Daylight reflections...

Have you ever honestly thought you were about to die?  Last night, I stared my mortality in the eyes.  It scared the crap out of me.

The only light on in my condo was the lamp next to my bed.

I was laying in bed at 10:30, hoping to get through the last few chapters of The Lost Symbol by Dan Brown.  It had definitely been a good read, and I was thoroughly engrossed.  When I heard the first repetitive raps of knuckle-on-door, I caught my breath.  You may not know me very well, but I can promise you this:  I don't often have visitors coming by during the late hours of the night.

Resuming normal breathing, I reassured myself that it was probably just someone knocking on a wrong door, and perhaps even a little tipsy from an early night of debauchery.  I remained nestled under my covers anticipating the visitors quick retreat. 

The second set of door-rapping made my heart skip a beat, and the male voice shouting "Help!" wasn't making things any better for me.  Knowing that if a grown man outside my front door was having issues fending for himself, there was nothing I was going to be able to do.  The only thing I could think to do was to check on the situation through my peephole and see if I needed to call the police for the man.  What I saw literally scared me as I have never been scared before.

There was a dark figure standing on the other side of my door.  He wore a ski cap...not pulled down over his eyes, but a ski cap nonetheless.  He was wearing an army surplus-type jacket, and was carrying a backpack.  He would knock repeatedly on my door, lean in close and shout "Help. Help.", and then begin pacing back and forth on the landing in front of my door.  Then I noticed the cell phone he was talking into, and I heard him say..."Yeah, I can't get her to open the door.  I'm going in."  Seconds later, his hands were on the doorknob and he was trying to gain entrance into my home.

My world began spinning.  Not only was someone trying to get me to open the door under the pretense of needing help, but he was talking to someone about what he was doing, and he was attempting to force his way into my home.  At the moment, my house was still dark except for the lone lamp that was on in my bedroom.  I had three thoughts as I rushed over to my dining room table and began feeling around looking for my car keys:  1)  The only other exit from my condo would be to jump off the balcony.  I saw MANY problems with this.  First, I was WAY to terrified of heights/falling.  Second, it was likely I would injure myself and not be able to run away.  And third, he had been talking to someone else.  It was possible that his "partner" was waiting for me below.  2)  Once I found my car keys, I could set off my car alarm and hope to attract some attention.  Of course, the problem with this is that we have all become so accustomed to ignoring those annoying alarms when they go off day and night.  And...given that my particular building is all empty these days due to lots of foreclosures, and given that my car was the only one parked out in front of my nearly abandoned building, this guy at my door would definitely know that I was inside and aware of my current situation.  And...3)  This guy wanted in now.  There was only a door between him and me, and even if I called the police, they'd never get there on time. 

Keys in hand, I crept back over to the door with the man on the other side who was still pounding on it, shouting for help, and trying to use the doorknob. 

As I stood there full of terror, I felt my heart wanting to jump right out of my chest, and noticed a twitch in my left leg that had begun to violently shake as my fear increased.

It felt like he sensed I was there. 

I watched through the peephole as he again knocked on the door and leaned in to speak.  But this time his shouts for "help" turned into, "I'm with property security.  We noticed that the fire alarm is going off for your unit, and I need to get in there to make sure that everything's okay."

Did I believe him?  I wanted to.  I wanted to think that it was just security doing their job.  I wanted to believe that I didn't need to be worried at all.  But I couldn't stop thinking about his initial shouting for "help", or his hands on the doorknob.  In a single moment of non-clarity, I decided that if this intruder wanted in (which he clearly did), the wooden doorjamb and hollow metal door was going to do nothing to stop him.  Hoping for the best, I unlocked the door.

I only opened the door a few inches, keeping my still twitching leg hidden behind.  The man outside my door said, "Are you alright?"  I responded yes.  He then asked, "Are you alone?".  Knowing that he already most likely was fully aware of the answer, I determined that there was no way I was going to vocally admit to being completely alone in this nearly abandoned building.  My response was a quick, "Everything's okay."  He asked me again if was alone, and then said that the fire alarm had gone off for my unit and he needed to come in and check on it.  I told him that no alarm was going off, there was no fire, and that I was going back to bed.  I shut the door and locked it, willing him to leave. 

He stayed a few minutes longer, and when I finally got the nerve to look through the peephole again, he was gone. 

For thirty minutes I sat inside my condo, atop my covers on my bed, staring at the wall.  I had never asked to see identification.  I didn't look to see if there was "SECURITY" written across the back of his jacket.  I still didn't know if this man was really just a random off the street who'd been casing my place.  Again faced with the question of what to do, I had a few thoughts.  First, it was possible that this guy could be coming back. Which, of course, also meant that it was possible that I could be facing non-existence in a few short hours.  And, if that were the case, I was not going to be found dead wearing old pajamas, hair dried and parted down the middle from an earlier shower, and no bra.  You may be asking yourself..."Did she?"  Yes...she did.  I dressed for the occasion.  I fell short only in going out and picking up a bouquet of white lilies to grasp in my cold hands during that final moment.

Once I felt "presentable", my next thought was that I couldn't sit in my home not knowing if he was coming back, or if he'd truly been with property security.  So I picked up my purse, my keys and my phone, and left my condo.  The smart thing would have been for me to drive to any number of friends homes nearby.  But...last night I was not being all too smart.  Remember I'd already opened the door once.  No...instead I walked out to my car, started the engine, and began driving around the complex looking for a security guard who may have been walking the premises.  My intention was to stop the person, and explain that I needed to see their ID showing them as security so that I could go back home and get some sleep.  Though much else was lost on me during those few hours, it was NOT lost on me that in my attempt to confront the security guard, I could also be walking right into a situation with a non-security guard that was still out on the prowl for the night.

Having been unable to track down the person by car, I pulled up in front of the clubhouse and made a call.  No...not the call I should have made the entire night.  It was not the police that I called, but rather the night-call HOA.  I explained the situation and told the woman that she needed to get in contact with the on site security to determine if, in fact, it had been a security guard at my door.  She told me that it was impossible for her to do at that late hour, but that she could have someone get back to me in the morning.  I explained to her that she wasn't understanding.  Either she found a way to check with security, or the cops were being called.  Why?  Because I needed sleep!  She put me on hold, and moments later her supervisor was on the line.  She asked me to stay near my phone while she tracked down the information I needed. 

It took them 25 minutes, but eventually she called back and said she'd spoken with the actual security officer who'd been at my door.  She confirmed the story about the fire alarm reading, but stated that it was actually a false alarm in an entirely different building. 

Having confirmed who "he'd" been, I finally drove back home and walked up to bed. 

I still don't understand why he was knocking in the manner he'd been knocking, or why he was shouting for "help", or why he kept asking me if I was alone.  Despite the confirmation, those nagging facts still lingered.  They rolled around in my thoughts, as the moon outside my window kept casting shadows on the angles of my bedroom walls, for the two and a half hours it took me to finally cry myself to sleep.

Self-doubt...

Last September, I was released from my calling as the Sunbeam teacher. I was sad that I was no longer going to be with those "little nuggets", but was excited at the idea of being the Enrichment leader. Little did I know that I would struggle as much as I did.

Right from the very onset, I felt overwhelmed. Here I was...the girl who'd been inactive since right after highschool (with a few short stints in a singles' ward here and there). I had never really attended Relief Society, let alone gone to Enrichment meetings. And...suddenly...I was in charge of putting them together.

In October, we had our Super Saturday.
In December, it was a simple gift-wrapping party.
In January, we did a little boy and girl haircutting class.
In March, we had a "Mad Hatter" un-birthday party to celebrate the RS birthday.
And then...in May, we had a homemaking fair based on the "Five Little Pigs".

Though all of the activities turned out okay, I definitely felt myself pulling further and further away from the gospel and those friends I'd made in the ward. The self-doubt was nearly disabling. One of those friends mentioned later on that she had noticed a "light" that seemed to go away in March, and then again in May. I can honestly say that it was no coincidence that it coincided with those last activities. Even I could feel myself shutting down and pulling away somewhat.

Anyhow, after that last activity, I had some real concerns. Though I completely believe in inspiration in callings, I felt the Opposition was really working on me, and making me focus more on my inabilities and shortcomings than on all those things that I was gaining by having to put myself out there in ways that weren't always comfortable. The part that scared me the most, was that...though I had gone a year with complete and absolute activity in the gospel when I'd been the Sunbeam teacher...I had been finding reasons nearly twice a month since November to be anywhere else but in my ward. The grayness that had been around me for nearly most of my adult life seemed so close...so tangible...and I was afraid that it would just overtake me.

So...the night of my last activity, when my RS president asked me how I'd thought the night had gone, my eyes teared up and the words escaped from my lips: "I want to be released."

I hadn't thought that I'd ever ask to be released from a calling. Despite all the work, and sleepless nights, and self-doubt...I had intended on trying to stick it out...to make it work. And then...that one night...I just caved.

I felt horrible about the whole thing. I had even gone back and forth on it the entire next week. It's not that I didn't enjoy putting together a plan and seeing it come together. And...I even enjoyed the research and the physical preperation that went into it. Though stage-fright was still an issue, I was getting used to the limited amount of "conducting" that I had to do at the get-togethers. Did I really want to be released? To be honest...I wasn't sure.

That next week, I'd had a conversation about the whole thing with a good friend of mine. By the end of that conversation, I was determined to stick it out and to make things work. But, alas, there were other plans in store for me. Just a few days later, I was released from Enrichment and called to be the Valiant 9 teacher.

Yesterday was my first class with the 9-year-olds. I had such a fun time preparing the lesson all week. I met my class after sacrament, taught the lesson (hopefully they learned a thing or two), and then headed off to sharing time with the kids. As I sat in sharing time, I couldn't stop smiling and thinking to myself about how good I felt.

Sure...I'm sad that I couldn't persevere in the calling I'd been given. I'm sad that I let my own self-doubt and worries push me into a corner that I felt the need to escape from. But...in the end...I feel like I'm in a place where I NEED to be...for me, for now.

A park in Aliante...

Despite all my issues with creepy, crawly bugs and animals of all sorts, I picked up four of the funniest and cutest nephews and nieces on Saturday and hauled them out to the park in Aliante. We (and for the most part I mean that figuratively) picnicked, checked out the ducks and turtles, played on some tall, swirly slides, and then played in the water.

love. these. four.

Goodbye to 2009

Dear 2009,

This year you brought so much pain and heartache. Friends and family lost jobs, lost homes, lost loved ones. These are just a few of the things that I will remember the most:

- Round after round of job re-alignments, job layoffs.
- Watching co-workers (friends) packing up their desks, their lives momentarily shattered with just one unexpected meeting.
- The constant transcript running through my own mind of "who will it devastate next", and "will I have the resources (emotionally, physically) to be able to help ease their burden."
- The fear of knowing that at any second...it could be me.

And aside from the economic turmoil you brought, you also allowed for mistakes to be made, self-doubt to marinate, obsessiveness to spin out of control at times. And...quite simply...you brought hurt and sadness.

So...today I say goodbye to all of those things...the pain, the heartache, the fear, the mistakes, the self-doubt, the obsessiveness, the hurt, and especially the sadness.

I also say goodbye to much happier moments.

2009...this year you reminded me of the importance of not only practicing my faith, but surrounding myself with it. Had I not done so, I never would have truly found myself. Between the new three-year-olds I began teaching in January, to dinners and Bunco nights with the girls, to the cultivating of those friendships that were sparked in late 2008...I finally feel like I've found my place. I know why I'm here...and what my purpose is right now. That self-realization was definitely a long time in coming.

This year also brought news of friends whose little families were soon to expand. You brought news of new homes bought, new jobs found, and even a few dreams realized. You brought visits with distant relatives, laughter at family dinners, closeness during the holidays, and the simple joy of being around loved ones.

And...most importantly, 2009...this year you brought hope for what is to come.

Today I find myself looking back and wanting to shake off a lot of this past year...to fold it up into a neat little package, place it in a beautiful box, tie a pretty ribbon around it, and place it squarely on the shelf. I don't want to forget you, 2009. There were a lot of life-lessons learned, ones that should be remembered. But...I'm definitely done with you and am looking forward to spending some quality time with 2010.

So...please take care, 2009. Know that you were loved (despite a few rocky times), and know that you will not be forgotten.

May our paths never cross again,
With all my love,
Shauna

I think a little celebration is in order...

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)

A new chapter...

"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...

Happy Easter...

Saturday, I went over to my parents house and hung out with my family.

Sonya, Alyssa, Lexy and I made necklaces using glass tiles (for us older girls), scrabble pieces (for the younger girls), and scrapbooking paper. It was a fun, simple idea, and I really liked the results!

Here's Lexy wearing the scrabble necklace with a picture of a cupcake on it. (And...of course...she wanted to wear Aunt Shauna's glasses. It's amazing that I could see well enough to take the picture!)

The rest of the necklaces we made.

Grandma and Alyssa filling some of the plastic eggs. They dyed the real eggs after I'd left that night.

Josh and Alyssa playing Guitar Hero. It's funny how even when they are playing a video game, you can see their personalities. Alyssa...the fidgity rocker. And Josh...the laid back rocker. I love it!

Lexy giving me her "funny" face. Eeks...more "scary" than "funny". :o)

Sunday morning, Lexy, Alyssa and Tyler searched for eggs in the backyard. Josh was at his dads' house, but was able to get his Easter goodies when he got home that night.

Grandma helping Lexy with her eggs...

Alyssa showing all her eggs. What's that in the front, right-hand corner??? An egg with a $$ on it? Where were those when I was growing up?!?! :o)

Aunt Shauna, the accomplice...

So here's a little picture story from my Sunday afternoon with Lexy at Grandma's house.

Aunt Shauna: "Lexy, you're not supposed to be getting up there, are you?"

Aunt Shauna: "Here, let me help!"

Aunt Shauna: "Hold on! Look at you! Such a big girl!"

Grandma walking into the room: "Lexy, get down from there! What are you thinking?"

Lexy turning to Aunt Shauna, Shauna winking at Grandma, and Aunt Shauna saying: "Oh, it's okay Lexy. Remember, Aunt Shauna said it's okay, and Aunt Shauna has no rules."

I only let her stay up there for a few moments longer, just enough to make her think that she was getting away with something spectacular. Thank goodness my sister and my mom both play into my "too cool for rules" persona that my nephews and nieces have always known. No sitting on the counters? Not when you're helping Aunt Shauna make dinner. No tossing balls in the house? It's okay if Aunt Shauna does it first. Popsicle before dinner? Absolutely. Outside after dark? Why not (when Aunt Shauna's with you, of course). That's my role. I get to spoil them and let them do nearly anything they'd like (within reason), because I'm the "cool" one. Imagine that! Me...the "cool" one. Kids are great!

At least the girls enjoyed a little relaxation...

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!!

Intentionally vague for the moment...

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...

A month of "wrap-ups"....

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)

At what point did I lose my sense of shame???

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)

Mis-adventures in babysitting...

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)

It's over when the "choir guy" sings...

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.

Christmas 2008

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.

Birthday Blahs...

Normally, I'm a fairly positive person...usually erring on the side of seeing the glass half full. But one day a year, I completely allow myself to wallow in my own misery. (Okay...so it's not that bad.)

Here are some examples of why it is "un-fun" to be a December-baby.

Having my birthday on December 22nd meant that by the time my birthday rolled around, everyone was out of school for winter break. This also meant that at least half of my friends were travelling with their families to visit their relatives. Of those friends that were still in town, most of them weren't able to come to a birthday party because their parents had just spent money prepping for Christmas, and there just wasn't the extra to spend on a birthday present. So...rather than let their kid go to a party just for fun (as even then I thought that presents really were overrated), they just wouldn't let them go at all. There was one year when I was ten or eleven. My mom had actually agreed to let me invite a bunch of girls over for a sleepover party. I must have given out 16 invitations. Only one girl showed up.

And even though I admit that presents were overrated, sometimes the presentation surrounding the gifts seemed somewhat lacking. Because often times there just weren't the friends in town to come to a party, most of my December birthdays were had with just my mom, my dad, my sister and my brothers (and any foster kids that happened to be living with us at the time). My mom would make a cake, and before we'd sit down at the table, she'd say to me, "Shauna, since it's your birthday, why don't you go pick a present from under the tree?" Now...the logical part of my brain is fairly certain that there was most likely an "extra" gift under the tree for me. But that illogical part...the part that makes you feel sometimes unimportant...well, it would tell me that my parents just simply hadn't taken the time to actually get me a birthday gift.

Other times, when they had a gift specially set out for me on my birthday, they'd hand me a "specially" wrapped gift in "special" white paper. Only, when I actually went to open it, I'd realize that it was really just Christmas paper turned inside out. And...even though the paper meant absolutely nothing...I still remember feeling like I wasn't important enough to have birthday wrapping paper.

There was one year, though, when I was turning 17, that my parents tried really hard to make my birthday special. But let me back up just 11 months.

My family had moved to Henderson the month I turned 16. Our old house had sold quickly. So, the month before the big move, my family had moved in with my grandparents. Living with my grandparents, dealing with the move, trying to fit Christmas in there somewhere....well...it kind of meant that my birthday got a little lost in the mix.

That next year, knowing that most people head out of town in December, my parents decided that they were going to throw me a surprise sweet seventeen party...in November.

As I said, it was a surprise party for me. I didn't have a clue. I remember that three girls from my Young Women's class had invited me to go shopping at the mall the week before. I had never been invited to go "shopping at the mall" with a group of girls, so I was pretty excited about it (I was definitely a bit socially lacking back then). Anyhow...that morning, as I was getting ready, I'd asked my mom where her fingernail clippers were. She told me that they were upstairs in her bedroom, in the nightstand next to her bed. I ran upstairs, opened the drawer to the nightstand, and saw it...the invitation. No joke...I was mortified.

You see...there were several problems.

1) It was a party...for me. Given that I had not had many parties at all...I definitely did not enjoy being the center of attention. The thought of people standing around, singing at me, was horrifying.

2) It was a surprise, and...because it was a surprise...it meant that there was going to have to be a setup in order to get me out of the house. Whereas I'd thought I'd been invited to go to the mall on my own merits, it turned out that it was because my mom had asked these girls to help get me out of the house for a while.

3) Having moved to Henderson only 11 months before, and only having one friend that I ever brought around the house, I knew that my parents wouldn't have had a clue who to invite.

All of these thoughts running through my mind, I finished getting ready to go hang out with the girls at the mall.

The girls kept me out of the house for about 3 hours. When they "dropped me off", I'd already known that the living room would most likely be empty, and that all of the "festivities" were most likely going to take place in the family room. So, I walked in the front door, and headed straight upstairs. I so did not want to be there. I guess I thought that if I didn't acknowledge it happening, that maybe it would all just go away. But...it didn't. Just minutes after I headed upstairs to barricade myself in my room (okay...I just closed the door and locked it), my mom came knocking. She said something about "dinner being ready". I told her I wasn't hungry. She mentioned that my dad wanted to "talk to me about something". I told her that I wasn't feeling good, and asked if it could just wait until morning. And then the "mom" voice told me that I had to come out of my room and go downstairs. I knew I was doomed.

{Preparation for my "Sweet 17")

I walked slowly down the stairs, and slowly through the living room. As I turned the corner to the kitchen/ family room...all of my worst fears came true. There was a large group of people there. Turns out, my mom had made up a bunch of invitations. She'd given them to all the girls in my ward, and had given a stack to my older sister (she was 20, and at the time tended to hang around with a rougher, faux-leather clad bunch), and had given a stack to my younger brother (he was 13, and well...all of his friends were 13). So...imagine...three distinct groups of people....the church group...the wanna-be gang bangers...and the little boys. And me...dead center in the middle of all of the ridiculousness. The only saving grace of the entire night was that my one friend from high school (the only one my parents even knew of) was there.

All in all....I just don't have many fond memories of celebrating my birthday. It always seemed to be awkward or an imposition of sorts. And...getting older hasn't made it any easier. Whereas, when I was a kid, my friends who were kids had no say in whether they could spend a day with me during the ever-so-busy holidays, as an adult...you know that your adult friends are the ones making the decisions not to be able to take an hour or two out of their increasingly busy schedules to let you know that on one particular day each year...you're special.

I'd like to say that it hasn't affected me at all. But I'd be lying. At 32 years old, having any sort of attention on my birthday is difficult. I don't like it. When someone gives me a gift, I want to shove it under a bed or into a cabinet. I definitely don't want to open it right then, as there's too much focus on me...even if only for the three minutes it takes to rip the paper from the package. In fact, something I started doing years ago at work (in order to shift the focus as soon as possible) is, I bring the Christmas gifts for my co-workers the very same day I know that they are going to be singing at me. I "graciously" let them sing their song and hand me their joint card, and then I quickly whip out my Christmas treats for them and start handing them out.

Today though, I made a misstep. I accidentally handed out the Christmas gifts early. So when they walked into my office with their card and cake, I had nothing to defer the attention with. But...I made due. As soon as the last note was sung, I said a quick thank you, grabbed the cake and told them I was taking it to the conference room for everyone to share. Once I took the cake into the room (and just as everyone else had filed into the conference room), I announced that I needed to go get plates and utensils...leaving all the "work-party-goers" to linger a bit longer. Once I returned with the supplies, they said that the "birthday girl" needed to cut and serve the cake. I gave a short laugh, cut a piece and put it on the plate and, as I was practically running out of the room, I told them they'd all have to fend for themselves. I'm sure they thought I was just busy, and not that I was desperate to have the attention shifted as quickly as possible.

After work, I came home to my quiet and cozy condo. I made my favorite homemade soup, checked my e-mail, and now am writing a semi-pathetic blog about how lonesome a December birthday can be.

Even my best mate, Matty, couldn't share my birthday with me. As he works in grocery, he has his "yearly mandatory holiday schedules" that practically work him to death. I won't see him until Christmas day. Because the combined birthday/Christmas day isn't something I absolutely adore, we've decided to celebrate my birthday after the holidays have passed. To be honest, I'm kind of looking forward to it. I'm actually going to get to celebrate a day all to myself...not one that I have to share with all the various activities that go on during the holidays. In fact...I'm considering changing my birthday altogether. Though I know that you can legally change your name, changing my birth date may be a bit "shadier". If you end up seeing my mug in the paper with a column that starts out as "Shauna Ferguson, born May 9, 1976, was apprehended today...", you'll know why...

Only two and a half more hours to go before those Birthday Blahs are gone...

What a crazy month...

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.

And...here are some of the pictures at the Hotel.

It was so pretty. Unfortuntely, though...for reasons still unknown...we couldn't find anybody to serve hot chocolate. They had a little cafe...and the cafe was open...and there were prices posted. But...there was absolutely no one around. I still think they were abducted.

Wednesday, December 17th.

What can I say that most of you don't already know. We got REAL snow here in Las Vegas. As I was stuck at work for the first part of the "snow day", my fellow friends/co-workers and I headed out to the top floor of the parking garage for a little playtime.

And...here are some pictures from my part of town.

I think that one of the funniest comments I heard from people outside of Vegas was..."Now that h*** has actually frozen over, which of you are actually going to make good on all of those promises you made?" If you put aside that our home is so far from "h***", it was pretty funny.

Friday, December 19th.

Sonya and the kids came over to watch movies tonight. We had pizza, watched Christmas movies, and played around with the "Elf-Yourself" pages with their uploaded pictures. It was fun. Here are a few updated pictures.

Lexy just loves wearing glasses. I picked these up for a buck at Target just for fun.

I'm looking forward to the end of the year...looking forward to things slowing down some. And, I'm excited to make new resolutions for 2009. We only have 12 more days to go!!!