Sorted

After years of debating - I decided to finally get sorted on Pottermore. I was terrified. After all, what if I got put in Slytherin? Or worse - Hufflepuff.

The verdict?

Yup. I'm a Ravenclaw. Me and Luna Lovegood are going to be BFFs. Aw yeah.

Counselor Anxiety

One day you might find yourself sitting by me at church and hear me utter these words while I shift uncomfortably: "I have counselor anxiety." And you'll wonder to yourself, "What is counselor anxiety?"

Here it is.

counselor anxiety
/ˈkouns(ə)lər/aNGˈzī-itē/
noun

(1)A moment of stress brought on by any action which reminds a person of being surrounded by 30 fifteen-year-olds (2) A feeling of uncomfortableness created when someone is talking who shouldn't be (3) PTSD for EFY counselors

Let me apply this into real-world scenarios for you.

The False Doctrine Scenario: When I'm sitting in sacrament meeting and someone bears their testimony about something that is not remotely part of our taught gospel.

 The Oversharer Scenario: When "that person" in your ward decides to tell you about their most-recent foray into the darkest depths of sin. Or about their latest breakup. Or their familial issues. Nope. No one ever wants to hear all that at church. EVER. Trust me. Church is not the time to share your diary entries.

The "Oh-My-Gosh-the-People-Behind-Me-Won't-Stop-Talking" Scenario: As an EFY counselor, we'd just turn around and tell them to shut up. Because we had that kind of authority. When it's people your own age, this usually happens:

How about one last example for you?

The Bad Teacher Scenario: Let's be honest, some teachers are just really uncomfortable. Like that teacher who has nothing positive to say (the word gospel does mean "good news," right?). Or that teacher who thinks their lesson is actually a talk. Or the one who forces their own personal opinion onto you ("The gospel according to ____").

And I KNOW you've all felt one or all of these things before - so don't judge me. Just because I have a term for the feeling.

You Make Me Wanna Roll My Windows Down and Cruise

Coming back from vacation is the WORST. But mostly for all of you - because now you have to look at my pictures and become insanely jealous.

Prepare to be green with envy (and even more so when you see the rest of the pics on Facebook).

So, Sunday we got on the boat in New Orleans:

And then Monday I soaked up some sun on the Sun Deck:

Tuesday was more of the same:

Then Wednesday was our first stop in Roatan, Honduras. We went zip-lining and then soaked up some rays on the beach.

Thursday and Friday's activities were a little dangerous to take pictures of in-the-moment (cave tubing in Belize and ATVing in Cozumel), but I did get a pic afterwards to reflect both days:

Saturday it was back on the boat to return to New Orleans. And it was raining - so no laying out for us. (Sucked. I wanted to go out with a bang.)

And then Sunday we packed up our bags and got off the ship in New Orleans:

And that's it. That was our cruise. Jealous yet?

Fat Kid

Last night I couldn't decide between a cinnamon roll and ice cream, so I had both. That was after demolishing my burrito bowl from Chipotle. With chips and guac. Sometimes I eat my feelings...

 

And I don't know whether I should feel relieved or ashamed that Louis C.K. totally understands and relates to how I feel.

My Future Family

Just close your eyes and imagine me surrounded by all of the following:

My part-beagle, part-lab.

OR my bagle hound (part beagle, part basset hound).

And of course, my house wouldn't be complete without my teacup pig.

You can totally see it, can't you?

RAGE

Y'all - the day has arrived. Last weekend I FINALLY moved out of my parents' house - again. Two years later than anticipated but... whatevs. I'm an adult! And it feels awesome.

And for some reason I keep calling our new apartment "Club RAGE." I'm not really sure why. It's a little weird. But totes approp. Cuz that's what we're gonna do there - rage. All the time. Constant raging. Rage the days and nights away. Rage rage rage.

And I KNOW you all totes want to see pics. So, wait no further... I present to you CLUB RAGE. (It's still a work in progress, so don't judge too harshly. This is just to give you an idea. It'll be perfect by opening night.)

This is my room...

This is where the magic happens... wait, what? No. I just sleep here.

My $25 bookshelf - my faith in Craigslist has been restored.

Bathroom - crushed it with that color palette.

Living room - Vic's couch is literally the MOST comfortable thing.

And Scott, being the stud he is, brought me orchids to complete the place. How did he know that my dream was for a boy to show up on my front porch with orchids? Oh, he stalked my blog. (Never underestimate the power of a blog post, ladies.) He is SUCH a good boyfriend. And just so you know, her name is Ophelia. Ophelia the Orchid. And so far she loves her new home.

 

So, come visit us, hookers! Let's rage.