Mr. Friend's Name

Time is a fickle thing.
(Profound statement #1)

See this picture. See that paper thing in the corner.
Each one of those links represents a day that I have left as
a single lady. I never thought I'd be typing that anytime soon.

David
(YEP!!! That's Mr. Friend's, Mr. Man's, my man's name!!)
and I have chosen October 29th to be sealed for time
and all eternity in the Idaho Falls LDS Temple.

It has been a whirlwind of planning and stressing.
And so many, many blessings.
It has seemed to be going so fast to the point that I couldn't
ever catch up. Yet, at the same time the days are so long, the time
together so short, and the event forever away.

I love this man more and more everyday.
I'm not a giddy bride. I am just so.... at peace knowing that
it is going to be him across the alter. And everyday he unknowingly
reaffirms that he will keep me safe, love me, treat me like every
woman should be treated, and help me grow.
(Profound statement #2)
The thing about Dave is that I trust him so much.
And if I can't trust him, I wouldn't be able to trust anyone.
He is just so wholesome and pure in his intent to take care of me.

I'm not trying to be too mushy.
But when I think back on everything that I've been through,
it doesn't matter because it led me to this moment where I know
that it will be okay. And probably pretty darn awesome!

I'm hecka getting married.
(And going on a cruise.) :)
(Profound statement #3)

Proposal Story

Wow! Didn't mean to leave you guys waiting that long.

I love it when Mr. Man brings me flowers. For some really odd
reason I think it is so cute to see him standing there, grinning, hold
this bouquet of reds, yellows, and oranges. (Like a good boyfriend he
knows that my artistic preferences lean towards the warm colors.)
He looks so adorable. I can't stand it.

Mr. Man is really good about giving me flowers on a regular basis.
:) I sure like him.

If you haven't read about the first date you need to.
It was simple and precisely what I needed at the time.
Our proposal story mirrors this. And I love it. Even though
I knew it was coming and he says I made it slightly difficult for him,
it is cute. And us.


He came to my door with his happy bouquet of orange roses, yellow
carnations, and red something-or-anothers. Then we went and had
dinner at some fancy steak restaurant. He likes steak. He asked me if
I wanted to go for a walk. We strolled along talking and laughing.
I knew where we were headed. :) (I even brought my camera.)

I don't remember much, but Mr. Man happens to be a nerd. He
had this prepared little speech about the number 349. Things that
happened in the year 1349, and facts about the number 349.
And all matter of factly, as we walk onto the pier where we had
our first date, he says its been 349 blessed days since we'd been here
before. And he asks me. I get so excited that I make him get up and hug me.
There might have been some kissing.

Then realizing I don't have the ring, and I push him down again to put the
ring on. :)

We have to do things right of course.

On our first date, sitting on that pier, it was so easy to talk to him as
we drank our hot cocoa and watched the sunset. I was thinking
I kind of liked this guy.


I was right.

Like My Ring?

Remember almost a year ago I had this date that I just thoroughly
enjoyed. I enjoyed it so much that I was smiling the next day when
I woke up, which never happens. (Not a morning person.)

Little less than a year later,
I am pleased to announce that Kendra Sue will be marrying
Mr. Man at the soonest possible convenience. The very man
who made her toes wiggle from the very first date.

And I L.O.V.E. him!!!

It seems like I've know him forever and I can't picture not ever
having him in my life.

It was little over a year ago that I left my
ex-husband heartbroken and thinking that it didn't matter if I every got
married again. I would be so very happy being alone. Forever.
I was bitter towards men. Bitter for the hurt that I'd had to experience.
Bitter for having hopes, dreams, wishes, thoughts smashed and destroyed by
someone that I thought loved me. Bitter for becoming a tool not a wife.
Bitter for all the promises of blissful marriage that I'd been promised that
I'd never had a glimpse of.
I was a mess. I cried all the time. And my heart was sick.

But my Heavenly Father knows me so well. I can't imagine that he could
have sent anyone better into my life. The first week moving in I met a boy
at Family Home Evening and we started talking. It seemed like I couldn't
stop talking around him. All my secrets, fears, and dirty laundry kept
coming out of my mouth and I couldn't stop it. I waved the awfullest things
I could think of about myself in front of his face and encouraged him to run away.
He didn't. I seriously think that he must be an angel because somehow
he was able to piece me all back together. Somehow Heavenly Father knew that
he could help me make sense of the messes and help me find hope in the future.
He is the most patience, caring individual there is.

And somehow he wants to marry me!
And he thinks he is getting a deal!

I know I should be worried that I haven't found a flaw yet, but
honestly I've strung this guy through the wringer. He is wonderful. He is
kind. He listens. He doesn't judge. He loves unconditionally. He makes
me smile daily. He looks at me in the most perfect way that makes me feel
like I am worth something special. He is a hoot to be around.

Wow. I'm a lucky girl.

Proposal story to come. :)

Gooooddd Morning! I need a cure.

I started the day with Julian Michaels 30 Day Shred, which I

haven't done since Tuesday because I've been so sore. My goal
is to do it 4 times next week. It rocks! I called up my man and
we went to the gym where I did 20 minutes on the bike, 5 minutes
on the stairs (I don't know why but they kill me like no other), and the
finished our workout with some abs and weights. Not too long. I was
exhausted, however. It is amazing how energized you feel after working out, which
is odd to me because I can't seem to get myself to do it when I'm tired.

Now it is close to noon and I'm trying to finish writing this so that
my title will still fit. I feel so great today and actually it has to do
with those flowers you see with my breakfast. Of course you know they
are from my Mr. Man Dude but they have a great story with them. :) hehe
Maybe tomorrow?

I am trying this no/low carb diet and I've lost a little weight.
I have a huge weakness though. I am ADDICTED to sweets. I can't
seem to leave them alone. Does anyone know the cure? Please
I need help, a story, validation....

Look at my breakfast/lunch. Beautiful, no?

(sorry for the quality, just my point and shoot today)

I wanted to share because that is the prettiest omelet I've every made.
Every time I try to make an omelet it always ends up scrambled eggs with
vegetables and cheese. But I'm on a roll today.
And I've discovered something: pour a little coffee creamer over berries.
Its delicious.

I'm going to go float the canal now.
Enjoy your Saturday!

Less Stress

Last night a total of seven little demons were killed-

six by the amazing sticky things and one by jabbing paper.
My skin feels crawly just thinking about how many more are out
there.

I am amazed at those of you who have full time jobs and are still
able to blog. I feel that this summer there has been so much unsaid
and really no consistency to this blog. I run around from place to
place. I find myself in several different locations: Canada, New York,
and Alaska; and trying to spend as much time as I can with the Mr. Man
I just don't get to write on my blog much. It makes me feel disorganized.
Heck, I've been meaning to write about New York for a month and a half
now. I have a few pictures edited, but I'm not done.

My job makes me exhausted. I have to work my own hours which is
nice in some ways, but at the same time I run around dropping kids
off, picking them up, listening to their problems, worrying about the
struggling ones, talking to moms, giving advice that I have no experience
to back up with; needless to say by the end of the day I'm pooped.
I just want to curl up with the Man, watch The Office, and eat.

I interviewed for my dream job last week: art teacher, specifically pottery.
I love pottery. Everyone should try pottery once in their life. It is a must!
But, alas, I always kersplat! on interviews. I really need to take classes.
Everyone: if you are still in college, study for interviews!
It was heartbreaking for me. I want to teach so bad and I have to wait
who knows how long to get the job that I studied four years for.
Pity party for Kendra.

I've decided that I need to relax.
I take things way too serious and get stressed out about everything.
So what if I don't work 40 hours a week? I make enough to support me.
So what if I dislike my job? Everyone else does.
So what if I'm 15 lbs overweight? My body does what it is suppose to do.
(Although, I have been working out (just a little). I tried Jullian this morning.
Not bad. My body was shaking by the end. I made a goal this week if I get
down to a number with a zero on the end I get to go by a necklace. I love jewelry.)
So what if I don't get everything done on my list? I want to have a good day
everyday.

My new attitude is to focus on the important things to me. The things that
bring me joy. In conclusion: more working out, more photography,
more time with my man, more smiles, more dropping everything and
doing things I want, more reading my scriptures, less stress and worry.

Maybe a bit more blogging, who knows?

Yay!

The War

Since my return: The war has begun.

The battlefield: my basement apartment.

The weapons: shoes, tissues, toilet, any accessible heavy object,
and those sticky things you get at Wal-mart.

The opponent: ugly, huge, crawling, icky spiders.

I have no idea what kind they are. They are huge. They are ugly.
They are fast. They are everywhere. They are loathed. They are hated.

I avoid my apartment because they dominate.
Mr. Dude Friend tells me this isn't true, but I know that they
crawl into my mouth at night and I swallow them. I am afraid to sleep.
As anyone else ever heard that?

I am deathly afraid of spiders. Along with snakes and mice, but
mostly just spiders. I always made mom get them when I was at home.
Seriously, I would yell and yell until she came and then I'd just point.

But I don't have anyone this time.
I have to woman up.
Crap.

So, this is how it plays out about three times a week:
I see a spider.
I jump and bit my lip to hold a scream.
I go in panic mode and run away a little bit.
I grab a paper towel and hold my breath.
I prepare myself to jab.
Nothing.
I prepare myself mentally to jab.
Nothing.
Okay, I talk myself through it. I make my hand move.
I move so dang slow I wonder what it wrong with the little freak,
does he want to die?
I jab and yelp. I prance around like an idiot.
And run to the toilet and throw the thing in.
Then proceed to flush three times.
They could make their way back up somehow, serious.

I can't wait until winter. They can all roll over and die.

P.S. I posted the cutest pictures of my niece over at my new
photography blog. Oh, I didn't mention that I am into photography.
It's my new interest.
Here's a peek:

New Baby

There is something really happy about a new baby.

They are so fresh and so dependent on you for help.
And I have this thing where I like to know that I am needed
or at least wanted.

But the absolute sweetest thing ever is a daddy with their
baby girl. I LOVE dads with their daughters.
I can't explain how happy it makes me, especially when the
daddy is my own brother. My brothers are exceptionally good
men. Just look how awesome my youngest brother is:
You can tell he is one heck of a man. And single.
He gives great massages and carries your luggage in airports.
But I didn't tell you that. I promised I would ease up about the
whole dating thing.

Anyho, I'm in Alaska, crazy the places I find myself; getting
to hang out with my new niece, Hailey Suzanne. (I actually
have two new nieces born on the same day, but one
happens to be adventuring in Japan.) Who is perfectly adorable, no?

Hear me ROAR

My family thinks I am a wuss.

Want to hear the reason why?

Because I don't hike. Ever.
I am the babysitter and the sandwich maker;
but I choose stay home by myself than subject myself to agony.

They happen to be these crazy, macho people who like
to hike mountains ALL THE TIME. I happen to be someone who
tries to do as little as possible with my body. I don't understand the fun
to torturing myself on purpose.
(Okay so ever other week or so I try and a new diet and exercise routine
and drag my poor dude to the gym. But that doesn't count.)

People try to tell me the view is worth it.
I can't enjoy it when I feel sweaty, sore, and can't pick
my face up from rock. What is worth it is going home and staying
clean and well fed. I am a whiner and I admit it freely.

They tell me it is the pride in conquering the mountain.
I have can't feel pride when my whole attention is
concentrated on the throbbing in my bum.
I solemnly proclaim that hiking is not my thing.

But I thought I would try it one more time when some good friends
of ours invited us to go camping and hike Table Rock.
I like camping and must admit that is the only reason they got me
to go. The food tastes awesome when you are camping.

And I LOVE s'mores. Pretty much just the melted chocolate
on graham crackers, but I got mostly marshmallow this trip. Mr. Man Friend
has to do everything overboard. No normal marshmallows
for our legendary trip.
(cute, huh?)

My Mr. Man Dude made us a scrumptious dutch oven dinner
on Friday night. That kind of thing makes me really like him.
We talked and got ready for the hike the next morning.

Saturday we got our morning off right with lots of protein:
eggs and sausage. Try it boiled in a baggy.
I was confident and feeling good about the trip.
That pride thing got to me and I had something to prove to my
mocking family. I am a Hansen. I can hike mountains. I
CHOOSE not to. And you can't mock me anymore.

This is us still happy.

My little point and shoot didn't do too bad of a job.
Probably should have photoshoped it.

Us a third the way up. I was still feeling pretty good here and
for the most part was leading the pack.

This is the point where I wanted to kill everyone and then die.
I took a picture to document the place where I quit. But I talked
myself into going another 10 ft and then another. Somehow I made
it to the top. It looks like a little hill. PSH! It lies.

It is a MONSTER. The hike is 11 miles
round trip and about did me in. I did beat Mr. Man Dude to the top.
My bragging point. Plus, I ate more trail mix than he did. I don't
know why that is relevant but somehow it makes me feel tough.

I was miserable.
I still don't understand hiking.

It took 45 minutes to stand up and get the energy for this shot.

And in true Hansen fashion the victory pose.

Genius, genius

Probably the most genius thing I've ever done
has been to put tweezers in my car.
{image}

I never notice I have a forest growing until I am in the
car, far away from my make-up bag, and most likely late
for something. But never again will my eyebrows
be uncultivated; I have now perfected the
art of plucking my eyebrows while waiting at lights, which I
do a lot of throughout the day. My "kids" even tell me when
the lights turn green. It's like a game to them.

I talk way too much about unsightly hair on this blog.

Silence

Two years ago to this date I was getting married.

....

I keep waiting to be emotional about it but I am so... happy.
It feels like it was 10 years ago. I feel like I know things that
I shouldn't know till I'm 30 or something. I feel different but stronger.

I attribute a lot of that to someone who has made my life
crazy awesome and surprises me daily with his insight and thoughtfulness.

But I've had to think about my marriage a lot lately. Something that
gets me down and makes me extremely emotional.
Honestly, the thing I wish I had the skills
to accurately describe is the silence.
I feel like I should capitalize that. It feels like a proper noun.
I want to emphasize how prominent and alive it was in our marriage.
I'd almost say it yelled.

I think the loudest silences are those that are
filled with everything that has been said
--said wrong, said thousands of times.

It happens when fighting becomes the condition rather than the
exception and the only option is a silent retreat to mutual corners.

Silence so permeable that it chokes and suffocates if one breathes
too much. And you have no idea what words could unwind everything
because words become so small and weak compared to the vast
power of silence.

The okay times (or the times that we were talking) become delicate
and I'd think about what I was going to say 4x before saying it.
The smallest slip could make everything crash down. I didn't
know when I was going to tread on a landmine.

And don't try to get away from the Silence. Getting to some
place hoping to find jumper cables--it is a foolish idea that doesn't work.

I go crazy in silences.
Some hurts I wonder if you will ever get over. And time helps, it helps
a ton, but still hurt hurts and will always be hurt.

If I hadn't know it, I wouldn't know how good right now is.

I wouldn't know how good it is to talk to someone and not even
make sense but they get you. They understand you in a way that no one
else has ever tried to understand you before. And... it is the best thing
ever and I know that it will never stop because of how right it feels.

So, yes, I remember and thinking about it isn't pleasant, but I feel
safe in knowing that I'm two years better than I was before.
And I've got years and years of talking with a man that I love;
and for sure silences are going to be a lot different.

yep

Excuses for not writing:

lots of family, sick, and a little exciting news
that I'm not ready to share. :)

And just to show you that I can dominate,
with the help of three little boys:I am crazy for him.

My Mustache and Willies

I do support the troops and all, I just get the willies every time
I get pulled over. The willies are those really awful chilly feelings you
get when you are trouble. The exchange is just awkward to me.
Parent/child relationship feel.

I had a terrible, no good, very awful day yesterday.

I was coming out from an appointment when one of my
client's mother called me; I'm an awesome listener and I may
not have been paying attention as great as I should have. I may
have pulled out a little close in front of a vehicle. It wasn't that awful
though. Really. But I do realize that I am distracted and
pull into the nearest store parking lot to finish my call.

I am a good citizen for pulling over right?

Naturally, I was surprised when I get out of my car to grab
something from the trunk and a very menacing police officer is
leaning up against my car. Whoa!! Where'd you come from?!

"Do you know what you did?" he said.

"Uh... you mean pulling out in front of that car out there? I didn't
see him, sir. I am truly sorry."

He looked really mean. It was making me nervous.
"Do you know why you did that? That is called reckless driving."

"I really didn't see him sir until I was already out in the lane..."

"You know why?" he interrupts. "Because you were on that thing,"
pointing at my offending cell phone sitting on the seat.

Man, this is going to make my mom so happy. She is always telling
me to get off my phone when I drive because I'm too distracted.
I realize denial is never going to work. I pull out the big guns: sympathy.

"Yes, sir. You are right. May I tell you why I was so distracted?"
He looked really mean. Did I mention that?

Silence.

"Can I?"

More glaring. And then a slight nod.

"Well sir, I am a PSR Worker and that happened to be a call from
one of the client with not the greatest news. I really didn't see that other
car. I realized I was far too distracted, thus while I pulled into this lot
to finish the call. I am usually quite a responsible driver."

(PSR Worker and police have to work together occasionally. I had
a friend who got out of a $80 ticket because she was able to convince
them that her driving record was really important to keep clean to be
able to transport clients. Handy knowledge in times like this.)

He asks me lots of questions: who do I work for, where was I headed, ect.
He takes my license and registration and tells me to go sit down while he
does his little laptop thing in the car. I am biting my nails. I got a ticket
not two months ago will that effect how awesome I look as a responsible
PSR/citizen?
He walks back I give him my "sorry-I-am-such-an-idiot-and-this-will-never-
happen-again" look. He tells me that I really need to watch my driving
because I have two citations from 2010. I want to tell him that that was
soooo last year; I am a reformed woman! But I don't.

A not so bad interaction and I got away with nothing but a nose bleed.
No seriously my nose started bleeding a few minutes later.

Life could have gotten a lot better, but it didn't.
I went and picked up one of my kids. A six year old who is learning
English. I am talking with him about meditation (right what six year old
is going to use meditation?) when he starts pointing and laughing at my face.
All my insecurities come out.
Did I write on myself with pen?
Do I have a big zit that needs popping?
Is my nose really that ugly?
What did I eat for lunch?

He blurts out,"You have a mustache!"
I hurry and turn around to see who of my co-workers heard.
I'm dying in my seat. I try to hurry and talk to him about making fun
of people but he is just laughing too hard. So I do the only logical thing:

I put him in time-out.
(He deserved it. He was being mean to me.)

Then run to the bathroom to check out this mustache.

Truth: I use Nair.
And we are close that I can tell you that.
I hadn't used it in a while, but honestly it wasn't that bad. No black hairs,
just a little long around the edges of my mouth.

We had a good long discussion about making fun of people.

Mister says he doesn't see the stache. But he is too sweet so
honestly can't be trusted.

You should totally follow me!

(at least watch the funny video at the end of this post)

I have a love/hate relationship with blogging. I don't keep a journal
and so a part of me likes the idea of continued blogging to keep
my thoughts organized, written down, and easier to look at and analyze
and figure out.

At the same time blogging makes me selfish. I am constantly thinking
about events in the day and whether they are worthy enough to have
a blog post about them. And how can I be more enjoyable as to attract
more followers/friends? Also, the fact that I tell people about my
life expecting them to be interested is weird and unnatural to me.

Then there is the pictures. I want to take beautiful pictures, a tribute
to my art education, to post on here. That requires time taking them,
editing them, figuring out how to get them to fit on the screen, and then
commenting on them in an interesting way. And I
have just spent a great deal of time typing, trying to get most of my grammar
mistakes out, and attempting to be clever, at least to the best of my ability.
This adds up dear friends. How do you do it with a full time job, a full time
boyfriend, and a full time church calling? Tell me!

But blogging has a great purpose as well.
The divine ability to connect individuals without having to get dressed,
set a date, and organize an activity. We just get on the internet and we are
able to help, laugh, and cheer each other on. Yay.

Honestly, I don't know what sparked all this thinking except it is
one of the days where I feel obligated to blog but have nothing interesting
to say. And to those who feel this online life is a little weird, I agree:

Envious

I am feeling a bit envious today. It all started when I tried to put
on a pair of pants and realized that although I've been trying, I
probably haven't lost a single pound in my diet. Oddly, I envy
those people who can be happy with their salads and veggies.
(I wish I was stylish enough to be a vegetarian.)
I am not happy with my veggies.

I love Mister, but we have this conflict of interest. He likes to
munch and I have no self-control. He leaves snacks hanging
around and I just happen to be in charge of making sure the quality
of food in his bachelor pad stays fresh. Not an easy task mind you, it
requires a lot of sniffing and taste testing. And the biggest problem in
our relationship: he has no ability to tell me "no."

My boyfriend also doesn't like anything good, and stylish, like
pickles and tomatoes.
I love pickles and tomatoes.

I am envious of people who are able to drink 8 glasses of water a day,
who take their 14 vitamins regularly, who are flossing, and are able to
put their hair in ponytails. Yes, mine won't grow.

Why do Mormons eat so much?

Oh I am envious of those who got ready at a decent hour today.
I just got out of the shower.

All of this stemmed from the fact that I feel guilty for drinking my
Mountain Dew and eating my Teddy Grahams after 8pm last night.
Everyone knows that you shouldn't eat after 8pm if you want to lose weight.
We did Harry Potter at the drive-in though. I love drive-ins. It is great to be
able to carry in your snacks, a pillow, a blanket, a camera, a chair, some entertaining
music, and my laptop without trying to figure out how to make it all fit in my purse.
Plus, I can get up and walk around and talk to people if I want.

Mister says I talk too loud at all the wrong times and too quiet every other time.

I convinced him once to sneak in Chinese food at the movie theater. He
spent the whole time looking over his shoulder to make sure we weren't going to
get kicked out. I ate it all. I didn't have any guilt. I am envious that he has a compass
that tells him so explicitly right from wrong. Next time maybe he'll let me sneak in
something a lot less sticky.

Oh and Harry Potter... the books are better.
I am envious of those who get such a kick out of the movies. They don't
even let you carry in your own snacks.

(The movie was pretty good.)

Wise Words

{us in Times Square on the big screen}

And now marriage advice from two people who aren't married
but think they know a lot because we are young,
but not necessarily naive:

My Mister:
"The trick to a successful marriage is not realizing what a pain
the other person is."

Me:
well... I actually didn't say anything profound, but
I laughed really hard when he said this and
I wrote about marriage here. (it was sort of more about the
wedding day, although impertinent to marriage. I'm counting it.)

I did a Napoleon

I live in Idaho. Idaho is cool. The movie Napoleon Dynamite took place in
Idaho; so it's cool, right? (I'm a little ashamed to admit that I've watched that
movie more times than I can count.) Remember the part where Kip runs over
the tupperware when he is trying to sell it. I love it for some reason.

I dropped one of my rubbermaids last night while unloading my trunk and
couldn't find it. I figured I'd get it in the morning when I could see it.
I forgot. It didn't make it.
Although I'm impressed there isn't more damage from being run over.
I recommend the brand. Found at any local Wal-mart.
(They should pay me.)

I am probably the only one that thinks this is slightly humorous.

The man and I went out to my sister's place over the weekend. She is the
first of my siblings to return back to our roots. I think we are all slightly envious.
There are goats, chickens, a pony, a pit bull, and a
few cows all running around getting along quite well. I just took a few pictures
of my niece that is so stinkin' cute its ridiculous.

Indulge me please.



She's pretty much in love with him, too.
It honestly can't be helped.









She is kind of a little rascal. Extremely hard to take pictures of because
she moves around so much. Zip, zoom. I am loving my new lens though.
If you didn't know, my new toy is the Canon 24-105mm and there is love all
around with this baby. My mister says that all I said in New York was:
"My feet hurt."
and...
"I love this lens!"

Hey sis, I'll be getting you the pictures somehow. Soon.

A Found Note

I have a whole room at my parent's dedicated to the remnants

of my divorce. I have enough nice plates to feed an army.
I have towels. I have blankets; I have one that has the Idaho Falls
Temple beautifully embroidery on it--a heirloom I suppose. I have
a scrapbook that I painstakingly put together telling myself over
and over that I wasn't wasting my time, things would
get better. When a good friend asked me what I wanted for a wedding
gift, I told him a vacuum. He got my favorite color. It sits collecting dust.
I have the cute little-ice-cream-cone-shaped bowls with matching spoons,
missing one because he dropped it, shattering it into a million pieces.
I have picture frames still filled with us, waiting for me to find them and
change their stories. I have enough food storage for two for a year.

I have far too much for being single. Just sitting there in great piles
that get tipped over and scattered as I occasionally dig to find things.

It reminds me of him.
I remember who gave us what on that day. Everything was so exciting because
it held so much promise. Items to fill a new home. Items to help a new family get
started. It is a guilty treasure trove because
none of it was meant for someone who would a year later be throwing in the
towel. But I hold onto it because it is what is left for me to start new someday.

Today, I found a note from my boyfriend about a simple thing like loving
my laugh. It made me smile and feel good about keeping stuff.
It's what got me thinking about the important things to keep around.
I have someone really great. Someone so entirely special that sometimes
I am taken back that he loves me. (I check to make sure all the time.)

And someday I hope, knock on wood, that he will be the one helping me
unpack.

The Note:

Reasons Kendra is More Amazing than She Gives Herself Credit For
#4 Your Laugh
I absolutely love it when you laugh. It's such a bright and cheery laugh. Your eyes squint a little and your tongue hits the back of your teeth and I can't help smiling when you do it. It's great. Plus, when you laugh, you smile, and wow! What a gorgeous smile it is. I won't get into that though, because I think it deserves its own list item later on.

I sure like him.

7.9.11 Letter

I remember nights driving around feeling so empty, a shell, with every
breath making me more aware how I had nothing more to draw on.
I remember trying to stop my uncontrollable crying
because there were no more tissues in the car and I was getting
snot everywhere due to my sweater's inability to hold anymore
moisture. I remember thinking of all the ways I could stop this pain.
I remember contemplating which would be the easiest.

I kept thinking that there was no one to turn to.
You thought I loved him, that I was happy.
My friends were all single and wishing they were married and in my place.
God, well God was disappointed in me. A whole bunch.
I didn't want to talk to him then. I didn't know how to listen.

I irrationally thought I couldn't go home to you; I was suppose to cleave
unto my husband. I couldn't call my friends, that would be disloyal.
I wanted to do anything but return to him; he was the only one that was
waiting though.

Hours and hours of wishing that I could talk to you.

That small apartments full of ugly words, hateful yelling, angry
looks, and high expectations was not safe. I lived there daily trying, struggling
to do what I could to make it home. Scrubbed it clean of filthy, trying to
make it appear cozy, comfortable, and happy--how I wanted others to see
us. When all along I knew that the neighbors could hear us. I knew by their
inability to look me in the eye. By the silence that echoed after all the words
were said and we were both too exhausted to yell anymore. And I knew
they were whispering behind our backs that they would give us a year.

I remember all those feelings.
But I remember also when my walls couldn't hold back the surge
any longer and one night, when I knew it was past your bed time, I called.

I was terrified.
I was afraid that you were going to be so disappointed in me,
when I've wanted nothing more then to make you proud.
I cried. I cried so hard that it was difficult for you to understand me.
I told you about our fight. Just that one. Just the one that made me go
out in the cold that night, not the others, not about how wrong and lost
I felt. I just wanted to come home. I just wanted you to hold me.
I can't fathom that you did what you did.
Listened.
You let me break.
(That was the night that a cop found me in the church parking lot and
asked if I needed help. I was pink and puffy and hiccuping because
I was crying so hard. I barely got out that
I was just talking with my mom. He left pretty fast. I think he knew I was
going to be okay, if I was talking to you.)

There were a lot more phone calls after that from a broken daughter
lost in the world of marriage.
I think about how lucky I am and was. That I had someone
like you to turn to. I know you wish that you could have protected
me from everything that happened. But you couldn't. And I'm
glad you didn't, because somehow it needed to happen.
You did everything you needed to do.

There is a big piece of my heart that will never forget your encouraging
words and your unconditional love.

I wish I could express what is making me cry right now.
I wish I could write down how awesome you are and people would see
and understand how much on a pedestal I have you. I'm not that
skilled though. So I'll just say that you helped me so much through
everything. I love talking with you. You will always be my best friend.

I love you, Mom.

Lo and Behold....

Every once in a while I feel that I am hiding my issues.
I started a blog to help me talk. And all I talk about is
light fluffy, insignificant things that make me wonder why
I have a blog.

I feel shallow sometimes when I'm thinking of things to write about.
I like focusing on the things that are making me happy now.
I like knowing that despite disappointment, judgment,
and thinking I am not the greatest example that I did the right
thing. For everyone involved. Him included.

But there is a lot of guilt that I still have to work through.
I am Kendra. I am 23 years old. I am LDS, Mormon, whatever
you call us. I believe in eternal marriage. Families Forever.
I got married in the Idaho Falls Temple on a beautiful day and...
And I am divorced.

I've wanted to explain so many times why I did what I did.
I have wanted to share the details.
I have wanted to share all the terrible instances.
I have wanted to make sure that you are all on my side, that
you understand what I did, why I did it, and agree with me that
it was the best decision. I have wanted a team of cheerleaders made up
of my blog members who validate me often.

But... I haven't wanted to point fingers.
I repeat to myself that it "Takes Two to Tango." That by pointing
fingers, I am saying that me, myself is guiltless. I know I'm not.
I've wanted to convince myself that by not talking about it on here
that I was healing and over it.

I feel so awful.

Really stupid.

I want to forget it.

I am really scared sometimes. I think of marriage and I want to
say never again. Yet, with my best friend being there for me, helping me,
caring for me, I wonder WHEN will he ever ask. I'm a yo-yo.
Scared, impatient, loving someone greatly, yet hesitant and anxious
that I really don't understand my feelings.

I find myself saying that my ex did this and my mister doesn't do
that. I find myself relieved that he is complete opposite of the man
I found myself still married to about a year ago.
Should I compare?
Is that unhealthy?
Should I be seeing someone?
Can I fix things with my own thoughts and God's help?
What if things change?
What if we fight?
What if he wakes up one day and decides that I am messed up in the head?
What if I can never stop thinking about him?

I stopped writing for a bit because I felt like such a fraud.
I want to be deep. I want to share my struggles. And I want
to be one that can help others. But looking at myself I thought
who is this girl that complains so much? I've never wanted to be
Debbie Downer. I don't want people to read this blog and see everything
that can go wrong in marriage. And I haven't wanted to dwell on it all.
It is easy to be light and fluffy.

Sometimes I just want to talk about it.

I want to repeat myself over and over.

And occasionally I find others who are going or have gone through
a similar situation and I want to shake their shoulders and ask them
are you confused too? Tell me what you think. Tell me what happened
to you. Talk to me. I want to know why.
Today is not one of my strong days. I want to shake shoulders.

Wanna Taste Heaven?

K, so I'm still new at this loading video thing. It took me a while, close to two hours,

yesterday to figure out how to load them onto youtube. So I didn't get
yesterday's video posted with Mister's description of the pizza till way after
I posted it. Just in case you care.

Probably my favorite food in New York, gave me a food orgasm: Cannolis.
I've never had a cannoli {AMAZING!!}
(not something you regularly find in the wilds of Idaho's desert)
and will probably never be the same until I
make them myself. I've found several recipes: here, here, and here.
If you have no idea what I am talking about and you have mad cooking
skills you should try them out too.
I have a feeling they won't be so good for my no-existing-but-always-attempting
diet. Here is a little of Little Italy for ya:



I asked Mister if it was romantic. He said of course, as romantic as
you can get with sore feet, loads of people, and sweating to death from
the humidity. Then would you believe that he proceeded to tell me that
he thought I was awesome? He did. At least that is how I remember it
in my cannoli-induced mind. They do happy things to you.
Especially when you are listening to a man sing Italian music in the background
as you are indulging.
Then...
the next day all you can think about is all that food-- all that fatty food--
going straight to making fatty cells to fill my fatty thighs and butt.
Cannoli hangovers are bad. Proceed with caution.
Really try and avoid those last four extra servings, okay?

Pizza Nazi and Fireworks

"No Soup for You!"

I haven't ever watch Seinfeld, but Mister was telling me
about the "Soup Nazi." I guess the characters go with Kramer
to a new soup stand that he has been raving about; its owner is
referred to as the Soup Nazi due to his temperament and insistence
on a strict manner of behavior while in line.



The Mister and I experienced our own "Pizza Nazi" in New York.
We heard rumors about this amazing Grimaldi's Pizzeria under
the Brooklyn Bridge, fabled to be the BEST pizza in New York.
Since that was how I convinced Mister to go to NY for vacation, we
decided it was worth the effort to go there. It was hilarious.
People stood in this line outside the shop while a man choose who
got to inside. There are lots of characters in NY. Mister was cracking up.

It was a two hour wait.
It was good, though. Mister was smacking my hand cuz I
kept eating "his" food.Verdict: Good, the best in New York, but according to the expert
not as good as Chicago.

Mister posing for me while I got my camera set up. Seinfeld and Blue Steel-
we are sooooo cultured its ridiculous.

We watched the sunset and ate our delicious pizza. Topped it off
with Double Chocolate Chuck Masterpiece ice cream, and held my belly
for the rest of the night worried that it would pop.






We had the genius idea that it would be spectacular to see
the fireworks from the opposite side of New York City as it light up
the skyline of NY and we wouldn't have to deal with crowds.
Mister and I stayed in Brooklyn.
It wasn't what I was expecting but still pretty awesome
to see the New York skyline from a distance.
Brooklyn had lots of fun people to talk to as well.


I love this little girl. She kept us entertained.







We couldn't see much of the fireworks, but it was beautiful
regardless.









Happy Belated July 4th!!!

We've Returned

Ever been on vacation and decided you needed a vacation

from your vacation? We made it back from NY last night.
I think we are both pretty much exhausted, but good
times were had. The only thing I can think about right now is
that I felt that I've been walking around in these all week:
{image}

Or maybe had someone pound the bottom of my poor
feet with a 2x4 about a thousand times. I missed my car.

My feet kill.
My room is a mess.
I'm behind at work.
No clean underwear anywhere in this place.
And I've got a butt-load of pictures to go through.

I slept awesome last night though.

I need a vacation.
:)

Probably THE coolest shoes!

Aren't these the coolest shoes in the whole world?
One of my little girls was wearing these Monopoly shoes and I
just had to take a picture. How cool can you get?
I want. With black tights.

We (as in my Mister and I) are leaving Ideeho tonight!
I am so siked for New York! I mean I've probably spent
about 8 hours looking up things on maps and trying to find
all the easy routes. Pain, but I am not going to get lost, dang it!
Just a few flavors on the list:

Broadway (Phantom of the Opera)
Statue of Liberty
Times Square
Chinatown
Little Italy
Brooklyn Bridge
Grimaldi's Pizzeria
(supposedly the best pizza ever, and how I was able to
convince Mister to go to New York and not Chicago)
Soho
Greenwich Village
and Art Museums galore!

And won't fireworks in New York be amazing?
I'm just a little worried about my ankle. Its been killing me
today and I've got a lot of walking a head of me.
(Crossing my fingers.)

Adios! Enjoy your Fourth!
Lots of pictures ending your way.

And just cuz...