know the bonuses of this thing?  A) it kinda opens/stretches out the headbands a bit and B) it has an open top to put other things (like scrunchies and elastic-y headbands) in.  I am quite pleased with this.  Also, If I get bored of the paper and overall look, it would be easy peasy to cover it with new paper or even spray paint the candle holder.  

The End!

Chalkboard Art

So I have been experimenting a lot with my different sides of art and have done a lot of hand lettering, watercolor painting, and drawing of sorts.  I have LOVED it!  So, my best friend got married last week (another post to come, I'm sure) and she had me write on several chalkboards to hang up all over her reception venue.  She told me what to write on which boards and away I went!  

 The boards we just wood spray painted with chalkboard paint and they found frames in various places (including their own home) and just sprayed them gold for some uniformity.

 I found that I was able to sketch it out in pencil first then erase as I went a long.  I liked the look of using a kneaded eraser rather than just a normal eraser because the kneaded eraser still gave it a dirty chalkboard look.  I don't know if you can tell but on the picture above the top eraser section is just a normal eraser.  Bleh.  The bottom is much better.  

 Instead of using real chalk, I used chalk markers.  They show up much more vibrantly and are easy to wash off or erase with a bit of water in case of a little mess-up here or there.  

 The met in Nauvoo.  Hence the Nauvoo pageant quote.  The quote on the left is from a Lady Antebellum song.  

 This one was hung above their cake.

 This was in the display with grandparents' pictures and her mom and grandma's wedding dresses.

 Random water color.  The paint are their wedding colors then I just printed on top of it.  

 This one was hung up next to the giant family quilt.

 This was a giant door they had hung up at the entrance of the venue.  It was pretty intimidating for me to do something so big and to space it out right and make it straight but it turned out okay!

This was the other side - people saw it as they walked out.  Sorry for the blurry picture!  

I was so excited to be able to do this for my dear friend's wedding and would love to continue to!  Another lady helping with the wedding said that she knows someone who charges $30 per hour to do stuff like this.  I would NOT charge that much.  Promise.  So if you know anyone interested in this sort of thing, let me know!!  I love the challenge.   :)

My Mom and Dad

(I started the draft of this post in December 2013)
I have always loved reading descriptions of my grandparents parents, or having my mom or dad tell me in detail about their parents, and last night as my parents and I sat relaxing by the fire and Christmas tree I decided I want to document how I see my parents - how I remember them now - Christmas tree lights reflecting on my mom's warm face as she gives me the best kind of council, my dad hunched over sitting on the couch, elbows on knees as he watches the BYU USU basketball game....Maybe one day my grandkids will love reading about what I saw.

My mother.  Truly one of the most beautiful women I have ever seen.  She has looked the same to me ever since I can remember (meaning she has always looked quite young).  I have always had my friends tell me how pretty they think my mom is - that she is just a stunning lady.  She has big, soft yet piercing brown eyes - they get green toward the middle.  She has a lovely smile that couldn't be more sincere.  Beautiful lips - I can still remember watching her carefully putting her lipstick on, then blotting her lips on some toilet paper.  One time I walked into my parents bathroom and my dad had pulled from the garbage one of the sheets she blotted her lips on.  The perfect print of her lips was accompanied by my dad's handwriting and an arrow "I love these lips."  He left it for my mom to find.  She has striking feminine features.  Her cheek bones are high and they and her defined brow bones/perfectly shaped arched eyebrows frame her eyes perfectly.  Her hair is dark.  Almost black, but has a tint of auburn in it in the light.  She is an angel.  In fact, when she is in the light, it literally looks like there is a gold halo resting on the crown of her dark hair.  Then there is the famous streak of silver grey hair that she has in her bangs.  She's had it since high school and I love it.  I have always wished I had one.  It fits her personality.  Soft and subtle and classy with a streak of wit and moxie and pizzaz.  She has a strong, fit  body with olive skin that I have always been envious of - especially in the summer when it browns so nicely.
I guess that describes my mom physically...but to describe her in any other way would require words that I simply don't have, so my experiences will have to do and you can piece together what she is like.  I love watching my mom sing in the church choir - she has the softest smile and her eyes light up and she glows.  She believes the words she sings.  She praises through song.  My mom is the best back-tickler out there.  She does it in a way that soothes tears and calms the heart.  My mom is funny.  Sometimes the comments she makes surprise me and just make me roll!  She is spunky and has opinions and will surely share them...in the right time and place.   My mom has always made things special.  From Christmas candy and our big Yule Log dinner to family vacations or boating trips.  My mom is mighty in faith.  Firm in her beliefs and unmoving in her love of the Savior.  She has always taken opportunities to share the truths that she knows with her children and grandchildren.  In small moments, she will remind us of a scripture or a quote that will help us through the day.  In other moments she full on testifies of the principles of the gospel and of the living Savior Jesus Christ.   More than anything, my mom testifies through her example.  She knows it.  I have no doubt that she knows this gospel is true.  I have been able to lean on her faith and her testimony many times through my life.  If I tell my children and grandchildren one day, what the greatest thing I learned from my mother was...it would be to have faith.  To hold on to the Savior, to be hopeful because He lives and loves us, to move forward in hard times because "our future is as bright as our faith."  That the Lord WILL guide us, but we must be willing to move - that we must be strong on trudge on too.  She has always let me cry to her, but usually at the end of some melt down she reminds me of what I need to do next, or how I can make my situation better...then leave the rest to the Lord.  Then she reminds me to choose to be happy - that it is a choice.  My mom is determined to keep her covenants.  She would crawl to keep her covenants.  I realized the other night while talking to her, that my fixedness in the gospel and my beliefs - my unmoving stances - come from her.  She is steadfast.  A pillar.
I remember one time when I was a teenager, my mom and I got into a bit of an argument (my fault of course), and she later told me how her mother always stayed calm.  She said that if she could be half the woman her mom was she would be pleased.  Well Mom, I haven't told you this, but I often think of Grandma Hazel, your mother, watching you from across the veil as you make her chocolates, sew pretty things and share your testimony, and I know she is proud.  Grandpa too.  If I grow to be half the woman you are, I will consider myself pretty accomplished and talented.
Dad.  First thing I think of when I think of my dad are his hands.  I love my daddy's hands.  The are strong and worn from age and hard, hard work.  Yet they are gentle and kind and clean.  When I think of my dad's hands I think of the countless amounts of time he has spent serving others with those good, Christ-like hands.  My dad serves my mom, he serves us kids, he serves the ward, he serves the people he works with, he serves strangers, thus he serves the Lord.  If there is anything I think my dad has taught me and exemplified so wonderfully, it is the importance of being kind - of having charity - that tenderness and sensitivity is something to be strived for, not ashamed of as the world might believe.  We cannot serve enough.  Whether it is his insisting on staying after a church meeting to help put up chairs, or drive miles and miles to see me when I've had a rough college day, he always puts himself last.
Even though my dad is a tender man, he is definitely a manly man too.  He works hard, long hours in our yard fixing things and trimming things and cleaning things and lifting things.  Many a time I have come home from school on a Friday afternoon to find my dad sweaty with dirt marks on his face and leaf trimmings in his hair.  He is tall and skinny but built and strong.  His brothers have guts, but he has always stayed lean.  I have always had people tell me how well he ages too.  Hopefully since that is the case with both of my parents, it will be the case for me.  He has calm blue eyes and light brown wavy hair.  He has combed it the same way since before I can remember.  In the sun, you can see hints of red in his hair - both on his head and in his facial hair if it is long enough.  He has freckles on his face and arms.  They come out mostly in the summer, but they aren't really speckley freckles like mine.  They sort of blend together making him look like he has a nice tan.  People tell me I look like my mom sometimes, but I definitely have my dad's coloring and that unmistakable "Russon look."  I like that I have my dad's eyes.  Apparently I have his jokes too.  Oh, my dad's jokes.  They are such "dad" jokes. You know the kind - punny, semi ridiculous little comments here and there.   Sometimes they include a swearword or two (it's probably the most righteous swearing you'll ever hear and coming from my dad you would only be able to laugh yourself silly).  Sometimes I'll roll my eyes at jokes he makes...then I'll catch myself telling the exact same one a few days later.  I am my father's daughter, that's for sure.
Dad is extremely talented.  He has a tenor voice that could calm you amidst the fiercest of storms.  I still ask him to sing me to sleep sometimes.  He shares his voice in the Tabernachle choir, but never misses an opportunity to just sing with his family.  He shares his testimony through song.  Truth exudes from him when he stands up and sings.  He loves to cook and come up with strange concoctions - sometimes we approve of them and other times we let him know that he doesn't ever have to make that particular meal again.  He is creative and clever.  He is a wordsmith.  My love of words and writing comes from him.  He is a romantic and tells me to dream and imagine and believe in all the good magical things in the world.
I am a daddy's girl - his baby girl.  He reminds me, through his love, how much my Heavenly Father must love me.  Dad, you have set the standard.  You will be my measuring tape.  You have exemplified the kind of man I want to spend forever with.  Thank you for your blessings, tender hugs, hard work, and your testimony.
I could go on and on about the different lessons my parents continuously teach me everyday, but there simply isn't enough time or space.  But from the voice of their daughter, people will know that my parents, Scott Chatfield Russon and Sherry Gibb Russon are people of God and they are happy because of it.  They change the world and I thank my first Father everyday that He gave me to them.