our story [part 7]

Read Part 6 here.  Or if you're a newcomer, you can read the whole story in the "Love Story" tab at the top.

I purposely showed up at Tim’s house 15 minutes late.  A projector was all set up in the front room, and I was surprised to realize that this movie night would consist of Tim, Tim’s roommates, and me.

Unbeknownst to me, before I had even showed up, Tim had told his roommates that they “could feel free to leave during the middle of the movie if they wanted to.”  Thus, one by one, Tim’s roommates left to go “do homework,” or some other such nonsense.

That left Tim and I sitting alone on the couch.  I found myself paying more attention to Tim than I was to the movie.  I couldn’t tell if it was only my imagination that he kept inching closer to me.  Or maybe it was me moving closer to him.  I wasn’t really sure, but somehow we ended up sitting just millimeters apart.

Suddenly I found it hard to breathe.  I wasn’t sure if I wanted this yet.  I had to do something to break the tension I was feeling inside.

“Hey look what I can do,” I said goofily.  I raised my hands up in front of the projector and started making shadow puppets on the wall.  Much to my surprise, he joined right in, and we each started forming our fingers into different animals, displayed magnificently right in front of the movie we were “watching.”

We started giggling, and he started making silly comments that kept me laughing.  I was pleasantly surprised to see this goofy side of him.  I’d seen his sarcastic, teasing side, and I’d seen his quiet, serious side, but I’d never seen this silly side.  I liked it.

Eventually the movie ended but we just kept making silly comments and giggling quietly on the couch. 

Somehow the conversation turned to music, and I asked him to show me one of his songs.

“Ok, but I have one requirement.”

“Ok,” I said.

“You have to sing with me.”

He ignored my protests and picked up his guitar in the still lowly-lit room.  Word by word, note by note he taught me one of the songs he’d written.  I sang tentatively at first, but as I grew more comfortable with the song, we each added harmonies to the verses and the chorus.

“It’s beautiful,” I said.

He smiled and said something about how he liked it even better when I was singing with him.

I looked at a clock and was shocked to realize how late it was.

“Oh, I need to go,” I said.

“Ok, but do you want to record the song with me tomorrow?”

I hesitated inside, unsure of what I wanted.  “Sure,” I said finally, smiling softly.

He walked me out to my car in the darkness and gave me a hug.

"See you tomorrow then."


Continue to Part 8.

homemade ice cream

Ok, ok...since I know you've all been just dying to hear about our ice cream-making adventure, I guess I can take just a second of my valuable time to tell you about it.

[Let's not talk about how I was spending my "valuable" time on facebook or about how nobody even asked about our ice cream-making adventures and about how now I'm totally offended.  Or about how I lie sometimes about being offended.]

Ever since we started dating, Tim has occasionally mentioned making homemade ice cream when he was a kid.  A plug here or there.  An insinuation now and then.

Finally, after more than a year and a half, I decided it was time to talk about the white elephant in the room.

"Do you want to make homemade ice cream?" I said.

"I thought you'd never ask," he said.

Actually I don't think it went down like that at all, so apparently I just feel like Pinnochio tonight.

But we did decide to make homemade ice cream, mostly as a result of Tim's fond memories of the stuff from when he was a kid.

I googled homemade ice cream in a bag [since apparently it's the cool way to make it], and clicked on the very first link, having absolute faith in the quote by Winston Churchill that "the first things in life are always the best."

No, he didn't actually say that.

But what I'm really trying to say through all my nonsensical ramblings is that the first things in life are not always the best and that the first recipe lied to us.

It said it would take five minutes of shaking.  It actually took about 25, plus some extra time in the freezer.

Since it became apparent after the first five minutes that it wasn't going to become solid any time soon, we decided to take our beloved ice cream for a walk.  In that little man-bag.

A trampoline would have been our method of choice, but as we live in an apartment, it seemed too difficult a feat.  So off we went.

I tried to explain to Tim that skipping was the only way to properly shake up the ice cream...

...but then I just ended up looking like a freak.

Consequently, Tim had to show me how you're really supposed to do it:

Sorry the video is sideways.  I'm feeling far too lazy to figure out how to change it.

I guess I should have trusted TMIC [The Master of Ice Cream] from the very beginning.

"Sometimes you just have to learn from trial and error.  Unless you're Chuck Norris." -Abraham Lincoln

In conclusion, the ice cream turned out really good.  One hour, 26 minutes, and 17 seconds later.

I think the lengthy preparation time might have had something to do with the fact that we didn't have near enough ice.

Therefore, the moral of the story: If you decide to make homemade ice cream in a bag, make sure you have enough ice.

On the other hand, don't worry about the moral if you want to have an adventure.

into the void

Sometimes I feel inspired to write.  Words pop into my head and it takes a considerable amount of intellectual restraint to not stop whatever [likely more productive thing] I'm doing and just write instead.  Write until I have nothing left to say and have no more words bouncing around in this little brain of mine.

But...I just haven't felt that way lately.

I still have words popping into my head.  But I just haven't felt a great need to share them.  Which is liberating in some ways and restricting in others.

But tonight, I just wanted to share a couple of thoughts.

The first is that being without my husband - even for a few days - was really hard.  Tim is working six days a week this summer, with little-to-no time off, which meant that if I wanted to go visit my family, I'd have to go without him.  And although I knew I'd miss him, I didn't realize quite how keenly I'd feel it.  I barely slept and I talked about him approximately 98.67% of the time.  And seeing him again brought an unexpected flow of tears.  It makes me abundantly grateful that Tim is not serving in the military.  I'd be a mess.

But I did get to spend time with my beloved family [and dog] and go hiking with my dad:

That was nice.

And the second thing is that pink-eye is not as bad as everyone makes it sound.  Sure, it means that I have to wear glasses instead of contacts.

Sure, it means that my eye occasionally burns like crazy.  And sure, it means that it always looks like I'm crying.

But those things really aren't that bad.  For one thing, Tim actually likes my nerdy glasses.  And for another thing, the constant tearfulness simply means that I get to play the sympathy card - and often.  And for another thing, it meant that Tim and I got to make homemade ice cream for FHE last night.

Ok, maybe that last one wasn't a direct cause-and-effect.  But we did make homemade ice cream, and it did make my eye feel better.  [It's probably a scientifically-proven method somewhere.]  I'll have to tell you about that adventure sometime.

But for now, that's all I really want to say.

Kthxloveyoubye.

p.s.  My blog is undergoing some major construction.  Eventually it will look flawless.  And by eventually, I mean maybe never.  Please have some patience with me in the meantime :)

our story [part 6]

Read Part 5 here.

Very rarely in my lifetime has Heavenly Father given me very direct answers to prayers.  In fact, even when I was trying to figure out whether or not I should marry Tim, my answer was, “You need to make that choice for yourself,” which is usually the answer I’m given.

His answer about dating again, however, was a very different situation.

I went to church on an empty stomach and a prayerful heart.  I’m not sure my prayers have ever been more sincere.  I was not just praying for me this time.  After all, my heart was not the only one on the line here.

Throughout the three hours of church, I still didn’t feel any closer to an answer.  I knew Heavenly Father was listening, but I just didn’t know what His answer was.  After church, I went to get “set apart” for a “calling” I had just been given.  [If you’re not of my faith, that basically means that you’re given some kind of an assignment in our church, and that they ordain you from God in a blessing to do the things associated with that assignment.]

No one in our bishopric knew what my situation was.  I’m not sure anyone in our congregation knew about it.  Which is why what they said in the blessing came as quite a shock.  I was told very specifically that I needed to start dating “righteous priesthood holders” and that I would be blessed for my obedience.  And as if that wasn’t shocking enough, Tim’s face flashed through my mind at that very instant.

When the blessing was done, I didn’t know what to think.  I walked out to my car and put my head against the hot steering wheel for who-knows-how-long trying to absorb what I had just been told.

Was that the answer to my prayer? I wondered.  Then, just as quickly, I knew it had been.  It was far too direct and too shocking to be anything else.

I drove home in somewhat of a daze.  Questions I didn’t know how to answer plagued my mind.

Out of habit, I checked my email soon after I got home.  There in my inbox was a message from Tim asking if I wanted to come over for a movie night at his house.  The butterflies in my stomach told me I wanted to go – to see him.

And suddenly I knew that someone was going to get hurt.  I didn’t know who.  But inevitably someone would. 


Continue on to Part 7.

the dilly bird, ducks, and a date

As Tim called me yesterday on the way home from work, he said, "I have something planned for date night, but it's really simple.  Sorry!"

And I just laughed, because simple or not, the things Tim plans are always fun.

Our first stop was Dilly's Deli.  We had an awesome coupon, and well, we just love that place.  And we have good memories there, since that is what we ate when we got engaged.

I always - and I do mean always - get the Dilly Bird.  It has sprouts, avocado, and turkey on amazing white bread.  Which is funny, because when I was little I hated sprouts and avocados.  [Thank goodness tastes change and I can now appreciate green, slimy vegetables.]

Next we headed over to the lake by the Mesa Public Library so we could feed the ducks!  Tim came prepared with bread, and we had so much fun watching the ducks tackle each other to fight over the bread.

It was also fun watching Tim try to coax the geese into taking the bread from his hand.  Which never worked. [But he got close.]

Once all of our bread was gone, we just hugged and gazed out over the lights reflecting off the water for a few minutes.  It was all very romantic.

Thankfully, right next to the lake, there was also a playground.  Which included a swingset.  And a junglegym.  [We don't need children to have an excuse to go to the playground again.  Maturity-level wise, we fit right in.]

And for your viewing pleasure, a video of me saying "babe" a disproportionate amount of times:

And then we Redboxed the new Muppet movie [see what I mean about the maturity-level thing?] and cuddled on the couch whilst gorging ourselves with popcorn.

It was a pretty amazing date for being so "simple."  But mostly I just love being with him.

the eensy weensy spider

Remember how Tim and I hate spiders?

If you don't, check out this post, where we made our Christmas tree buying decisions based on the abhorrent little creatures.

Anyway, last night we were lying in bed.

Tim was asleep.

I was reading.

I saw something moving out of the corner of my eye.  I looked over to see where the movement was coming from and saw the eensiest little spider I ever did see crawling up my husband's back.

Regardless of a spider's size, they are NOT welcome in my bed.  [Or really anywhere else, for that matter.]

So I did the only reasonable thing and screamed.  Loudly.  Naturally, this woke Tim up.  Expecting an intruder, he threw the covers back, and in the process, accidentally punched me in the head.  Then he did another uncharacteristic thing in his half-asleep, half-awake state and killed the spider with his bare finger, smushing it into our off-white sheets.

There was a moment of confused silence where Tim and I both tried to make sense of what had just happened.

Then we both burst out laughing.

And naturally, I used the fact that he'd accidentally punched my head as leverage so he would scratch my back.

Then as Tim finally started drifting off to sleep again, he mumbled several times, "I'll spray the house for bugs tomorrow.  I'll spray the house for bugs tomorrow."

And I'm gonna hold him to it.

our story [part 5]

Read Part 4 here.

The next night, Tim and his roommates were hosting an Open Mic Night at their house, so my roommates and I all carpooled over there together.  

I had gotten another letter today, but for some reason, instead of feeling happy about it, I just felt depressed. 

When we got to their house, it was already teeming with people, so I tried to just push aside my confusing feelings and have a good time.  I noticed immediately that Tim looked really good in an untucked white collared shirt and tattered jeans.  Where did that thought come from? I thought.  

Tim was busy recording the whole thing, so I talked to Katie for a little while.  But when Katie got up to sing, I sat by myself and sunk deeper into my inexplicable depression.  When she was done singing, she told me that Meghan and Chantal (our other roommates) had been encouraging her to date Tim.  My heart sunk even further.

Suddenly I knew where all of these confusing feelings were stemming from.

I was starting to like Tim.  And I didn’t even want to.

Immediately I realized it was futile to pretend to be bubbly and happy any longer.  I just sat on the couch and decided instead to work on pretending that I wasn’t sad.  While still untrue, it seemed far more attainable a goal.

Tim’s band got up to play towards the end of the night, and I mostly tried to avoid looking at him.  He looked too good playing his guitar and singing in his tattered blue jeans.  I briefly considered attempting to hate him, but as soon as they were done playing, he set down his guitar and made his way over to the couch where I was sitting.  He turned his undivided attention to me and started teasing me about something.  Hating Tim became the last thing on my mind as suddenly I felt happier than I had in hours.

When I got home that night, I knew that I could no longer put my inklings about dating again on the backburner.  I had to know for sure if dating again was what the God wanted me to do, so I decided to fast about it on Sunday, completely confident that Heavenly Father would let me know one way or the other.



Continue on to Part 6.

our story [part 4]

Read Part 3 here.

Intermittently, Tim would send me quirky emails that made me laugh, including one jib-jab video of the two of us dancing disco-style and one random email about how he might have to join OPA (Otter Pops Anonymous) because he’d been eating so many of them lately.  I remember the jib-jab video especially because he sent it to me on a night in which I desperately needed a good laugh.

In the middle of all of this, I would still get the occasional inkling that I should start dating again.  They were coming more often and were getting harder to ignore.  But to be quite honest, “dating again” and “Tim” had never intersected in my mind at this point.

Katie and I enjoyed doing quirky things sometimes, so we decided that one night, we’d host a “speed-walking contest” at the park across the street from our condo.  We emailed and texted a few people, and by the time everyone showed up at the park, we ended up just throwing a frisbee around instead.  Tim’s roommates were there, so I asked them where he was.  They said he had another party to go to, but that he might show up later.

Tim finally did show up, but not until about 11:30pm.  By this time, we were all headed to QT to get some drinks.  I was happy to see him, and gave him a quick hug as Katie and I jumped in the car with Tim and Jason.  When we got there, I walked over to the other group that had showed up at the park and started talking to them.  The group was mostly boys, and I joked and laughed with them for a few minutes outside of QT.  Tim mostly hung back and didn’t say much.

I didn’t know this at the time, but apparently he was thinking, Those boys can talk to her all they want now, but I’m gonna find a way to get her alone.

On the drive back from QT, Tim offhandedly mentioned that they were almost out of otter pops and asked if we wanted to go get some.  As it was almost midnight, Katie and Jason understandably opted out, but I thought, Why not?  I wasn’t sure if I should just leave Katie, but Tim was so enthusiastic about this otter pop run that I decided to go with him.

I hopped in his truck and immediately Tim started asking me questions.  What’s your favorite movie?  What are your hobbies?  You know, the typical first-date stuff.  It was honestly at this point that I thought for the first time, Is Timmy Devey interested in me?  

I wasn’t sure what to think or how to feel about this unexpected thought.  

So I did the only rational thing and tried to avoid thinking about it.


Continue on to Part 5.

cinco de mayo

Today you get a very special treat...a guest post from my husband!  Read, feast, and be merry!

Well hello Katie’s loyal readers. As many of you may have read, I am her charming and mature husband. Okay, okay, so I am not very charming and I choose to not be mature, but I am an expert in Mexican and Latin American culture. My background in Mexican and Latin American culture dates back many, many years ago. My first exposure to this ancient and vibrant culture was when my mom got me a piñata for my fifth birthday party (viva fiesta)! Then at age six I ate a burrito! Then at age seven I wore a sombrero!

Well now that I have established my credibility, let’s get down to the details. In honor of Cinco De Mayo, Katie and I decided to celebrate with a truly authentic Mexican evening! To start off the evening I came home from work to find my Bonita Senorita slaving away in the kitchen. She was making a dish that originated deep in the bowels of Monterey Mexico. You all know what dish I am talking about……..right? Macaroni and Cheese! Not just any old Mac and Cheese, though - this is Baked Mac and Cheese…..mmm!

After enjoying a delicioso dinner we moved on to the next phase of our Mexicano evening. I put on my sandalias (aka sandals) - tennis shoes would not satisfy the authentic nature of this giddy night!

Katie and I jumped into our Pinto and drove to get some true Mexican dessert. You may have heard of Flan, Dulce de Leche, and Choco Tacos, but these desserts have nothing on our Mexican treasure! This dessert originated deep in the hot native huts of Veracruz Mexico. That’s right…. You guessed it…. Shaved Ice! What could be more authentic then a Strawberry Daiquiri Shaved Ice with extra cream from Bahama Bucks! Now that is Mexican bliss at its finest!

Well friends, we were going to finish the night watching a movie that is known by Mexican natives both young and old. This movie is so penetrating that it is watched every Cinco De Mayo by the President of Mexico himself! That’s right Chicos y Chicas… “The Three Amigos”! As I mentioned above we were going to watch the movie, but we ended up watching a movie called “Renaissance Man.” Please forgive us for deviating from the authenticity of the night!

That concludes the details of our Cinco De Mayo adventure!

Well Hasta Por La Manzana!

*Disclaimer: This post is not meant to be offensive in any way.  Just goofy and nonsensical.  Kthxloveyoubye.*

our story [part 3]

Read Part 2 here.


The next time I remember seeing Tim was at a church fireside.  He was with his friend, Jason, and as they approached they both went in for a quick hug.  I was wearing heels, and I remember thinking, as I leaned down for Tim’s hug, how short he was.  In reality, he’s the same height as me, but with heels on, he seemed much shorter.

After some small talk, Tim asked, “Did you tell your family you met me down here?”

No, I forgot about you as soon as I left, I thought. “No, I forgot to mention it,” I said.

Tim’s roommate, Blake, interrupted with an invitation for me and my roommate, Katie, to go over to their house and play games.  After some deliberation, we accepted and soon headed over to their house.  There was quite a group of people there, and once again, apart from the occasional sarcastic comment, Tim hardly said anything.

I went over to their house a couple of times after that, and each time, Tim would stay in whatever room I was in, but keep mostly to himself.  One time, when we were watching something on tv, he came and sat on the couch next to me and started doing his homework.  He made a few sarcastic comments about the show we were watching, to which I happily replied with equally sarcastic remarks, but other than that, he stayed mostly silent.

A week or two later, Katie and I headed out to one of the service projects she was planning at Feed My Starving Children.  During the drive, she looked down at her phone at an incoming text message and informed me that Jason and Tim were going to be there.

“Oh okay,” I said, not really thinking about it too much.

Once we got there, the lead volunteer asked for two male volunteers to help carry boxes throughout the event.  Tim and Jason were strangely silent.  Eventually two men volunteered and we were told to divide ourselves into different stations.

As Tim and Jason followed Katie and me to a particular station, I realized that they’d failed to volunteer because they wanted to be at the same station as us.  In fact, Tim walked right over beside Katie and me, and once again he started making sarcastic comments and teased us the whole way through.  But he was more animated than I had ever seen him.  He’s a fun guy, I thought.

Here we are.  I am in a yellow shirt right behind the girl in the black shirt.  

Tim’s face is mostly hidden but you can see him in the very back.

Afterward, I got the distinct impression that Tim and Jason were following me around the gift shop at Feed My Starving Children.  I joked with them about a few of the items, and invited them to come to frozen yogurt with a group of us in Tempe.  They replied in the affirmative without any hesitation.

The group spent a very long time sitting at the tables outside Yogurtland.  We all talked and laughed and joked about all kinds of things, but nothing in particular.  One by one, people started going home, but once again, Tim and Jason hung around.

“I’m not even tired yet!” I said.

“Me either!” Tim said enthusiastically.  [He tells me now that he was exhausted but that he wanted to keep spending time with me.]

I suggested that the four of us go back to mine and Katie’s condo to watch Meet the Robinson’s, which I had never seen.

A few minutes after we got there, Katie headed up to our bedroom to sleep, and a few minutes after that, Jason fell asleep on the couch.  That left only Tim and I awake.

We continued laughing and joking and ate the occasional otter pop.

Tim told me that as he and Jason drove home that night, he told Jason that he was interested in me, after which Jason once again tried to discourage him by reminding him about my missionary.  He also told me that he’d really wanted to ask me out the next day, but that he’d had the distinct impression to wait for a while.  

And it’s a good thing he did.


Continue with Part 4.

masking the smell

Sometimes you randomly get really homesick and need to go visit your parents.

Sometimes you are almost as excited to see your dog as you are your family.

And sometimes your dog has gastrointestinal issues and your husband has to wear a gas mask.

Oh wait...just me?

But really.  All of that is true.  [For me, at least.  I don't know about you.]

From the very first day that we brought Casey home, he slept on my bed.  And when I go home to visit, he still does.  And it melts my heart.

But.  About once a week, Casey has some serious gastrointestinal issues.  Like so bad it's hard to breathe or even think with him in the same room.

I got used to it.  I never liked it.  But I loved him so much that I just put up with it.

Tim, on the other hand, is somewhat of a different story.  Imagine my surprise when I walked in my old bedroom to see this on Saturday night:

Ok so maybe that isn't a gas mask.  I think it's actually a paint fumes mask from my brother's airbrushing class.

But apparently it did the trick, because Tim wore that thing for quite sometime.

Such a charmer, that husband of mine.