I like weekends.

Last weekend was perfectly planned. So many activities, scheduled into their tiny boxes. And it was a good weekend. A very good weekend. As I walked home from work on Friday, I had no clue what this weekend would hold. It was perfectly un-planned, and I thought just maybe I might get bored with a 3-day-no-plan weekend. False. Provo never fails me.

Friday was full of skating adventures and ice cream with some wardies.

Fun facts:

1. We tried to get some professional skaters (...really. They had sponsors and everything.) to teach us some tricks. I'm not very tricky, but I did master a spinning circle.
2. Skating backwards is a spectacular thigh work out. I was wonderfully sore the next day.
3. One time I busted my tailbone at this skating rink. That did not happen this time. Success!

Saturday, I went on a spontaneous, free, VIP rafting trip down the Provo river. It was pretty legit. And by legit I mean the biggest rapids where about the intensity of pool jets and I didn't even have to paddle. It was pretty great. 

Sundays are always blissfully busy. Church, nap (score!), Sunday dinner with the roommates' backup husband, ward prayer, broken stool, and brownies straight from the pan with the roommates and the Josh's. 

And the fun kept rolling today with a bomb.com trip to the zoo and hilarious FHE skits. 

This was the weekend of the T-Swift concert that once stood between me and coming to Provo. Although Livia is still raving about what an amazing concert Taylor put on, I can't help but think another perfect weekend was further confirmation that this was the right choice.

Life is Good

Last night (let's be real it was 1 a.m,) This morning, I laid in bed and wrote the perfect blog post expressing all my thoughts and feelings perfectly. Unfortunately, I only wrote it in my head. I considered getting out of bed and actually writing it down. It's not like I was sleeping (I was on a life-is-too-good-to-sleep high) so I gave it true consideration. But then the so-called "logical" part of me decided it was ridiculous to blog at 1 a.m. on a Thursday. No body should be awake at 1 a.m. on a Thursday. I decided I would just commit the whole post to memory. I'm sure you can guess just how well that worked now that it is 7:30 p.m. Thursday.

So instead of the eloquently drafted 1 a.m. version, you get this.
I love my life and here are a few reasons why:

1. Lauren is going on a mission. HOW THE HECK DO I EXPRESS MY FEELINGS ON THIS? It just makes me want to explode with happiness because I can tell that she is about to explode with happiness. Lauren has made a big impact on my life. A big impact on my testimony. She's on my list of heroes. Do you think if I beg her enough she'll do a guest post on my blog? *fingers crossed*
2. Heavenly Father reminded me how small and simple things can bring about great things. A friend from Eugene reached out and wants to get involved with the ward there. It's the best feeling. I love nothing more than when He let's me catch a glimpse of His love for someone.
3. My roommates are the greatest.
4. I accidentally got assigned two sets of home teachers. I'm pretty sure it's karma for being a brat about home teaching pre-mish.  (...it's a long story).
5. FaceTime with the nephews is quite possibly my favorite thing. They even let me play hide 'n seek with them. Technology. Love it.
6. My ward. I like them. Sometimes they like to play the "Will-Lisa-fit-in-this?" game. I'm good at fitting in smallish suitcases, in case you wondered. 
7. I eat chocolate chip pancakes at least once a day. How can you not love your life when you eat chocolate chip pancakes daily? Just don't tell my boss. She's trying to turn me vegan.
8. TedTalks. I'm obsessed. 
9. The BYU Library...I love that place. I have to pass it twice a day, and I stop in often. There are SO MANY books to read.
10. Sweatpants. Because every good life needs a little comfy.

Update: The Plate Guy

Remember The Plate Guy from Institute? I think we could safely re-name him The Stalker.

Lucy, Elizabeth and I slipped into church just before the meeting started. Only seconds later, The Plate Guy/Stalker appeared (note: he is not in my ward). "Hi Lisa! It's me; the guy with the plate from institute. I just had to run some errands this morning, like making the programs for my ward and stuff so I was here early and thought I'd come say hi! It was so great meeting you the other night!" Luckily, the meeting started so he slipped out of the room leaving me to think:

1. No one shows up to church THREE HOURS early to print programs.
2. It was kind of creepy that he hunted me down at church.

Oh but wait, it gets better. After church Lucy, Elizabeth and I sat outside the bishop's office waiting to get set-apart for our new callings, and guess who showed up? The Stalker. I tried desperately to keep my current conversation going when I caught a glimpse of him approaching out of the corner of my eye. But eventually, he weaseled his way into the conversation. Despite the fact that he showed up to church 3 hours early, he was late to sacrament meeting. I know because he was out in the hall trying to make conversation until halfway through the meeting. "See ya at institute?" Maybe. I just might explore the zillions of other institute classes in Provo.

It's flattering, right? I mean...I'm really glad he thinks I'm worth tracking down. But his methods are a little creepy.

In the off chance that you, Plate/Stalker Guy, are reading this, please know I think you are probably a very nice person. However, due to your extreme stalking skills, I am thoroughly creeped out. Perhaps in the future try something more subtle? Like waiting until the next institute class to say hi. Just an idea. Best of luck in your future endeavors finding the woman of your dreams. She's not me.

Reunion: They Were All in PANTS.

I walked into the gym, not sure what to expect. It had rained all day (fitting for the day of an Oregon mission reunion, don't you think?) so they moved the reunion inside. I was happy about that, because the outside plan was sports. Now all I'd have to do is stand around and make conversation and eat snacks. I could do that. Still, when we pulled into the parking lot I said a little prayer that I could be brave. Sometimes I turn shy, but that's not how I had been on the mission and it's not how I wanted to be now, here with all my favorite returned missionaries. As I entered the room, I heard someone running full force...at me. Sister Adair pulled back last minute (deciding tackling me to the ground may be a bit extreme) and wrapped me in a hug. And there it was: the answer to my prayer. I could be brave now. When you feel loved and safe, you can do anything.

I love these people. Even when they wear pants, although I do miss the skirts and tags.

Thank you for the memories. Thank you for the pick-me-up-and-spin-me-around hugs. Thank you for the love. Thank you for the high compliment, P Young. Thank you.

Fine China

I was called to repentance during institute tonight. It was all about using social media for good and letting your light shine. And I've been neglecting my little bloggy-poo. Apologies. I'll do better.

I think the #1 thing that stops me from blogging about the random happenings in my life is the fear that someone might read it. Which is silly, because that's sort of the point. I was reminded again of my favorite TedTalk: The Power of Vulnerability. That speech always gives me the courage to be courageous. I watch it when I need a dose of bravery - which is often.

Moving back to Provo has been the best thing for me, but it was also a little *cough*lot*cough* terrifying. I'm living on a different side of campus than I'm used to. I'm living with absolute strangers (don't worry, they are very nice strangers). I'm doing a job that I, quite frankly, do not have the technical skills for (but I like it!). And suddenly boys expect me to know how to interact with them again in a not-missionary way. I am SO not adjusting well in that department. I came home from a date, journaled about it....and then accidentally signed it "Sister Hamilton" *face palm*.  I am definitely a work in progress. And that's what this blog is for. It's all about BEcoming. So, obviously, I should probably blog about the process. Duh.

The first time I decided to wear pants in public post-mission, I needed moral support and encouragement. I changed from pants to a skirt and back to pants for a solid 30 minutes before a friend said, "You just have to do it and it will stop being weird!" She was right. I like pants now.

I can now sleep past 6:30am. Still not sure if I should be proud of that one or not.

Listening to my favorite jams was a pretty easy transition. Probs because I've always liked my little happy tunes.

Oh, back to the awkwardness of my interactions with men. I'm hoping it's kind of like the pants thing. You throw yourself in and then it eventually gets normal. Living in Provo is definitely throwing yourself in. In to the deep end. Or, maybe more like the ocean. Tonight, a boy wrote my number on a paper plate at the institute dinner and then refused to throw it away, carrying it around like a piece of fine china. By blogging about this, I'm probably going to have to refuse his Facebook friend request. Oh well. Anyway, as I was floundering in this conversation I kept hoping Lucy (one of the very nice, stranger roommates) would turn around and save me from my awkward self. She didn't. Which is probably good, because then I didn't have floaties and I was forced to swim or drown.

Life is an adventure. I should probably re-name this blog "BEcoming not-awkward Lisa" :)

Also, you should probably go here and watch this great video of an address by Elder Ballard at this year's BYU Women's Conference. Skip ahead about 19 minutes into the video where he starts to speak. It's worth it. And then we should talk about it, because it's one of my latest obsessions.