Joe and Joe Jr.

(Names have been changed to avoid embarrassment.)

As we sat down to dinner last night, Joe said that his belly had been upset since lunch. I asked what he had eaten for lunch. He said, "Chili and Tabasco sauce." Are you kidding me? Why? WHY?!!!

Note to the curious: a combination of chili and Tabasco sauce gives a person a bellyache. It's almost inevitable. Especially if said person is closer to 40- than 20-years-old.

I wasn't home at lunch, but I heard stories. Joe Jr. had asked Joe to get him a drink since Joe Jr. had his hands covered with food. Why were his hands covered with food? Because he doesn't like pizza toppings. So he removed them in such a way that both hands were covered with pizza sauce. I am pretty sure Joe Jr. is old enough to know that such "table manners" are unacceptable.

Joe thought he'd be a goofball (and prove a point) by sticking his hands in his own chili so he wouldn't have to get the drink. "Look at this!" he planned to say. "Do you still want me to get your drink?" Unfortunately, the chili was fresh off the stove and, as it turns out, fresh chili is HOT and can BURN! So, instead of following the plan, he instinctively said, "AAAAAAAH!!" and rushed for the water.

I can't really explain why adventures like this rarely happen when I am home. This may be the last time I dare stay after church for a meeting.

Service Week

There's been an unusual amount of grumpiness and fighting at our house lately. We are battling this by having a service week. Each day, we draw a name out of a hat and do a small act of service for that person. Day one went very well. Chris went grocery shopping for me. I made Beth's bed. Beth gave Nathan a homemade card that said, "Beth loves Nathan." Sarah made a big BYU poster for Chris. Nathan cut pictures out of the Ensign magazine of the temple and the prophet and apostles to give to Ammon. I wasn't sure how Ammon would react to that, but he was genuinely grateful. He put them in a special place to treasure. Ammon whipped up a little poem for Sarah. This was especially sweet since Sarah was having an extremely bad day and feeling worthless. Would you like to hear the poem?

Ode to Sarah by Ammon
Flowers bloom and the stars and moon shine
But you know my sister, she's really quite fine.
She's cool and you know she really is keen.
If she lived on Naboo, I'd elect her as queen.

Honestly, isn't that the sweetest thing? Doesn't it make you wish you had a brother who would write you a little poem when you were feeling down? Even me, I have a brother just like that. I keep a poem, written many years ago when I was having a bad day, in my scriptures where I can read it whenever I want. It makes me smile.

Happy Valentine's Day!

My husband is very sweet. He is kind and thoughtful and loves to bring me gifts. He usually brings chocolate because he knows me. One time, for no reason at all, he brought home a gift certificate for me to go get a manicure/pedicure. It was something I NEVER would have bought for myself. When I got to the nail place, the lady helping me said, "Oh, was that your husband who was in here earlier?" She told me that she had never seen another husband buy something like that for his wife. Really? I said. All the women who worked at the salon raved about how sweet and kind Chris was to get me that gift. One of them asked, "Does he always do things like that?" I said, "Yes." I think that's when I realized he's not a normal husband. I thought all husbands did things like that all the time and for no reason at all.

Because Chris is naturally so thoughtful and kind, there are a couple of Valentine's Days that stand out to me. Before I tell these stories, which I find hilarious, please note that I'm not much of a traditional romantic and this particular holiday isn't that big of a deal to me.

One year, I went out of my way to find a babysitter for Valentine's Day. Back then, leaving the kids was a major ordeal. We drove all the way from Park City to West Valley (about 45 minutes) to leave the kids with my sister. We spent the whole drive listening to a pre-game show on the radio. Apparently, I had planned our special date during the most important basketball game of the season. Not only did we get to listen to the pre-game show, I got to listen to Chris' exasperation that I had planned the date during the most important basketball game of the season. We were going to see a movie, but I had to eat first because I was pregnant. Well, that's just an excuse. I always have to eat first. Chris pulled into a fast food place and put the car in park, but didn't turn it off. I asked if he was coming in with me and he said, "NO! I'm listening to the game!" He didn't shout at me--he just has a certain level of passion about sports. In the end, he did come to the movie with me. He enjoyed it. We both enjoyed it. And we got to listen to the post-game show on the way home.

And then there was this one. We had a lovely date in the early evening. We were home and all the kids were asleep by 8:00!! Unbelievable! We had a whole evening to ourselves. So, Chris went to rent a couple of romantic movies. He came home and gave me a choice between Vantage Point and Scorpion King 2. I love it when Chris does things like this because it gives me such great story-telling ideas for later. I told a friend about the evening and he said, "I hope you picked Scorpion King 2 because that just screams Valentine's Day!" I didn't. I chose Vantage Point. Before you worry about me in this situation, remember that Chris went to see Twilight 2 (whatever it's called) without me--and I stayed home to watch Jason Bourne. I'm fine.

And then there was tonight. I just had my appendix out last week and I'm not feeling great. I have been lying around all week watching Chris sweetly do my work. And his work. And recover from jet lag after a week in England. He's amazing. Anyway, tonight I went out of the house--I got all dressed up in my yoga pants to look presentable--and went to hear him sing. Chris had a date with a bunch of old ladies. My grandma used to live in a retirement community and every once in a while, Chris would put on a concert for Grandma and her friends. She doesn't live there any more. She's moved on to an assisted living center. But the tradition continues. Tonight, I got to sit with my kids and listen to Chris sing love songs. He sang Nat King Cole, the Monkees, Don Ho, John Denver, and a bunch of his own songs. Chris croons and the old ladies swoon. He is such a charmer. I still think what I thunk the first time I saw Chris: he has a rich, smooth voice that I could listen to endlessly. It was a lovely Valentine's Day for me, just like usual.

I have always believed that romance isn't so much about what you're doing as who you are with. And I am with the one I love.

Speaking of the Beatles...

(which I was in the post I just wrote.)

Check this out:

This is Christopher on Abbey Road. (THE Abbey Road!!)

And here is the studio. Abbey Road Studio. You know, some pretty crazy singing went down in there. 

School's in session

Chris started school this week. He is getting his masters degree in songwriting. The only university that offers such a degree happens to be in England. Chris will do most of his degree online, but has to go to England every so often for a few classes. We have missed him.

At bedtime tonight, Nathan said, "It feels like we don't even have a dad."

Ammon said, "Yeah. It's like we're orphs."

Orphs?

"You know, half an orphan."

Would you like to see some pictures from Bath?

It looks like a mildly pretty little part of the world.

Bath is the home of Jane Austen. Chris happens to be there during the annual Jane Austen Festival. Apparently, the streets are full of people in period dress.

"The person, be it gentleman or lady, who has not pleasure in a good novel, must be intolerably stupid." --Jane Austen

A Roman bath--that's where the city gets its name, you see.

And Stonehenge. Chris is disappointed that the flash on the camera makes him look so...um, white. I think that being in the homeland (he does have English ancestory) is bringing out the anglo in him.

I know that it's not bright to announce online that your husband is out of town. It should therefore be noted that I live with my father.

Season to taste...

The following story took place last Sunday. Chances are I will draw out this story much longer than it needs to be. We decided to have chicken noodle soup and homemade French bread for dinner. I know what you're thinking: that's a menu better eaten in January than August. But why let seasons (or heat) dictate what we eat? Why?! By the way, sometimes in January, I want fresh-from-the-garden tomatoes on a BLT. I don't usually get that.

We also wanted to go on a Sunday drive and walk in at Silver Lake in Big Cottonwood Canyon. We couldn't leave until later because Christopher had commitments to home teach and practice with the ward choir and such. The plan was that we would go on our little adventure and then come home and make the glorious supper.

Before we left, I made the bread, as instructed by my husband. It was just rising to perfection when my parents came home. They had attended, I think, three (3!) Sacrament Meetings as full-time missionaries and decided that was enough. I asked my mom to finish the bread so we could leave. She said yes. (This works out best for everyone since my mom makes everything taste better and look prettier.)

We drove to the mountains and had a pleasant and peaceful walk around the lake. I may post pictures later if anyone expresses interest. We were leaving the lake and still had to drive home and it was already past 5:30. We eat on a schedule, not overly strict, but still, it's better for the overall health of the household. I thought that my parents would be at home STARVING and thinking, "We could just make the soup, but then we would be stealing Chris' thunder, not to mention his creative cooking outlet. We should just wait. Wait and starve." I tried to call to tell them to go ahead and cook dinner, but there was no phone reception right there. T-Mobile, you know. So, we drove home.

We got home to find that my parents had made dinner! The table was set! They were waiting for us! Which was a great surprise because we were hungry!

When my mom cooks, she uses slightly less salt and pepper and other seasonings than my sweet (and spicy) husband. My dad decided to make sure their milder soup was still suited to Chris' tastes. So, this is how we found Chris' place setting:

It wasn't enough to put salt and pepper near his bowl. They pulled out many spices, including cinnamon and vanilla. Ha ha. I thought it was funny.

And now, for your entertainment, I will quote from an episode of the t.v. show Psych, wherein Shawn and Gus eat dinner with a lovely family from India.

Raj: "You know, guys, my grandmother tends to make her food a little spicy. You might want to take it easy."

Gus: [laughs] Please! I'm one quarter Jamaican.

Shawn: I'm also one quarter Jamaican.

Gus: You are not. Stop telling people that.

Shawn: [to Raj's grandmother] I'm sorry, was this chicken seasoned with molten lava?

Shawn: [Crying slightly from the spice.] Dude, I can't see anything out of my left eye.
Gus: I see dead people.
[Both drink some water]
Shawn: My [goodness], even the water's spicy.
Gus: Who does that?

It's funnier on t.v.

Isn't he great?

Last week, we went to Mirror Lake. Wait, have I already mentioned that? Chris and the kids went fishing. I do not fish because I do not like killing things. I do, however, enjoy eating things. Therein lies the great contradiction of my life. Usually when Chris takes the kids fishing, he goes alone. Or if we go to the lake, I leave and hike around the lake. This time, we agreed to have enough time in the mountains to fish and to hike all together, as a family. That's what we did.

My point here is that I sat watching the family fish. I do not help. I don't agree with the "sport." I was amazed as I watched Chris. He had all four kids hounding him for attention. They each needed their hooks baited; they needed to cast (sometimes with help, always with supervision); they needed help to know when to reel in, to re-bait, to re-cast; they needed to be told not to jump in the water, not to climb on the slippery rocks; the list goes on.

I did not help with the parenting. I sat in my chair admiring the plants, rocks, and pretty water. And then I turned my attention to admiring my husband. He was so patient. He never raised his voice, never appeared to be annoyed, agitated, or tired of his little friends. I was in awe. I wish I could describe it better, but as it turns out I can't. He's just pretty great.

Has this ever happened to you?

Don't you hate it when you get together a friend who is vegetarian and so you plan a vegetable-based picnic dinner, not because she is intolerant (since she is, in fact, the most tolerant person you have ever met), but because you are respectful, and then your husband shows up unexpectedly carrying a big bag of beef jerky and steers the conversation to how he often ate dog meat while serving a mission in South Korea?

Yeah, me too.

(As a side note: my friend's 4-year-old son was at a neighbor's house. The neighbor asked him if he had any food allergies. He said, "Yes. I'm allergic to dead animals.")

Does it have to have a label to determine age-appropriateness?

We were taking a lovely afternoon walk. The kids brought their bikes along. After a while, Bethie got tired of riding her bike and insisted on a turn in the wagon. Chris was carrying her big wheel, when for some reason I don't fully understand, he decided it would be funny if he tried to ride it.

So, now, Beth has a brand new bike. It's so little. It's a two-wheeler with training wheels. She loves it. I will take a picture of her on it someday when I think about it.

We ought to patent this one.

Chris had a brilliant idea. Brilliant.

You remember his Snuggie™ that he loves so much?

The logical step now...the SNUGGLE: for really close families.

It's a very big Snuggie™ with 4 or 6 or 8 armholes. That way, many family members can wear the thing, snuggle in close, and stay warm.

Feel free to laugh.

I try so hard to have a normal family.

My boys. They have strange loves. Shall I reveal their latest amores on this celebratory weekend?

Ammon
The Conversation:
Me: Ammon, did you do any reading today?
Ammon: Yes. I read all the books about punctuation. I love punctuation!

Nathan

The Conversation:

Me: Nathan, will you please clean the bathroom?
Nathan: Yes, oh yes!!! I love to clean the bathroom. It's my favorite thing to do!

Chris
The conversation:
Me (in my head): I'm going to give this Snuggie™ I rescued from Lisa's D.I. pile to Chris for Valentine's Day. It will be soooo funny. It's just a joke to make him laugh.
Me (aloud): Happy Valentine's Day, Chris!
Chris: A Snuggie™! I love it! I've wanted one of these.
(And he wears it all the time.)

200th Post

Yes, faithful readers, I have made it to my 200th post. And if you're still reading my blog that says a whole lot of nothing, wow!

Anyway, tonight we took the kids to a skating rink. Rollerskates, rollerblades, scooters, etc. These are the things we learned about ourselves (mostly what I learned about everyone else because we haven't discussed it together):

Chris: Loves to skate! His brother, Nate, and he used to ice skate like crazy. When Chris first moved to Utah he took ice skating as a class at BYU. But he hasn't been skating at all since he met me. So, he was enjoying himself and the feeling of freedom as his skated around and around.

Megan: I never rollerskated as a child. That's right. I grew up as a little girl in the late 70's and early 80's and never ever rollerskated. I have ice skated, but mostly on dates and then some guy (my "date") would hold my hand and drag me around. To truly understand how I feel about skating, please read my friend Rob's feelings about sledding. But I'm not a complete loser. I totally rocked it on Ms. Pacman.

Ammon: Soooo excited to go. But he was pretty wobbly on those skates. He was not very willing to give himself time to learn how to move. So, he traded in his skates for a scooter. That worked out much better. However, he was a natural at Galaga. His talents lie in different areas.

Sarah: Had so much fun! She worked and worked to learn how to make those skates do what she told them to do. She was figuring some things out, but decided she had fallen too many times. Her little bottomus-hippopotamus was starting to hurt. So, she traded in her skates for a scooter. She was cheerful and thoroughly enjoyed the evening.

Nathan: Tried on the skates, but could not even stand up. So, he was the first to trade in his skates for a scooter. Nathan is both oblivious and a noncomformist. He paid no attention to other skaters' uniform behavior; he simply crisscrossed in front of them to get where he wanted to go. Everyone there skates around counterclockwise. But not Nathan. He goes whatever direction he wants. He's pretty coordinated and didn't cause too many problems. He just weaved in and out of all the others.

Beth: Wow. She was the surprise of the evening. She got what they call "trainer skates," made by Fisher-Price. She was a natural. She wouldn't let me hold her hand or help her at all. She skated and smiled and was having the time of her life. She's so little out there, but she was perfectly at ease. She saw some bigger kids doing tricks, and so she tried jumping up--and landing on her feet--with her skates on. But after a while, she got bored of that and decided she needed Chris to drag her around. Then she decided she wanted a scooter like the other kids. That was not as much fun for her. She doesn't quite have the balance down (even though it was one of those toddler-scooters), and so she fell over a lot.

Casual observation: At one point, Beth's scooter tipped over and she fell off. She was right in the middle of the rink where I couldn't get to her quickly. She couldn't get the scooter tipped upright. Adults and teenagers were careful to avoid her so she wouldn't get hurt. But there was one kid--couldn't have been more than 8--who stopped to help her. He's my new favorite stranger.

Happy Birthday Christopher!

It's his birthday, you see. That is why I wished him a happy birthday up there in the title line. Please accept my advanced apology for the cheesiness that will follow.

When we were dating, I tried to pray to ask Heavenly Father if Chris was "the one" for me. But I couldn't even ask the question because as soon as I got on my knees, I was overwhelmed with gratitude for the gift of Chris in my life. That's how I'm feeling today (even though Chris has been home sick, which is not really a great gift).

Chris brings balance to my life. When I am dramatic and passionate, he is a voice of reason and he calms me. When I am overly logical, he reminds me that emotion is okay. When I am down, he lifts me. When he is low, he allows me to help him. He is fun and spontaneous and I am neither. Well, except the fun part. I am nothing if not all kinds of fun. But spontaneous? No. No way. I majored in planning. Literally. Anyway, Chris balances my life. I love him everyday.

Always conscious of germs and disease, Chris chose not to blow out the candles on his cake. He clapped the air and the candles went out. The children thought it was a great trick.

Signed In

I did something odd today. I signed in to Google so that I could comment on my sisters' blogs. And now I feel great pressure to update my own blog. I've already crossed the barrier of signing in. The new barrier? I have nothing to say.

How about a friendly family update?

Chris: He finally passed his PRAXIS test!!!! What does this mean? I will tell you. Chris majored in media music. Not music education. He had no plans to teach. What is his career? He is a teacher. And a good one. An award-winning teacher. But he has no certification. When he was hired, he was given 3 years to take all the classes to be a real teacher. He took the classes. He passed the classes. Then he took the test. Then he retook the test. Then he retook it again. And one more time. He called last week to find out when the next one was and was told that they changed the cut-off for what score he needs to pass. He passed a while ago! He is now a teacher. A real one!

Megan: I have a lot of goals and a lot of plans and a lot that has to be done. But life keeps interrupting me. Like vacations (both us leaving and people coming to visit), summer, and a general lack of bedtime resulting in tiredness. But I am succeeding at other things like um, facebook. :)

Ammon: He spends most of time reading "Encyclopedia Brown" books and riding his bike. He loves Cub Scouts. He likes doing things for himself like making his own breakfast and lunch.

Sarah: She is adjusting to the idea of moving to England. She is loving her dance class. It is a Tahitian/Hawaiian class and they WORK OUT!!! She is so exhausted afterward, but she is enjoying it and I think she's pretty good. Plus, she's just plain pretty.

Nathan: Oh, Nathan. I don't say that nearly so often anymore. He is hilarious and keeps us laughing. He is so sweet and his little face is irresistible.

Bethie: Sweet Beth. She is so polite. She loves to sing. She is attempting to be potty trained. It's not going well. But she is happy almost all the time and she is the best eater in the house.

Our Engagement

As loyal followers of my blog, you will remember that this year I am marking the 10-year anniversaries of significant events in my life and relationship with Chris. Well, I am so out of it that I completely forgot to post about the engagement episode. Here it is.

Chris claims that he knew he would marry me the first time he saw me (that was around March 6). I knew with full confidence about halfway through our second date (that was around May 20). We started to discuss our future early in our relationship--within the first two weeks. We knew of course that only fools rush in. But timing is relevant. We waited FOREVER to get engaged--4 1/2 weeks! Chris thought it was a good idea to get married in June of 2000. I thought it was a better idea to get married in August of 1999. I won.

On Father's Day (Sunday, June 20, 1999), we drove together to my parents' to wish my dad a happy day. Chris was planning to ask Dad for my hand in marriage that night. The whole drive, he rehearsed what he would say. He was a little nervous about Dad's potential reaction. He role played (with himself) questions he thought my dad might ask and how he (Chris) would respond to the questions. For example, "He's going to ask me, 'How do you plan to support my daughter?' and I will say..." At this point I'd interrupt: "My dad won't ask that." So Chris would come up with another question Dad might ask. And again I'd interrupt: "My dad won't ask that either."

We had a lovely dinner. (I assume. I really don't remember.) Afterwards we were in the family room chatting. Chris asked my mom to come in the room. Brynn was there, too. Perhaps Michael was. This is the Rawlins family for you. It's all a family affair. Chris began to tell my dad how much he loved me. He was really very sweet and said some nice things. He even cried. Chris thinks it is humiliating that he cries when he feels things deeply. I think it is most endearing. Finally, at the end of his speech, he looked at my dad and said, "I guess what I'm doing is asking for your blessing." Dad responded, "Well, you've got it."

And that is what my dad would say. He's not going to ask a bunch of questions.

Well, some people would consider themselves engaged at this point. But I didn't. Afterall, he hadn't asked me yet. I did start planning a few things. We set a date. I called the temple and found out it would be closed for cleaning. We live in Utah. There are other temples. But this was a huge disappointment for me. When I was little, my mom would bake bread in the mornings and we would sell it door-to-door. We did this to earn money for the temple budget. When the Jordan River temple was being built, we would observe its progress every week when we went to the library. At the time it was completed, we could see it from our front porch. I had to stand on the milk box to see it, but there it was. (Since that time they've built a lot of houses and the trees have grown to maturity which blocks our view...but we know it's there.) I love the Jordan River temple. I had always planned to be married there. This might sound silly, but I thought it would be cool if the temple, wedding luncheon, and reception, as well as my parents' house were all technically within walking distance of each other. Think of the environmental responsibility that demonstrates! But that's okay. I reserved our wedding date in the Mount Timpanogos temple, which is also quite lovely. Personally I think the Timpanogos grounds provide better photo opportunities than the Jordan River. And inside, it's the same ceremony.

That was a little side trip.

I had a couple other disappointments the two days after Father's Day. On Monday night, we shopped for wedding rings. I hate shopping. It was high pressure and low success. I came home agitated. On Tuesday, I had some free time. I decided to go shopping for a wedding dress wondering if this would cheer me up. If you know me, you will know how stupid it is for me to think that shopping would cheer me. But I found a dress in less than an hour. It was only $100. (You have to know me really well to know how important it was that every aspect of my wedding was incredibly inexpensive.) So, by Tuesday evening, I was feeling a bit cheerier. But I was so tired and emotionally drained.

Chris came over after work on Tuesday, June 22. He suggested we go up the canyon. I said I was tired. I said I was exhausted. I said I was emotionally drained. I said, "Can't we just rent a movie and stay home?" How clueless can a person be? Couldn't I see that perhaps he had planned to propose? He had just asked my dad's permission. We had been ring shopping. I love to go up the canyon. I usually don't need an excuse. But whatever. That's the weirdest part of the story.

We ended up at Brick Oven for dinner. Delicious pizza and homemade root beer. It's still a favorite spot for our family. And now they've got that awesome balloon guy. While we waited for our pizza, we played one of those little "test your reflexes" games. Also called "hitting each others' hands." All of a sudden, Chris grabbed my hands across the table. He said, "Megan, will you marry me?" I said, "Are you serious?" He said, "Wait." He grabbed a ring he had hooked on a caribiner on his belt loop. Then he put the ring on my finger and said, "Megan, will you marry me?" I said, "Yes."

The ring was not the ring I wear now. It was a handcarved wooden ring--engraved with hibiscus (Hawaii's state flower). I thought it was beautiful. Chris had ordered it when we had only been dating for two weeks. People had some strange reactions when I showed them my ring. Many said, "A wooden ring? He is perfect for you." Others said, "A wooden ring? And you said yes?" Neal's reaction was my favorite. He said, "And is he planning to someday get you a proper metal ring?" The answer is yes. I wore my wooden ring until our wedding. Then I wore my proper metal one on my left hand and my favorite wooden one on my right hand until it broke. I still have it, but can't wear it because it is broken. For future reference, metal lasts longer than wood.

Again, I apologize for my long-windedness. The end.

Happy Father's Day!

I am planning to write a lengthy explanation of why my dad is a great dad. But I don't have time tonight and I am going out of town in the morning. So, this blentry is a little personal reminder to do that next week.

I will say this: I have often made choices based on the fact that I don't want to disappoint my dad. I count it as among the greatest blessings in my life that I have a dad I worth not disappointing.

And I would also write a lengthy explanation of why my sweet husband is a great dad. But I don't have time...

I will say this: Nothing makes me happier than watching Chris enjoy being with the kids. They so love him and love his attention. He spent a lot of this weekend playing with them and they have been in heaven.

Well, we're off to Yellowstone. Here's hoping this year is the one we meet a wolf. From a safe distance.

Our First Date

Well, during my time not blogging, Chris and I passed the 10th annivesary of our first date. I think we should reminisce about that now.

As you will recall, if you have been reading and retaining all my blentries for many months, Chris and I met in March of 1999. He did not call me for some time. Even though he claims he knew he was going to marry me. Our mutual friend, Scott, had asked my permission to give Chris my number. So I knew he had a level of interest. Well, one fine day in May, I finally got a phone call from Chris Woods. He thought I might not remember him. I did. And I couldn't stop smiling about it. He asked me out for a group date for that Friday. May 21, 1999.

He picked me up in his roommate's car because he didn't have one of his own. He did have a push bike. (That's what they call bicycles in Australia.) We drove back to his apartment where he and his roommates were preparing tin-foil dinners. We went with two other couples to Spanish Fork Canyon. We had a campfire and cooked our dinners and ate and then Chris pulled out his guitar. He proceeded to woo me with his voice. At that time, Chris didn't like to sing other people's music. So he only sang ones he had written. (Note to all budding musicians: Chris' musicianship has improved significantly since he started learning other people's songs, too.) But when I told him I like U2, he picked out some With or Without You.

It was so much fun. I felt so comfortable with Chris and then he held my hand on the way down the mountain. He will claim that this was my idea. Um, he may be right.

The next day, Chris called me and invited me to go out again. This second date was a little awkward. Wait, wait, let me explain. There were a bunch of girls in Chris' ward who had invited a bunch of boys in the ward to go on a group outing--not a paired-off date--for a picnic and BYU dance. Chris called the girls and asked if I could come along. I think the girls thought that was weird. It is weird, but hey! It's Chris. So I helped these strange girls prepare the picnic. Then I ate with all these people. Then the girls (who were all about 19 or 20 years old) said we should blindfold the boys and take them on long round-about drives so they wouldn't know we were going to the Wilkinson Center for a BYU dance. I was so much more mature, being 25. I thought that sounded stupid. But I was a good sport.

We had much fun dancing and we were about halfway through the evening when I knew with full confidence that Chris and I would be married. I often think I loved him before I knew him. When it's right, you just know. And I have never doubted that. From then on, it was just a matter of timing. We were dating just one week when I took Chris with me to a work party. My co-workers told me we acted like we had been together for months! (Which, in Provo-speak is VERY LONG!) We were so meant to be.

I'll get to the engagement story in a couple of weeks. Look forward to that. That is, if I remember to do it. Believe it or not, I have a photo from our first date.

And then for our 3rd date, Chris took me to see Star Wars Episode 1. I, of course, had already seen it because it had been out since May 19. (Which was 2 days before our first date. See above.) And that is the date he kissed me. (The Star Wars date. Our third date.) Chris hadn't kissed anyone for 7 1/2 years. So it was a pretty big deal. I hadn't kissed anyone for nearly 4 weeks. So, um, I shouldn't admit that.

I knew we were going to be married, but some things happened to confirm my choice. Chris gave me some of his cds that he thought I would enjoy. They were all 80s music, European, and alternative. But the thing that impressed me is that they were alphabetized! And then he told me that he hung all of his shirts facing the same direction. I mean, honestly, are we a match made in heaven? (Your line here is: Yes!)

Reverently, Quietly

Our bedtime routine includes family scripture time. Since before Ammon could talk, we have found that we can get the kids' attention and increase the reverence if we begin with a song. Obviously, we prefer church songs or hymns. Tonight, Chris was in a different sort of mood. We were supposed to be reading the scriptures on our bed. Chris grabbed his guitar and sang "I am a Child of God" to the tune of "Grease Lightning." Imagine "I am a child of God and he has sent me here (salvation, oh salvation). Has given me an earthly plan with parents kind and dear (salvation, oh salvation)." etc. And naturally, the kids decided that they should dance and jump on the bed. Here are some photos of our reverent scripture study. I hope you don't lose all respect for our family. Just remember that the Rawlins genes in me require that I disapprove.

Chris's version

This is the story as Chris remembers it:

I met you (that's me) at a baptism. I knew I was going to marry you.

Story time

Well, get comfortable. I just realized that it has been 10 years today since I met Chris. So, I thought I'd entertain everyone with a story about said meeting.

One lovely saturday in March, I got home from work wanting to go to a baptism. A girl (Marsha Mark*) in my ward was being baptized. Now, I hadn't officially met her. She technically didn't live in our ward boundaries; her "friend" (now "husband") did. She had only been to our ward twice. And I was usually playing prelude while everyone else was socializing. However, I like baptisms. I was anxious to meet her and get to know her. Plus, I was in the Relief Society presidency and felt a little obligation to go. But I didn't have a car and Carrie wasn't home. I called around in the ward, but couldn't find a ride. So, I decided to stay home and clean out the fridge instead. (Also a worthwhile activity.)

Luckily, my friend, Danielle, arranged a ride for me (and for herself). So I went to the baptism with a bunch of people. We were squished in the car and I didn't even have a seatbelt on. Oh no, I thought, my mom's not going to like this. When I turned 16, she made me promise her that I would never, never ride in a car without a seatbelt. And if I ever died without a seatbelt on, my mother would never speak to me again.

Anyway... (I can tell this is going to be a long story.) I got to the baptism and quietly found a seat by my friend whose name I can't remember. She was a really pretty Maori girl from California. Hmmm...we used to visit teach her. I worked with her. I supervised her, in fact, at the MTC. We sat in the back row. ELSA! I think her name is Elsa! I saw a few people milling around in the front preparing for the service. I saw one particularly handsome young fellah holding some music and standing near the piano. I thought, "Wow. He's good-looking. I should talk to him after the baptism." And then I laughed at myself because by that point in my life, I had sworn off ever, ever talking to a boy ever again. Too much pain.

The service started. It was lovely. There was one musical number. The boys from the BYU a capella group Vocal Point sang "In This Very Room." Eight of them sang back-up. They were all off-key. But that good-looking boy I had noticed previously sang the lead. He was on-key. (I know what you are thinking--maybe he was the one off key and everyone else was on. Give me credit for enough of a musical ear to at least know the difference.) I thought his voice was rich and beautiful. So I said to myself, "Well, there is a perfect 'in.' What an easy way to start a conversation--by complimenting his singing." And then I nearly laughed right out loud at myself. I was really done initiating conversations with boys. They're so dumb and they cause so much pain.

After the meeting, I was standing by myself eating refreshments. I'm better at eating than socializing. My friend Scott came over to chat. Scott and I were in the same ward and we also worked together at the MTC. I really liked talking to him. It turns out, Scott was in Vocal Point. I didn't even know he could sing. We chatted along and then Chris (oh wait, he was still nameless in my story)...and then that good-looking boy came up, pointed at me, and said, "You're cool and I don't even know you." I took the opportunity to compliment his singing. We began to chat casually. And I noticed out of the corner of my eye Scott looking back and forth at us and then slowly backing away.

Chris and I chatted for a while. And then he left. He didn't get my phone number. That was weird, I thought. I went home. At the next Relief Society presidency meeting, my friends asked me, "Who was that guy at the baptism?" I said his name was Chris and he didn't get my phone number. They couldn't believe it. One of them said, "You could actually see the sparks flying between the two of you." I was embarrassed, but I couldn't stop smiling.

The next Saturday, I came home to find a very weird message on my phone. It was my friend Scott laughing his head off and asking me to call back. I talked to him the next day at church. He said, "Remember my friend Chris?" I tried to casually say that I did, but instead I got a big cheesy grin on my face and I probably turned bright red. Scott asked permission to give Chris my phone number. Now I had expectations.

Time passed. Chris didn't call. I didn't see Scott for a long time. One day in mid-May, I ran into Scott at the MTC. We talked for a while. I kept wanting to ask him if his friend Chris would ever call me. But I didn't want to appear interested. That would ruin the aloof demeanor that was so important to me in a dating relationship. "Always keep 'em guessing"--that was my motto.

It wasn't too much later that Chris FINALLY called! It was maybe May 18 when he called. He asked me out for the next Friday. I remember the date because the next day, May 19, was the day Star Wars Episode I came out. I went to a showing with my family. I told them I had a date that weekend. My mom said I must really like this guy because I never told her when I had a date. I didn't know I didn't tell my mom everything. But most boys weren't worth talking about. My sister Brynn asked, "Is this that guy from the baptism?" I said, "I told you about that?!" That was evidence to me that Chris must have made an impression on me.

Well, why don't you wait until May and I'll tell you the rest of the story.

*You may have heard of Marsha Mark (now Marsha Mark Baird). She ran track in the Sydney and Athens Olympics. She ran for Trinidad and Tobago. Um, maybe you haven't heard of her. But I have. And now I can call her my friend.