Some people's children.

A little while ago, an old friend acquaintance said some things that really upset me. 

It was one of those comments that's usually said in the heat of the moment, or behind a back...and the fact that it was so outright stung. 

The kind of comment that catches you off guard and makes you regret telling a person anything of importance in your life, for the sole reason that they now had ammunition that would hurt. 

In that moment, I started questioning different aspects of my life--wondering if everybody saw them the way that person did. 

If they thought it, everyone could be thinking it.....right? 

And then I realized that ^^^^ was wrong. 

It didn't matter what they thought, all that mattered was what I thought. 

It was my decisions, my life, my choices in question; and their opinion was just that: an opinion. 

I let one person upset me for a hot minute, and I forgot to look around at the people who weren't upsetting me. 

I was so caught up in being offended that I forgot to appreciate the nice people in my life: 

Like Wolfie bringing me a Dr. Pepper randomly. 

Or Hillary showing up with a mini migraine survival kit. 

Or Adrienne's celebratory cookie. 

Or lunch with Ashley.

Or Judy making sure I knew she had my back. 

Or my dad worrying about my headlight and taxes. 

Or my little sister going on a run with me. 

People aren't always nice--and sometimes they're really good at making you feel awful. 

But ultimately, people are really, really, really good. You just have to surround yourself with the right ones. 

Why do we do it?

For the record: I am not a runner. 

I do not run an insane number of miles a week. 

I do not sprint--or do distance. 

I don't find joy in 8 mile training runs. 

And I especially don't look forward to a nice ice-bath after a grueling race. 

With all that in the open however, I am a Ragnar addict. I look forward to the third weekend in June more than I look forward to my own birthday. 

To an outsider, it doesn't look enjoyable, at all. 

You pack 12 runners into two vans of six; each assigned a set of three "legs" varying in distance from three to 10 miles. 

You start at a ridiculous hour, run three times in just over 24 hours...all for a sticker that looks like a butterfly, a medal, and a t-shirt [though I have had friends try to buy all three of those items off me].

For some reason, those 30 hours change who you are. There's just something about those 198.3 miles that tests every possible limit you could have...and still leaves you wanting more. 

The first year I ran the Wasatch Back, I had begged my dad to let me do it. He wouldn't let me sign up by myself, so we joined my uncle's team together. 

I was runner 12 that year, which meant I got to finish the whole race for my team. My last leg was from the Park City ski resort to the Canyons resort...and I think they were the longest five miles of my life. I could hear the finish line from a mile away--literally--and felt like I was never going to get there. I turned what I hoped was the final corner, and saw my dad waiting with his camera. We ran the last stretch together, and crossed the finish line with the 10 other members of our team. I couldn't walk the next day, but even as I laid on the ground, my dad said, "I just got a team for next year." And the tradition began. 

Our second year, my little sister ran with us. I decided I wanted a harder leg...and chose runner 10. I'd heard all sorts of horror stories about "Ragnar Hill" but didn't think it was anything I couldn't handle. 

Yeah, I was wrong. Those four miles were the hardest four miles of my life. But I finished. 

Last year wasn't very eventful. We ran, we slept, we finished. But I finally found the legs I loved, and actually enjoyed my runs. 

This year, I ran the same legs I did last year. It was the 10th year of Ragnar, and there were over 1,500 teams participating. It was a madhouse, and a brutal one at that. But once again, we finished. And I'll be back next year, and the next, and every one I can after that. 

People ask all the time why we do it. Why do we find any kind of enjoyment in running at all hours of the day, climbing mountains and hills, and sleeping in parking lots? I think my dad said it best. 

"One of the reasons I love doing Ragnar is to learn more about myself. I like seeing what my limits are and pushing myself beyond what I previously believed them to be. It doesn't take many Ragnars or Lotojas to realize that we are far more capable than we first thought. There occurs a special, almost sacred time during these experiences, you know what I'm talking about. It is an intensely personal moment. It happens sometime in the middle of the long night Ragnar run, or going up Ragnar hill in the heat of the day, or maybe on a bike halfway to Jackson. You are exhausted and hurting, you want more than anything to quit, to give up and walk away. It is then that you realize that you are not a quitter; that as much as you hurt at that moment it would hurt far more to quit. This newly discovered knowledge of yourself finds a permanent home in your soul and becomes who you are. You have uncovered a part of yourself that you didn't know about before. Your limits have been pushed back and away--there are now no limites to what you can do--as you will never give up once you start something. To many, running a Ragnar is a silly, crazy, endeavor--they think it a waste of time and energy. They think that Ragnar is about running. Those who have done it know the truth. That it was somewhere on that road the we came to understand who we are and what we are capable of. Before we did it the first time, we were afraid we would fail. We worried that we would ask the hard question of ourselves and be found lacking. We are now the lucky ones--we know. We ask the hardest questions--"Am I quitter?", "Can I do this?"; and we got the answer we wanted. We are the ones who know. [This year] there was no doubt in your mind that you would finish--but you knew that there would be pain in getting there. You already knew the answer this year, you started with the knowledge. 

Such is the rest of your life. What you now know about yourself is not about running. It is about you. You now know that if you want to do it, you will do it. If you start it, you will finish it. It might hurt, but you will never quit or give up, because that just isn't who you are."

Why do I run Ragnar? Maybe because I'm crazy. Maybe because I don't have a firm concept of pain yet. But mostly because I like proving to myself that I can do it. To me, Ragnar isn't just some 200 mile, overnight relay. It's a way to remind myself what I'm capable of, and to test and expand those limits every year. It's more than just a race. It's a way to show myself who I am. And I'll be back every year I'm able to prove it over and over. 

Plus, people do crazy things to get their hands on the coveted Ragnar sticker you can only get at the finish line. 

I'll always be.

I've got an incredible Dad. Honestly, I don't know how I got so lucky. As the oldest (and probably the loudest and most high maintenance) of six kids, I'm the guinea pig child--and I'm sure it hasn't always been easy. But my Dad is a winner, and he's taught me more than I think he realizes. 

When I came home from the hospital as a newborn, my parents lived in the little brown house next to Pineview Apartments in Logan. My parents both tell a story about how he took me outside to "talk to the sun" the first day I was home. From the very beginning, my dad taught me to love the sunshine--and that hasn't changed one bit. 

When my Grandma had my aunt Maddy, I was about a year and a half old. My mom went home to help my grandma, and my dad stayed and took care of me. There's a picture of me in the hallway of our apartment with my hair ratted to high heaven in a baby bouffant, all thanks to my dad. Since I was little, my dad has taught me the importance of dressing nicely, and making sure my hair looks great. ;) 

As I've grown up, I've done multiple sports and extracurricular activities, and my dad is always supporting me in those. He was in my first ballet class in Texas when I peed my pants all over the studio floor [can't believe I'm admitting that...]. He was there when I played on my first soccer team, and he even ended up coaching it. He was there during all my dance recitals, gymnastic competitions, and every performance in between. He was in the audience when we were sworn in as judges for the Kaysville City Youth Court. He came to my lacrosse games and became the team photographer, even though the sport was completely foreign to everybody else. He came to all my award ceremonies, team banquets, and drove D-TV to the airport at 4 am my junior year. And when I wanted to run Ragnar for the first time? He got us both a spot on the team, and ran it with me. 

My dad is brilliant. He always has the answer to every question I have, and on the small chance he doesn't know, I know he'll have it shortly. He's taught me how to jump my car battery, change a tire, and detail cars and bikes like nobody else. He may tease me all day every day, but he cares more about what I'm doing, who I'm with, and where I'm going than anybody else. It used to bug me that my friends liked my parents so much, and the crushes they seem to have on my mom and dad used to drive me insane. Now though, I completely understand it. I was ridiculously lucky to be put in a family with the parents that I have. 

My dad is an incredible example. He's never afraid to try something new, or help someone out. And he's taught me more about myself than anybody or anything else. Last Father's Day we had just completed our third Ragnar Relay, and he sent me an email that taught me not only about running up that stupid hill, but also about who I was because of who he is. The email ended with this, a thought that I've used to motivate me through basically everything since then.

"...Such is the rest of your life.  What you now know about yourself is not about running. It is about YOU.  You now know that if you want to do it, you will do it.  If you start it you will finish.  It might hurt, but you will never quit or give up, because that just isn't who you are."

 Because of my dad, I know I can do anything--which is plenty of encouragement by itself. But I also know that no matter what I do, he's going to help me finish: and that means more than anything else.

As a girl, my dad has always been a huge part of my life--and he'll always be the first man I ever truly loved. He's one of my biggest heroes, and the perfect example of the kind of guy I want to marry. Someone who puts family first, and works hard. Someone who loves the gospel, and helps others without question. Someone who is supportive, and funny, and intelligent. And most of all, someone who loves me for who I am. 

Happy Father's Day, Dad. I love you. :) 

Once each year.

Sometimes, just when you don't think you can handle one more emotion being thrown in your face, life hits you like a figurative brick wall. 

I thought I finally had everything under control after moving all week, working all weekend, and finishing finals; but I hadn't really had time to process what month it was. I've never been a fan of May, it's windy, it's AP week (or finals, now), and the anticipation for summer is getting the best of everyone. 

So when I got a letter from my best friend on Friday that said, "I know your least favorite day of the year is coming up. And I want you to know that I'm thinking about you, that the Plan of Salvation is real, and families ARE forever." I was caught a little off guard. 

Then I realized what he meant. It's been three years since my Grandma passed away; three years since the hardest day of my life. 

Even though I miss her so much it hurts to breathe somedays, I've learned so much over the last three years; things I wouldn't have learned otherwise. 

The night she passed away, after I'd told my friends good night, turned off my cell phone, and my family had gone to bed, I turned to my scriptures, desperate for some kind of comfort. 

Opening to a handout in the New Testament, I turned the page to 2nd Corinthians 4:17, which reads: 

"For our light affliction  which is but for a moment, worketh for us a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory. " 

Even though I wouldn't want to go through any of that again, I know that I wouldn't be the same person without that trial. I've learned how to rely on my Heavenly Father for comfort, and how to apply the Atonement to my life. I learned how incredible my family truly is, and I think the sealing power we find in the temples is even more amazing now. I know how much it hurt to lose my grandma, and at the time, that seemed like the worst thing in the world to me--and it might have been. But I do know that that trial will be worth it in the end, when I get to see her again in the spirit world and be with her for eternity. The pain of that loss is nothing compared to the glory we'll experience after. 

In the meantime though, I'll do my best to follow her example. To love without hesitation, and serve without a second thought. To focus on others more than I focus on myself, and set goals that will help me in a celestial sense. I want to be the kind of mother she was, and the kind of relationship that she and my grandpa have. During her fight with cancer, she adopted a motto of sorts, the phrase "You can do hard things" and I'd be lying if I said I hadn't applied that in my own life. I can do hard things, and I will keep doing hard things--because I had a nearly perfect example of endurance to follow. 

I love you, Grandma. 

A touchy subject.

[DISCLAIMER: This post may be slightly pointless and not really help anybody out there--not that any of mine do, really--but I needed to talk, and that's what this blog is for. Read at your own risk, I guess?]

From the time we're little, we're taught to put ourselves in a good environment, with people that uplift and support us, and make us better people. I have been very very blessed in this respect, and I am very aware of how lucky I am. 

I have parents that support me in everything I do, whether it's another crazy hair-dye job, a confusing class schedule, or a spur of the moment trip home just to grab a snowboard. They never question me, and always make sure I'm aware that I can make decisions by myself and that they'll support me in everything I do. 

I have five younger siblings who look up to me, and make me a better person everyday. Brittany pushes me to do my best, Ryan looks to me for music suggestions, Emily asks for book recommendations, and Aubrey and Mary would follow me anywhere I ask them to go (as long as they got  Zupa's or Dum-Dums out of the deal.) 

My five roommates listen to every complaint I have about anything, and always have advice for me. They wait up for me from work, even on my crazy weekend shifts, and never fail to make me smile on a hard day. 

I have the three best boy-friends a girl could ever ask for. They change my tires, buy me ice cream, and stop by for random visits to make sure I'm doing okay. 

Add these to the many, many, many other people in my life that keep me sane, make me smile, and never cease to make me try harder, and you can guarantee that I'm a very lucky girl. 

That said, I have also been....blessed...with some people in my life that serve mainly as trials. Long story short, it's been nearly ten years since I had any kind of face-to-face communication with one set of my grandparents, and the aunts, uncles, and cousins involved on that side. Other than random, completely coincidental (or accidental, you could say) interactions, there has been nothing. Zero. Zilch. Nada. 

It's not fun to grow up without grandparents. [Don't get me wrong, my other grandparents are angels. Literally, the best people alive.] Picture this: you're nine years old, and suddenly, there's no contact with one set of grandparents. Then, you're fifteen, and you're grandma passes away. It physically hurt every day to know that I didn't have a full set of grandparents out there, and that the one grandma you did have left was gone. Then, try explaining that to a three-year-old and a five-year-old. It doesn't work. 

Thankfully, my grandpa found Jo, and the position of grandma has been filled--and I can't express how grateful I am for that. 

But, it still hurts. To know that less than five miles away from my apartment, I have a set of grandparents that haven't had contact with my family in almost a decade. This year, they will have missed more birthday's than they've made. They missed my first date, my first dance, and my first day of high school. They missed me crossing the finish line for my third Ragnar, walking across the stage for my high school graduation, and didn't hear me speak at Seminary graduation. They'll miss my wedding. My kids. And so many other milestones that I can't even begin to count. 

For a long time, I was really bitter about the situation, to the point that I was angry and mad at them for everything they missed. But now, through lots of talking it out, and tons of time spent on my knees asking for any way to be even mildly OK with the situation, I've come to terms with it. It still hurts, but I've moved on. 

So imagine my surprise today, when taking a table's order, I look up and see my aunt. The one whom I haven't spoken to since I was ten years old. After informing my manager that I needed to call my parents, PRONTO, I took their advice and said hello. 

"I don't know if you recognize me..."
"I do. You're Ashley." 

"Well, uhhh, it's been a long time. It's nice to see you!" 

"Yeah, good to see you." 

And that was that. Even as I walked away, I knew that nothing was going to change because I'd said hello. But for the first time in years, I was content that I'd done what I needed to, and there was nothing else I could have done. Because family isn't just the people who you share a gene pool with, or the people who have the same blood as you do. 

They're the people you call at 3 a.m. because you can't sleep. The ones that know you well enough to know you're not OK even though you say you are. The ones that cook your favorite meals when you come home, or have a carton of orange juice for you to take back up to school with you. The ones who spend hours fixing your car...and aren't too mad when it still doesn't work. The ones who can make you laugh when you don't even want to smile. The ones who would do anything for you, and you'd do exactly the same. 

And in those terms? My family is huge. And I'm so lucky. 

Lead me, guide me.

How's my day going so far? Well. Right now, I'm sitting in my apartment checking outside every few seconds to make sure Jon's not losing his mind. Because my window needs fixing, and he got that job thrown at him on Tuesday at approximately 8 o'clock. [Really, it was earlier. Bronson hadn't even left yet and I was having car problems. C'est la freaking vie.] Took my first physics test today, and turned in my first college English paper ever...after sending off my first round of missionary letters to Elder Kunzler, Elder Gerber, and Elder Anderson. It's been a day of firsts, let me tell you. 

Anyway. Last night during our roommate scripture study, we read 1 Nephi 4:6. 

"And I was led by the Spirit, not knowing beforehand the things which I should do." 

Reading that, I started thinking of all the things that had happened just that day that were examples of people listening to the Spirit, whether they knew it or not. 

Yesterday was long, and I was exhausted before it was even noon. I got home, made some lunch, and checked my email, where I found a message from my dad. He basically spoke directly to everything that had happened that day. 

"I realized that nothing I say will make the hurt and loneliness magically go away, but I also realize that it is nice to know that someone cares and feels for you." 

Add that to my roommates and their texts and just a million other little things that made me smile, I realized how grateful I am for parents that are in tune with the Spirit enough to know what I need to hear, even when I'm an hour away. 

I went to my A-Team class, a physics review, and then the five of us girls headed over to the library to study some more. As I was going through my notes, another email came through; this one from Bronson's mom, making sure she had my email address, that I'd still come visit, and finally making sure that I was doing okay. 

Now, none of these people knew what I'd been praying for and hoping for that day, and yet every single one of them spoke directly to a specific plea that I'd had that morning. 

My point is...we have a Heavenly Father that knows us. Individually, uniquely, and completely. 

Remember that. 

Give me a break.

In case you were wondering, finals week is just as bad as everyone says. Countless hours in the library, reading textbooks until you want to poke your eyes out, and eating very little food--if any--in between study sessions. And all of this for a test, that at most, lasts two hours. It's ridiculous, really.
But, I survived. Creative Arts? A joke of class, which means I should have expected that the final would be just as big of a joke. 20 multiple choice classes. Every single answer was A. Biology? Not even bad...besides, it didn't count on my GPA. [Which makes all my studying kind of pointless, but I was proud of my score.] JCOM wasn't bad either, and most of it was review. But it was stressful. And finally, Psychology this morning. Paige and I studied forever yesterday, and we'll find out shortly if it actually paid off.
It's been a long week. Because on top of finals, I had to work. And got my fifth flat tire of the last month. And had to say goodbye to way too many people.
So. After Paige and I got no sleep, took our last final, cleaned our apartments, said goodbye to Bronson and Jon, took my car in for new tires [Thanks Dad.:)]  and attempted to appeal her parking ticket, we decided we needed food. So we moped about until we went to lunch, and now I'm just waiting to go to work so that I can get out of here. I've never wanted to be home so bad in my whole life.
It's been a long 24 hours. And I'm ready for Christmas break.

BUT. I get to be home in less than 12 hours. And I get sushi for dinner tomorrow. We're going to the Mormon Tabernacle Choir Concert on Sunday. And it's almost Christmas. So even though life is stressful, and I should probably not talk to anyone today, I'm so grateful for what I have, for this semester up in Logan, and for the friends that I have. Friends that stay up studying with me, change my flat tires way too many times, wake me up for my final, and for friends that talk to me over Dr. Pepper and noodles, and sleep over so that I'm not alone in my apartment.


There was a shooting today in Connecticut, and 27 people--18 elementary school kids--died. So today? I'm counting my blessings that a flat tire and no sleep are my biggest trials. Hug your family a little harder, and be a little more grateful for the life that you have. Because we really have no idea what's coming next, and we are so lucky to be where we are with what we have.

Finals are over, I'm going home, and next semester shall be wonderful.
Until then? Merry Christmas from the Snitches of 102!

[Yes, we did devote a full hour of our lives to a photoshoot for this card. And yes, those are corduroy jumpers, turtlenecks, ugly sweaters, knee length tshirts, fishnets, and glitter bows. We're cute. Accept it.]

See you soon.

With No-Shave November officially over, we've been able to watch some of our friends remove their facial hair in stages....these would Max's "star-burns." I didn't get the handle-bar mustache that accompanied them the next day, but this should just serve as a pleasant reminder to all of you that not all facial hair is creepy...some of it's just plain weird. [But Max, I still adore you. :)]

I got a text on Tuesday from my mom just as I was getting out of yoga and all it said was, "Mary says this is her crying because she misses you." I called her later that day and this is about how our conversation went. 

"Hi Mar! I saw your picture."
"Ohhhh, yeah."

"Were you just so sad?" 

"You're just always gone, Ash! And I miss you. Can we have a sleepover?" 

I admire the innocence and pure love this little girl has...and I miss her more than anything else. I can't wait for Christmas Break. 

Kelsey is a winner, and she wore this lovely ensemble to the Ambassador [or Ambadassador, depending on who you ask] Christmas party. Opaque red tights, pleather red boots, a Christmas t-shirt, and a Christmas sweater, complete with jingle bells, all tied together with a tacky red bow in her hair. I absolutely adore this girl, and wouldn't ever wake up on Tuesday and Thursday mornings if it wasn't for her. Thanks, Kels. :) 

For our Relief Society activity this month, we had a steak dinner and made ornaments. We wanted to get a picture taken with all of us roommates and our ornaments, so we asked Morgan to do so...and this is what we got out of it. Four pictures of Morgan's face, and one decent picture of us snitches. We'll keep Burns around, I guess. 

Cute, aren't we? And Kelsey and I even made an ornament, and we're the least crafty of the six of us. [Yes, it may just be a clear ornament with a Wendy's coupon in it that we're going to smash like they do in a Jewish wedding ceremony as soon as we both finish our JCOM final, but don't judge us. We tried.]

And now, it's time to crackdown for finals week. So the six of us migrate to the library, and don't move for six hours. [Except for mental health breaks, where we run stairs and people watch until we have to study some more.] Which is exactly what we're about to do for the second time of many, as soon as we get our study food and pack our bags for nightly hibernation. The moral of the story is, I'm signing off until next week. [Except for the A-Team announcement tomorrow, which is giving me an ulcer the size of a small country.] Time to put the Dr. Pepper in an IV line, and stock up on Polar Ice gum, since that's the only thing that keeps me focused on the fact that I can't be snacking constantly. Yay finals week, and good luck to you kids doing the same. See ya never. :) 

A tad forgetful.

So. I missed a week. And I don't have time to catch up on everything. Just know that I am so grateful for my life in general. I have the world's most amazing family [who sends me cookies as a surprise with the rest of the stuff I forgot.] the best roommates [who are my best friends.] the greatest friends [who put up with everything I do.] a fun job [that makes me far less stressed about life.] and some of the sweetest boys in the world [who fix my tires, explode watermelons, and go grocery shopping with me.] and I couldn't be happier with where I am.
However, I am going to do a delayed post for the 18th. The 18th would have been my Grandma's 60th birthday. Even though she passed away two and a half years ago, I'm thankful for her and her example every day.

She was the best example of selfless service I've ever seen, and true Christ-like love. She put everyone else before her, and loved like no one I've ever known. And I'm grateful for that example everyday of my life. I miss her every single day, and even more so during the holidays, but I'm also grateful for the sure knowledge I have that I will see her again. And I can't wait for that day. 

Now, to today's post. 

November 20th: Today I'm grateful for a whole lot of little things that make every day easier. I'm grateful for a warm apartment, and hot water. I'm grateful for electricity, and a warm bed [that I really never want to leave] I'm grateful for cars, and for my iPod. I'm grateful for my computer, and the stereo in our apartment that will let us listen to Christmas music full blast come Friday. I'm grateful for 24-hour drive-thru's when we're too wide awake to sleep and need some ice cream. These, and a million other little things, make my life so much easier and so much more fun. And I'm grateful for that. 

Coming full circle.

Other than the fact that I'm so dead tired from last week that I can't even see straight, life is absolutely wonderful. I got to watch Kelsey and Dallin feed each other treats while the rest of my roommates were on an adventure (I'm telling you people, that right there is love. It was like a wedding reception cake eating fest on steroids. Because it was in 102. Surrounded by Halloween lights. And a homemade banana bar instead of wedding cake. They're a match made at USU.)

Saturday night was the [in]famous Howl up here, and these kiddos went all out. There's Emi the Flapper, Kyle Mafia Man, Kelsey's a 50's chick, and Taylor....he's the Sexy Saxophone man. Wearing MY leather jacket and MY leather boots. It's fine. Lauren's friends came up too, and Laur, Marley, Mckenzie, Adrienne, Lauren, Brock, Kyler and Hunter went to a corn maze while Hailee and I stayed back at the apartment and played with cats. [No folks, I'm not kidding.]

Hailee and I also had to run a couple errands for my great grandma and grandpa. My great grandpa Dave has been in the hospital for a couple weeks with multiple blood clots, and my great grandma has refused to leave him. So while they've been at the University Hospital in Salt Lake, their house has been untouched for a little while. I went to pick up their mail, check the house, and all that stuff for my aunts so that my grandma could rest a little easier, and dropped it all off at the hospital Sunday morning. Now, you have to understand how much I hate hospitals. They've always made me feel kind of anxious, and I've just never been a fan. I was a little stressed about making it to the hospital by myself, since I don't drive in Salt Lake like ever, and I'm slightly directionally challenged. But. I made it. 

I parked, grabbed the stuff, and made it all the way to the front desk without freaking out. But as I got up to the elevators, I had the strangest flashback of the last time I was at a hospital. It was the week before my grandma passed away, and we went knowing that this was the last time we'd get to see her. Getting into the elevator on Sunday, I couldn't get that out of my head. By the time I got to the 6th floor, dropped the stuff off, and was headed back down, I was in tears and shaking so bad I couldn't push the buttons for the parking elevator. I got back to my car and just cried for a minute--because I was scared. Because I miss my grandma so much it physically hurts sometimes. And I cried because I was so glad I wasn't one of the people who had lost someone and had no knowledge of what comes after this life. As I was sitting in my car, I got this message from my uncle Kip. [I hope he's okay that I screenshot-ed this, but I needed to save it.] Sometimes, its the little reminders in life that remind us that people everywhere care about us, and that our Heavenly Father is always looking out for us and knows every part of our hearts.

I'm sure Kip and Ginny don't realize how much I needed this simple reminder right at that very second--or as my grandma would call it, that tender mercy. I'm so grateful for my eternal family, for the fact that they are spiritually in-tune enough that they can help without realizing it, and for the knowledge I have that I will be able to be with them forever. Because that's the best kind of family, the forever and ever kind. 

After a busy weekend, full of parties, farewells, errands, and all sorts of stuff. It's all we can do to stay awake through the most pointless class offered at USU. Props to Jon for capturing Paige and Brianna out cold to prove to the world that David Wall can quite literally bore us all to death. Happy Monday, kids. :) 

We do what we can.

For some reason, Wednesdays are always the longest day of the week. Emi, Lauren and I have class together at 9:30, but we still have a hard time getting out of bed and motivating ourselves enough to get ready for a 50 minute lecture about creative ahhhhts. [Our professor is incredibly British. Ask Emi how she feels about the way he says "matter."] Anyway, we have unofficially declared Wednesdays "What The Heck Wednesday" or "Top-Knot Wednesdays" because of our inability to look socially acceptable that day. We forgot to take pictures of us all together, but the legging and hoodies and shorts look, all paired with a giant baseball of a top-knot does wonders for our social lives, as displayed in the following picture. [Just kidding. Emi was just using the most prime position for creeping while our door was wide open. Yay. :)]

The ASUSU had a barbecue at First Dam last night [if I hear one more "dam" joke, I will lose my mind.] And of course, we had to document it. Luke, some kid I don't know, Chris, Lauren, Emi, me and Dallin--prior to Luke and Dallin and I going on a canoe adventure. Someone took this picture in the middle of us laughing at Kelsey's attempt to photobomb....but the next one is alright. 

See, we can clean ourselves up from our WTHeck Wednesday and look socially acceptable, even if being social is a drag sometimes. 

One more thing. I have some fabulous roommates. Yesterday, they had the misfortune of being dragged in on a somewhat...awkward situation involving my grandparents, and they stuck it out right along with me. Edited a thank you letter, and helped me find some random house in the middle of Providence to drop it off. So thanks girls (and Luke and Dallin) for helping me out. That's all, really. :) 

Third time's the charm.

Life has been a tiny bit crazy lately. Between work, and attempting to find another job, and who knows what else, this little baby got sort of neglected. 

Last weekend, I ran my third Ragnar Relay--the Wasatch Back. 200ish miles of running, between 12 people, from Logan to Park City. Sounds fun, right? But really, it's a blast. However, I  would recommend training to those of you who were interested. Because it HURT. 

 This is our team, "The Cat in the Hat Bunch" at the finish line. Our shirts say "Thing [1-12]". We're cool.

My dad sent me a note after finishing, which basically put into words what had been running through my head every year we've done this.

"To many, running a Ragnar is a silly, crazy endeavor - they think it is a waste of time and energy.   We dress up in costumes and have a moving slumber party for 2 days - how stupid.  They think that Ragnar is about running.  Those who have done it know the truth.  That it was somewhere on that road that we came to understand who we are and what we are capable of.  Before we did it the first time, we were afraid we would fail.  We worried that we would ask the hard question of ourselves and be found lacking.  We are now the lucky ones - we know.  We asked the hardest questions - "Am I a quitter?", "Can I do this?"; and we got the answer that we wanted.   We are the ones who know." 

It may sound silly to get sentimental about a 200 mile relay, but it's true. Because of this race, I've been pushed to places I never thought I'd go, and gone harder and farther than I ever would have otherwise. I've climbed impossible mountains, run through terrifying--to me, at least--trails, and kept going even when it seemed like the goal would never be within reach.

I kept going, and I'm no quitter.

Really though, who can say.

Everything is winding down, but I still feel like I have way too much on my plate. Between school, work, YW, youth court, and attempting to maintain some kind of social life while keeping up with my family, I have no time for anything...while still doing everything. It's puzzling, really.
I found a dress for cotillion, (it pays to have an uncle who is dating a girl who wears the same size as you do. WINNING.) but now I've gotta find some fantastic shoes to go with it.
I'm in the home stretch for AP classes, but now I've got to finish Financial Lit. and pass Fit for Life.
Life is a whole bunch of "this, but this," statements, and it's starting to drive me crazy. Welp.

In other news, I have to teach the combined YW lesson this Sunday on the importance of temple marriage and dating for the temple. Somehow, our Heavenly Father has these odd little ways of teaching you what you need to hear by making you prepare it for others. I also have to speak at seminary graduation about how seminary has impacted my testimony of the Savior. Needless to say, I'm a stressing out a little. The second my AP stuff is done, my scriptures are going to have to become my permanent sidekick.

I guess that's another point I need to make, and I'm going to make it in public. I'm moving out in roughly 90 days..which means I have 90 days to cement in my brain the importance of good habits. Scripture study, prayer, exercise, good food...you name it. I need to work on it. I'm so glad I'll be rooming with five girls who share the same standards I do, and who have the same priorities I do. But that doesn't change the fact that I need to work on it for myself. Starting May 17th, the number one goal is building healthy habits. Maybe I'll even document it. Who knows.

All things go.

We graduate in 23 days. My cap and gown are hanging on my bedroom door, and my graduation announcements are being printed. I'm shipping for a dress for Senior Cotillion, and registered for my classes next fall. Scholarship acceptance letters have been sent in, and new leaders have been chosen for all the groups I'm in. Final banquets and awards ceremonies are happening, and orientation is starting for the new kids.


I'm freaking out.
Last weekend, there was a not-so-subtle shift in the directions my life was headed, and this week was a little shaky to say the least. But, everything happens for a reason, right? And we're all headed for bigger and better things, even of we can't see it at the moment.

With everything I've ever known coming to a close, we really are experiencing not only the beginning of the end, but the end of our beginning as well. In less than a month, we'll be out of a school system we've been in for 13 years, moving away from everyone we know, and starting fresh. I

So these last few weeks? I'm going to do what I want. How I want. When I want. Because this is the last chance we have to make a mark, and I intend to. Right now, all things go.

Underwhelming questions.

Most nights, I get in bed around 10 or 10:30....and proceed to lay there, wide awake, until midnight. I'm not doing anything productive, usually sporadically checking Instagram, Twitter, Facebook, email, and Pinterest; but if I could channel all the brain power my mind generates right then, I could pass my AP tests in the first week of school.
Last night was frustrating, stressful, and not very much fun. But! While I was laying there, quite literally nested in my seven thousand blankets and pillows, and twisting my Disney Princess blanket in my hands like there was no tomorrow (it's a nervous habit, and yes, it is Disney. Deal with it.) the conversation in my head went something like this.

"So. NOW what?"
"What do you mean, now what?"
"I mean, this is a change, a big change. It's been a long time since things were like this."
"Maybe, but change is good. Change is real good. It'll all be OK."
"But, what if...."


And I promptly fell asleep. I have a problem with that, falling asleep mid conversation. Granted, it's usually with another person and not just myself, but still.
I woke up this morning and was busy and barely breathing until 7:45 (which really is saying a lot considering I was up at the crack of dawn and had an early morning meeting.) And I got a text from a friend, one I haven't really talked to in a while.

"Hey Ashley! I just wanted to tell you to have such a fantastic day! :) You're a great girl, with such a loving, kind personality. Keep being great. :)...Keep your chin up sug :) and pass it forward. You are wonderful! :)"

Like I said, I don't talk to this friend very often, and she has no idea what's really going on. But that message? Was just what I needed. And just reiterated the fact that no matter what's happening, who's fighting with who, and what is going wrong, someone up there is ALWAYS listening, watching, and looking out for us.

And suddenly, all those overwhelming questions and problems became insignificant.
"It's days like today, when life gets great."


(ALSO. I get to see the band who penned ^^^^^^^^^^^^^ those lyrics tonight with my best friends. Life is alright, I guess....:))

Simple enough.

Three terms down, and one to go. Words cannot even begin to express how excited I am to be out of high school. But at the same time, I'm ready to just have fun these last 10 weeks of school, because they really are our last shot at doing anything memorable.


Tomorrow is the Sterling Scholar final awards ceremony. I'm nervous, but I know I did my best and whatever happens, happens.

Thursday, we play Alta in lacrosse, and I have to miss it. Not a happy camper about that, but duty calls?
Friday, my best friend and I are hosting the Mr. Dart Pageant at Davis. It's basically the biggest joke of a fundraiser in the world, but it'll be fun. And it's my first Friday off work since October, so it better be an adventure of some sort.This picture came up on my Pinterest the other day, and I just liked the idea of it. I've never been one to say "no" to risks, and this summer is really the last time we have to be reckless and immature before we hit the real world. You can bet that I'll be doing a whole bunch of stuff for the first time, and checking things off my bucket list everyday. It'll all be documented as well, don't worry.

Tangent time. There's a tumblr that I follow that's called "Boys Who." So in YW a few weeks ago, we made our own lists of "Boys Who" qualities. It got me thinking about the little things, rather than the bread-and-butter answers that we give in Sunday School. What do I really want in a boyfriend/husband/best friend?

I want a boy who will play with my hair, and give me advice on what to wear. A boy who will tease me relentlessly, and then make it up to me. I want a boy who is plenty taller than me, and has to pick me up to hug me. A boy who will make me feel better when I'm sick, and who knows my favorite foods better than I do. I want a boy who isn't afraid to show me off, and who will write me letters like "The Wednesday Letters." I want a boy who is good with kids, and who's family makes me feel like a part of theirs. A boy who will be honest with me, and will play immature games with me. I want a boy who can hold his own in an argument, and knows his material. A boy who is athletic (preferably hockey playing,) and will make me laugh. I want a boy who is intelligent, and can help me study. A boy who dresses well, and can give me advice on whatever I may need. I want a boy who will give me an honest opinion on something, and lets me come to their games. A boy who will share his jackets with me, and let me control the music in the car. I want a boy who can cook, and will listen to my mindless ramblings.

Really, all I want is someone who knows me. And who loves me.

My hero? She's the last real dreamer I know.

-----DISCLAIMER: this may be a really emotional post, and contains religious-speak.-----

Today in seminary, there was a quote on the board that said something along the lines of: you should live your life in such a way that your unborn children would have no reason to ask where you went wrong.

Then a boy, (who I happen to have a massive crush on, it's fine.) mentioned that he tried to live his life so that his grandma, who had passed away recently, would look down on him and be proud.

The more I thought about it, the more I agreed. My grandma truly was the most amazing person in the world, and everyday she inspires me to be better. Because of her example, I know what kind of mother I want to be.

Because of her, I also know how it feels to hurt like I never have before. She's been gone for almost two years now, and there's not a single day that goes by that I don't physically ache to know I don't know how long it will be until I see her again. It's hard to face everyday knowing that one of the people you loved most, and one who loved you most, isn't there to congratulate you, give you a hug, or roll their eyes at you.
She won't see me on my wedding day, or hold my babies at their blessings. She won't be there when I graduate from high school, and will never see me leave for a dance. She'll won't know my friends, or be able to tell me about when she was young. I'll won' have anyone to call "Grandma."

But because of my beliefs, I know I will see her again. I know she will know my children, and be able to hold me again like she used to.

It's hard to face everyday without her, and I don't think it will ever stop hurting. But because of her example, I know I can do it, and I know that us Bell girls are stronger than we know.

We all have our challenges.

I have a problem with social media networks. So I found a photo-a-day challenge on Pinterest, and I figured, why not.

Today's challenge? "My view today."

This is the banner for the new NBC show Smash. Not only am I excited because it has Katherine McPhee, its about Broadway and theater and basically everything else I love....but IT HAS MY NAME.

I watched a preview of it, and to put it in few words, I am so excited.

Monday can't come soon enough.

In other news, my Ambassador portfolio for Utah State is in.

Nervous? Yes. Excited? Yes.

I would love to get this one, but whatever happens, happens.

With my Sterling Scholar portfolio in, and this one now too, all I can do is wait.

And I'm not very patient.

Wish me luck!