Disney Deceptions & Marriage Misconceptions

How would one quantify love? I remember wondering as I was getting ready to marry Matt if there was some sign or level which could be recognized as "enough" to mean marriage was a good idea. Perhaps I didn't love him enough, I thought, or the right way, or maybe I wasn't twitterpated enough compared to other couples. It did not help that however unable I was to put a leveling system to it all, I could tell for certain that Matt definitely loved me more. 

Up to that point, my romantic ideas came largely from Disney, and to be fair, the media at large. Extremely attractive females and cartoon princes falling deeply in love at first sight with a sudden knowledge that they had met their match. No arguments, no major character flaws (other than perhaps the quantity of corny lines.) The degree of surety, the attachment, and the sudden need for the other was definitely not what I had experienced. I must not be doing love the right way. Or perhaps Matt and I just weren't right for each other. Maybe there would be someone else to come along who would make me feel like those girls did on the movies.

While in my heart of hearts I had fears such as these, I felt overall peace about this Matt guy. Our date was set for December, announcements were out, details were being taken care of, and the 17th ebbed ever closer. I remember wondering if it would just hit me one day, and I would be like in the movies. Nope. No such transformation. But all was calm and peaceful as we went forward on the day of, celebrations, dancing, parties, etc. 

I have since realized my mistake in confusing the movie love/lust combo for "real love." And I am quite relieved that my kind of love is completely different from the characters I obsessed over. Mine is real, you see. 

It has been really neat to see how the love is just getting sweeter, deeper, lovelier, you know? True love vs. True-er love I guess. If this is the love trajectory, I am looking forward to the next 75 years.

Happy Valentines Day! 

This is us a few months ago in front of the Bountiful Temple, where we were married.

Daphne

Daphne. Small, wrinkley, pink and fuzzy. Dark hair, and glossy eyes that peek once in a while in between naps. Some of our dearest friends just had a baby girl. She is so incredibly small. How is it possible that we come in such small packages, and then some end up 6-7 feet tall? I guess it has been a long time since I have been with someone so little.

Special Time With Stirling

Tonight we went over for our usual Sunday evening activity: Downton at Kayes, 8:00 sharp and one must never be late for that. Afterwards we sipped hot cocoa with Kaye, and it brought back the hundreds of memories of my nightly special time with Stirling. Being two years apart and the best of friends for the majority of our lives, we used to sneak down after everyone was "asleep," tip toe tip toe; (it is not special time if everyone knows about it, of course). And then heat our water for cocoa and biscuits. The nightly ritual was always special, somehow the frequency did not diminish the novelty of our nightly escapades. I had to hurry or else he would finish his before my mug even came out of the Microwave. I must apologize to my other siblings, who of course caught us once in a while. Stirling usually gave them some excuse, like that he forgot something downstairs. They were a little to smart for that. So once in a while we would have visitors; Gavin was always on our tail and most frequently joined us for a trio. Clarissa was another guest on occasions. In some cases Colin was invited as he never complained or gave us trouble. The older kids were...not interested and even if they were it would have meant trouble, with a capital T. 

So in honor of my adorable little brother in Argentina, I am posting an early memoir of our lifelong friendship:

Happy Sabbath little brother, looking forward to seeing you in about 10.5 months.

-J

Cushions, Pillows, and Fluff

I started a blog. So sue me. I didn't really intend to, nor did I ever see myself becoming the so-called blogger type. I can take comfort in the fact that this will be viewed by a handful of people who already know me and needn't bathe themselves in my thoughts. I myself am one of the many innocents who got sucked into it all by the alluring ideas, recipes, home improvement ideas, and DIY pictures on pinterest that make you feel like you can do anything. These whisk you away to one of the hundreds of mommy blogs featuring another organized, cleanly, cook of a super being that must be from another planet. 

Matt says I am passionate. We all are, I think. Art in all its forms must be the food of passion, or maybe just the expression of it. I have been immersing myself in some art recently. Musicals, books, visual arts, movies; you know what I mean. The resulting emotional dissonance is causing myself to..spill over the top. So much to feel, to think, say and do and be. And in today's world of idealists and philosophers, we can all change the world! We have a voice! Any idiot can turn on the computer and write ideas to the millions of self-appointed critics, (or in most cases, like this one, a few pitying friends). We don't need any primitive town squares, taverns, nor wildfire rebellions of the university. We just need our little friend the blog. A source for approval and validation of our lives as we spill our hearts and guts to...who knows!? Where might it go? Who might be reading or viewing or caring? An exciting prospect, a risk and cost-free proposition with unknown results. We hope to do it all, create, share, change, and publicize....from our couch.

Fabulous of course. Is it any wonder that America is getting fatter by the year?