Some time last year I began following a website/blog called The Pioneer Woman. I started reading the story of how she met and married her husband, I made some of her recipes (she has pictures of every single step!), and I fell in love with her photos of life on a ranch. Last night I tricked my friend Angie into going to The King's English Book Shop in Salt Lake City to attend a book signing for The Pioneer Woman's (Ree Drummond) new cookbook. I figured she had other fans, but I had no idea that hundreds (HUNDREDS) of women would be there jockeying for position to see Ree and get her signature. (She is skinny in real life. Especially for someone who uses a lot of butter. My hero.) Like an idiot I brought my child. (In the end it was a good move because Bridget got us moved up in the line for looking so pathetic.)
It was more of a pleasure to spend some quality line time with Angie and read childrens' books
with Bridget at a small table in the back of the store than it was to spend five seconds with Ree. I got wondering why The Pioneer Woman would inspire so much hubbub. I've decided it's because she is so open about her life. With all her distinct style and talent, she still has laundry and dishes piling up. Sometimes her dogs poop in the house. It's refreshing that she doesn't hold back. It's even more refreshing that she seems to have herself figured out. I'd like to have myself figured out. I'd also like to be more open, but something is still holding me back from that. Hmmmm.
I like that I'm friends with Angie. We worked together in the Missionary Department for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. (That's right, I wrote the whole name. I checked my site meter the other day and noticed that I don't know anyone who lives in Sunnyvale, California, or Costa Rica, and yet they're reading my blog. My name is Nicole and I'm a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. It's nice to meet you.) Angie and I were secretaries for the In-field Representatives in the Missionary Department - they're the guys the mission presidents call when they have a problem.
Before Angie came to work, I was friends with mostly senior citizens at my job. Lucille (or "Lusill" as it's said here in Utah) used to get a muffin with me every morning until her knees got too bad to walk. Lynn was on a mission in the Missionary Department (talk about a disappointing call, eh?) and she road the bus with me every day. The summer before we got new buses, Lynn and I used to sweat it out in the "accordion" bus. For real - it was 115 degrees in there one day. That bus used to break down regularly and once it broke down at the point of the mountain right next to an exit. Everyone sat there in silence (all commuters on these buses - rarely crazy people). I called Brian to come get me at that exit and then I wasn't sure if it was okay for me to get off the bus - it was so quiet and no one else seemed to be contemplating exiting. I leaned over to Lynn and asked if it was okay for me to get off the bus. "They don't own you!" she replied. Indeed.
Angie and I are much closer in age and we share the same sense of humor. Very often we'd email each other like we were passing notes between desks. Sometimes I'd laugh so hard I couldn't speak. Even after I moved to a different section of the Missionary Department, Angie and I still ate lunch together regularly. As you can imagine, we probably know way too much about each other.
Bridget was born on a Sunday. The next morning I came to work and said I was quitting as of that day. (My wonderful bosses knew our situation and still gave me a promotion. Those same men wished me well when I left to be a full-time mom with one days notice.) I was very happy at my job. I loved the predictability of some of the people there - one of the guys used to sing the same two lines of the song "Come Let Us Anew" every single time he came out to get a fax. That same guy used to ask me which bus I took to get there. Every day. One of the other secretaries used to pretend to come over to say hello when she was secretly looking for food. There were others whose unpredictability was just as comforting. When I found a mouse in an overhead cabinet (we were eye to eye for a brief moment - I think we both screamed) one day, I alerted our supply lady. Her advice to me was to "find it and kill it." Words to live by. That woman once said a prayer at the Monday devotional that lasted 17 minutes.
I saw and worked with General Authorities every day. For our social get-togethers I was often involved in a musical number or a prayer. Because of that, I got praise and once a grandpa bear hug from members of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles. For someone who was waiting, sometimes impatiently, indulging in self-doubt about my worthiness to be a mother, working in that environment was a sweet deal.
This post is too many words, so I'll conclude by thanking Angie again for being a good friend. :)
Today is our 13th wedding anniversary. On Friday we dropped Bridget off at Grandma's and went to our place for dinner. It's called The Other Place, but it's our place. We've been going there since we were engaged. We also went to a movie ("An Education") at the Broadway, which happens to be on the same street as The Other Place. It's the sort of date we used to go on every week before we had a child in our lives. Now it's a fancy night for us. Which is how we like it.
This year had all of it - better and worse, sickness and health. My Grandpa Curtis advised us when we got married that marriage is not a 50-50 proposition, it's 100-100. Husband and wife each giving 100% is what makes it work. (My brother-in-law Ben advised us, "Pants first, then your shoes.") He's right. Grandpa and Ben. I love that I'm still willing and eager to give 100% to Brian and I know I'm getting that in return.
