Practicing Chivalry

Jenny's parents live in a house on the top of a cliff overlooking a bay on Bainbridge Island. To get down to the water, they have a tram that will take you down steadily in about two minutes. If the tram is out-of-order, or if it's at the bottom and you don't want to wait for it to come up to get you, you can take a neighbor's staircase down to the bulkhead.

Such was the case on Saturday afternoon. Jenny's dad was working on their boat, and we were supposed to go down to meet him so we could go pick up a crab pot we had placed a while earlier. Unfortunately, the tram was already at the bottom, and we didn't want to hang around to wait for it, so we took a neighbor's staircase. Once at the bottom, though, we realized that it was high tide, and that it would take some wading in front of the bulkhead to get over to the Black's dock since significant shrubbery and thorns blocked the way between the two properties. It didn't look that bad, but the beach in this particular area is very rocky and will easily scratch one's feet. Jenny felt confident because she had snowboots on (don't ask me why) that were supposedly water proof. I just had tennis shoes on, and wasn't fond of getting my feet cut up on rocks and dead clams, so I told her I would run back up and wait for the tram.

"No, Morgan, I can carry you," said Jenny prophetically. I then thought to myself that it was probably a waste of time to wait for the tram when I had already come all this way, so I decided I could wade barefoot, but Jenny still insisted on carrying my poor, soft feet over the sharp rocks. She started to wade through ankle deep water with an extra 200+ pounds on her back, and I thought she would give up at any moment and make me walk. But she kept trudging along without complaining until, before we realized it, we were in hip-deep water, and there was no turning back. We didn't realize the water got this deep so close to shore, but she couldn't set me down now because my cell phone was in my pocket, and would surely get ruined. Like a true soldier, Jenny continued to wade until I was safe and dry on her parent's bulkhead. Jenny, on the other hand, was soaked from the waste down, but had won even more respect from me.

Next time, we'll take the tram.

Judgment at First Sight

Like most guys, when I first saw Jenny, her attractiveness caught my eye. As I later got to know her, I found out that she had just graduated from BYU (this was back in 2008), and had just started working as an environmental consultant for a company called Oasis.

Hmmm....a very gorgeous blond that just graduated from BYU, and is still in a single's ward? There were only two possibilities to explain this conundrum: 1) She got married her freshman year, and is now divorced, or 2) She has a bad case of the crazies.

I came to find out it was neither (or at least not the first one). Jenny was simply no ordinary MRS Degree-seeking BYU student. She was (and is) something special, who isn't "tossed to and fro, and carried about with every wind of doctrine, by the sleight of men." She does what she wants and what she feels is right, and is all the better for it.

And thank goodness, because who knows where I would be if she had followed the masses of marriage culture at BYU.

PS> September 4th.....GO HUSKIES!!

Foreplay

I'm camping with my dad; sort of a last Daddy-daughter excursion before I get married. Or so that was the original plan.

I'm sitting on a boat in 90 degree weather, stuffed full of cherry pie (courtesy of Cyrus O'Leary), and a delicious Italian dinner. Yes, I am using the internet. Jimmy Buffet is playing and my dad is wearing a silk aloha shirt and white linen shorts. White? Yes. Camping? Yes.

We are plugged into the world wide web via MiFi, the newest device of ATT which basically taps into the 3G network anywhere and creates a wifi network for 5 computers. We are out at Blake Island with a bunch of friends of my family and so though my final camping trip isn't quite the quiet intimate camping experience with Dad, I am quite content. Plus, since I've been surrounded by a ton of people whose inhibitions are weakened by the not-so-occasional cocktail, conversations have been fun, abundant, and rather loud, leaving me with ample time to sink into my thoughts and dream about Morgan. So I thought I would share this fun little story:

Shortly after beginning to go to the University 3rd ward, I became good friends with a girl named Maile, who was dating Morgan. After we had been friends for 2 months or so, the two of them went their separate ways (phew). Maile knew that Morgan was getting pretty serious about buying a home so she gave him my number so I could put him in touch with my mom - the all-star realtor of Bainbridge Island and definitely the go-to person for ANY real estate question. I distinctly remember being out shopping the first time Morgan called me. To be honest, I don't at all remember what was said, but I do remember completely freezing in one corner of the store (Urban Outfitters) for about 10 minutes as his question flowed effortlessly into conversation and laughter. The realization that I was flirting with Maile's ex and was entirely too happy/comfortable with it made me flush with embarrassment and quickly hang up the phone.

That conversation began a series of phone calls that lasted way past Morgan's bed time. Nowadays, since he has me hooked, Morgan tries to be in bed by 9, but let me tell you, back in those glory times, I had him on the phone past midnight almost every night - and this was before we had ever even 'hung out.'

As I lounge on the boat watching the sun go down, Boston is playing the song "Foreplay" which I think is perfectly fitting for this blog.

GOSH get your mind out of the gutter.

But really, that flirty stage before you decide to go official - I suppose it is a type of foreplay, one I liked enough to decide to take the plunge!

Get married that is.

Dinner disaster

In a previous post I explained the video Morgan and Cecile put together for our bridal shower in which Morgan answered a variety of questions. One of the questions asked: "What was the worst meal Jenny ever made for you?" To which he responded he couldn't think of any bad meal but if he had to say something it was probably something vegan. Well, thanks to tonight's creative outburst, I now know what his answer would be.

So I don't know what's wrong with me, but somewhere between new supplements (magnesium and chromium for sugar cravings), a desperate attempt to diet, and strong advice to avoid wheat, dairy, sugar and red meat for clearer skin, my cravings and energy levels have gone somewhat awry. Now I'm not the best at following a strict diet, and though I have lessened my intake of those suggested vices, I have definitely not expelled sugar and wheat; cookies are a permanent part of me and I will never give them up. That being said, I have definitely been a lot better, but as is the case any time you reduce your calorie intake and deny yourself certain foods, my cravings have been less than ordinary.

This afternoon, Morgan came home to find me asleep in his bed - I was supposed to be running. Apparently, a sudden onset of exhaustion flooded over me as I was changing into my workout clothes, and my quick nap seemed a much better use of energy than running. At any rate, upon waking me up I realized my hunger had reached this sort of sickening low, and my cravings were running rampant. I offered to make dinner to make up for the embarrassing fact that I had been napping while he was working. As I approached the kitchen, thoughts of fruits, fats, breads, and beans flooded my mind as I tried to acclimate my diet with Morgan's pantry. What came next was a disaster, not for the weak in stomach:

Makes 1 serving:

1 tortillia (corn or flour depending on your ability to handle wheat and/or advice to consume it)

1/4 avocado

1.5 tbsp almond butter

1.5 tbsp strawberry preserves

a lot of turkey slices

1/2 tomato

1/4 mango - diced

On Morgan's I included... (oh I am so embarrassed to admit this) 1 tbsp mayo and 2 slices of provolone.

Roll it all up and ENJOY!

Sweet wonderful Morgan ate the whole thing, and I enjoyed mine too considering it was apparently what my body wanted at the time. For the record I would have included spinach, but men don't seem to ever have green things in their fridge outside the form of pickles and moldy cheese.

Morgan kindly told me (after some prodding) that he would prefer that I not make the creative wrap again, and I agreed. I feel like we have accomplished something here: I have officially made the first most awful meal of our life together. Oh so many more firsts to come.

"These days there's dudes getting facials..."

Morgan always quotes this song by Brad Paisley whenever I chide with him that his jeans are denim versions of sweat pants... and not just any sweat pant, but like the serious ghetto pant which could conceal a skateboard, an oozie, a few boxes of pizza, or perhaps an entire extra person. The song is called "I'm Still a Guy" and Morgan uses it to remind me that he refuses to wear anything... constraining... at all to maintain upmost manliness.

But yet, some things can change.

In an effort to make my skin radiant, youthful and unusually void of my age-defying ocasional pus-filled pore (IE acne) my mom has gifted me with a series of peels, facials, LED light treatments, eletrocuting glove thingamabobbers, and so forth. As much as the acid, the extraction and the electric shock therapy are quite the opposite of relaxing, my skin is feeling noticeably better and wonderfully shiny.

This weekend we were showered with advice, kitchen supplies and bedding at a beautiful wedding shower on Bainbridge Island. Morgan came over to the Island with his mom and me, but was obviously not invited to the shower. Since I have been frequenting Bainbride for my skin treatments, I advocated Morgan paying a visit to Vernell at Athenique for a... "dermatologist appointment"... Though skeptical at first, with a bit of encouragement, Morgan did it, he signed up for a facial, and though he is embarassed to admit it, I'm pretty sure he enjoyed it almost as much as I do... especially the extraction part - if you don't know what that is, look it up and enjoy.

During the shower, and while Morgan's pores were being exfoliated, I was out at Hilary Newbery's beautiful beachy home talking with old friends (old as in I have known them for a while... not exactly regarding their age) and getting some wonderful advice. Furthermore, we ate beet-chocolate cupcakes that were to DIE for, and I promise as soon as I get that recipe, not only will I personally bake and eat 2 dozen more, I will post the recipe on here.

I LOVED talking about Morgan, and despite the fact he joined the ranks of "dudes getting facials" I pretty much think he is quite the man - and truly a manly man, uber guy, or however else you want to say it. I get giddy telling stories about him, and I guess as the days grow shorter, I am getting more and more lost in love and am still overly, completely, and 'jubiliantly' twitterpaited.