"Regular Turkey"

This year I wound up with two turkeys to cook... this means that I get to try TWO different recipes! While I was looking up a recipe for my second turkey (which I'll cook on Sunday..., so my first turkey...?) Anyway... as I search food network.com for something delicious, Justin says "why don't you just make a regular turkey?" He said it 3 or 4 times before I asked him what a "regular turkey" was...

Regular Turkey: noun, a turkey that is just put in the oven without any seasonings and roasted for the prescribed amount of time.

NO WAY!

WHO DOES HE THINK I AM!?!

Burnt cookies

Today I burnt a batch of cookies. Not just any cookies, but mom's amazing molasses cookies. They are full of love and fall-y goodness, and I burnt them. And I was pretty upset. With all the things I can't control in my life, I really enjoy dominating in the kitchen. And the burnt cookies were really at the end of a migraine inducing long, hard, stressful day.

As I was putting the cookies on a cooling rack to prevent further burning by leaving them in the cookie sheet, the following conversation ensued:

Emily: I burnt the cookies. I hate burning cookies.
Justin: But you're good at what you do.
Emily: Somedays.... (Sigh)
Justin: Days like today.

I am really grateful for a boy who takes care of/puts up with me on my bad days. It's not all smooth waters, and I not entirely sure what's going to happen down the line, but for this season of my life I'm a pretty lucky girl to have him.

No Pressure...

In a continuance of last week's post, the following conversation ensued:

"Not to pressure you or anything, but I can only come back to the states if someone gets married or dies. Tatiana is out of the question for 18 months old, and I want to get back there before next fall. I'd rather someone didn't die."

Oh Blanca.

Have I mentioned that I really like this woman?

I do, and her son.

Sunday Blogging: Other people's expectations

I'm not sure I'll keep it up, but the feeling has hit to blog again... I think there are just a few of you who read this on a regular basis (Mom!) but I'm going to try to blog on a more regular basis, perhaps on Sunday nights...

I've been feeling stressed lately about my relationship. EXTERNALLY stressed. Quite frankly, I am pretty content with the state of my relationship. Justin and I have been dating for seven months tomorrow and we are "just" still dating. He moved in June to the town 20 miles north of here and we see each other 3-4 times a week, (I go up twice, and he comes down once or twice). It is a comfortable routine, and I still get a little giddy to see him. He is often the calm in my hectic life. And we talk about getting married, we talk about marriage and our hypothetical life together, but there just aren't solid plans.

I suppose part of the LDS culture includes the expectation of "ring by spring." At the BYU, if you've been dating for a semester, there must be a reason if there's not a ring on it!

I'm not at BYU anymore. I'm happily pursuing my masters degree in the armpit of America. (smelly and always hot, but not all together unpleasant with the appropriate treatment (deodorant for armpits, and a boyfriend for Portales!) But I digress...

I guess the "ring by spring" philosophy isn't just a Utah thing. There has been increasing external pressure about my relationship. Not from my family (you are all wonderful, thank you) but from people at church. The following are actual quotes from TODAY at stake conference:

Member of our bishopric: "How are you, Justin? It's good to see you two. How are you doing? (gesturing at the two of us)"

Member of the STAKE PRESIDENCY: "Are you engaged yet? (I show him my naked third finger) Justin, you've found her; now you just have to marry her."

And last week when I was Skyping with Justin's mom in Equador (just me):

"Emily, can you tell me anything else about the nature of your relationship? We just love you and we want you to be a part of our family, and we couldn't be happier that Justin has found you.... (insert all the nice things you could say about/to a girl your son is dating here)"

Her effusive compliments made me feel a little uncomfortable, I wish I could tell her that I love her son, but that the ball's in his court, and pushing him won't make anything move quicker. There is also a part of me that wonders if she just wants an excuse to come back to the states, which she can only do for weddings and funerals of immediate family, and since Justin's little sister is on a mission, it's up to us to get her back to the states.

And Thursday with Justin's mom (with Justin there):

"What is the nature of your relationship?" *Justin shrugs* "Justin, you know Emily's leaving in May, right?"

I don't know how to tell people that we're good where we are for now. I'm in the middle of school, yes, I would plan a wedding if it was right, but it would be so much stress. I'd rather not while I am in school. I just know that he'll do it in his own time, and when he's ready. I'm not going to rush him, and I don't think it's going to kill either of us to wait a bit.

So I suppose I am thankful that my stress is external and not internal, because I can just shrug and smile at all the questions. It's harder to shrug at oneself.

And maybe, just maybe there will be a ring by spring this year... but we'll see.

What I want the young women to know about modesty.

Today I left church angry. So very angry, because of something that had been said in our young women's lesson. As part of the lesson, we talked about modesty. One of the girls said something about if you don't dress modestly you could get raped. I loudly disagreed with that statement, and one of the other leaders said:

"I don't care what the feminists say; if you dress like that [immodestly], a bad man could get the wrong idea and you might get raped"

Call me a feminist, but what you're telling these girls is "if you dress immodestly, it's your fault if you get raped." You are scaring them into obedience, which is the worst reason to be obedient. Yes, you should dress modestly, but had there been time (we had already gone over, which is likely why the above statement was made without further discussion) here's what I wish I had could have taught the girls about why they should dress modestly:

When you dress modestly, you are showing that you respect yourself. You understand that you are not just an object, valued only for looking good, but that you have inherent worth, "you are a daughter of Heavenly Father who loves you."

When you dress modestly, and show that you respect yourself, you help ensure that other people will also treat you with the respect you show yourself.

When you are dressed modestly you are more comfortable. You don't have to be embarrassed when your bishop, or young women's leader show up in an unexpected setting. You're not constantly pulling your shirt up or tugging your shorts/skirt down.

When you dress modestly, your behavior will follow  You should dress for the kind of behavior you want to display. When you dress immodestly, it is like putting on a costume, you will behave in a way that someone who dresses immodestly would behave. Dressing modestly will likely lead to modest actions.

And yes, when you dress modestly, those who may have had inappropriate thoughts, are less likely to have them about you based on your clothing... but that's no guarantee that their thoughts will stay pure. Frankly, that's not in your control or your responsibility. Men  should be expected to be gentlemen, and not animals, unable to control themselves. Yes, you can help, but that is not your prime directive.

Bottom line. Immodesty is no excuse for rape. Be modest because you respect yourself, be modest because you love Jesus, be modest because your body is a gift, that was paid for by someone who loves you infinitely. That should be reason enough to treat it well, not because you are scared of being raped.

Words of affirmation and late night texts

My language of love is clearly words of affirmation. As much as I want you to hug me (physical touch being my secondary love language), if you just tell me you like me/appreciate me/think I'm cool/etc, I might float on air for some time.

I was just buckling down (yep at 11pm) to finish some grading I have to do for the department secretary, and my phone buzzed... This is not abnormal. I finished setting out the papers before I grabbed it. The text message was for the department head who I very much admire and just plain like. She is so, so busy and as her "personal GA" (graduate assistant), I try to keep her happy (she's kind of like our mom, and if momma ain't happy ain't nobody happy)... Mostly keeping her happy means keeping her caffeinated... I can do that!

The text said:

"Thanks for all you I for me. You are an unexpected blessing from The Lord!"

It's been a stressful week. Work started back up again and I've been mother ducking all the new GAs around. I'm also trying to get everything ready to start my practicum, when they changed requirements on us last weekend. This meant, at this busy time of the year for teachers asking them to write letters of reference with little to no notice/time. Anyway. In all the stress, it was nice to hear that I'm still helping someone. That I'm not just a complete self absorbed basket case.

The Worst Case Scenario.

Note: Don't freak out, this is purposely vague, and I'm okay, Justin and I are good. I'm just processing.

Almost two months ago, I thought about doing something. I held off. I told myself I was stressed and put it off till my hand was clearer. I told myself I would do it after school was out if I still felt like doing it.

After school was out, I took a few days, thought it over and chickened out. I mulled it over for the next week or so, and still felt like doing it. I kept talking myself out of it. I wondered, Would there be a right moment? A perfect moment? Should I hold off? Or should I just do it?

Last night, I sat for a minute and weighed the pros and cons. What was the worst case scenario? The worst thing I could come up with in the moment wasn't the worst thing in the world. It wasn't ideal, obviously, but not devastating. (Since then I have come up with many, many worst things that could have happened.)

So I did it. It was dark, just after midnight. We were in front of my steps, basking in the glow from my porch light (read that sarcastically), and I did it. I decided that given the events of yesterday- that's a story for another day- I just needed to put my big girl panties on and do it. So I did. And well, the worst case scenario -that I could come up with last night- it happened.

The moment wasn't 'perfect' but it seemed the perfect moment to me. With a quick kiss, a whispered goodnight, and a longing 'see you tomorrow,' that was that. I went inside and went to bed.

This morning I woke up not upset, not devastated. It had been as I kind of expected, and I'm glad I did it.

Glad to know myself.

I guess the point is: the worst case scenario doesn't seem so bad when you've considered it beforehand.

The darndest things...

I have spent the past semester at a local elementary school working with children in first and second grade who have various articulation (sound pronouncing) and language issues. Over the course of the semester when the kids would say crazy things, I just jotted them down on scraps of paper, which I've been collecting for the past 4 1/2 months. Today was the last day that I'll be at the school, and I decided it was a fitting day (especially because of my lack of anything else super important to do).

The "wh" questions: 
Q: What holiday was yesterday? (memorial day)
A: Burger King.

Q: Who serves in the Army? (soldiers)
A: Blacks.

Q: Why do we go to the store? (for food)
A: To get some food so you won't get dead.

Q: Why do birds build nests? (to lay eggs, it's their house)
A: So they can poop out their babies.

The following are a series of questions with the same little girl:
Q: How do you know grass is grass? (it's green, it grows...)
A: Because Jesus made it.

Q: Okay... Who writes books? (Authors)
A: Jesus.

Q: Who puts out fires?
A: Je.... Firefighters!

Categories:

Q: Name 3 things that scoop?
A: Shovel, bull dozer, killer robot

Q: Name 3 types of flowers
A: I know all the flowers... Sand Flowers, Roses, Dandelions.

Q: What group is a couch in?
A: Fur.

Q: What can you tell me about Jelly Beans?
A: They come from bunnies.

Volunteered information:

When it was my birthday I polled the kids to ask them how old they thought I was turning (27).
A: 19, 39, 23, 13, 25, 21, 27? ("No, if she was 27 she'd be taller").

When talking about his dog who just had another litter of puppies:
"she gets married to a lot of dogs"

Girl: Miss Z, do you have a boyfriend?
Me: Yes.
4 girls: Oooooh!
Girl: What's his name?
Me: His name is Justin
Girl: Is his last name Bieber?!
Other girl: You're dating Justin Beiber!?!
Me: um, no.

Girl: Do you like Justin Bieber?
Me: no.
Girl with dreamy look: He's cute!

When I asked my favorite little boy why he was sad:
"I just wanted to do math..."

Boy: "I was born in the year of the monkey. That's why I love bananas."

When playing a game:
Me: I didn't tell you that, I was trying to be sneaky.
Boy with lisp: You're a Thneaky, Thneaky girl.
Me: Are all girls sneaky?
Boy with lisp: Yeah. Most of them.

TGFPB

Last semester, my friend dlG was given a new client at theuniversity speech-language clinic where we are both working on our master’sdegree in Communicative Disorders. She is in her 3^rd year of theprogram and, according to her, has always been given difficult, behavioralclients. After reading her new client’s file, she was (rightfully) terrified oftherapy with the kid. Without violating any confidentiality rules, this kid wasscary. If the rather large/strong 9 y/o child became upset, there was a definite possibility ofharm to the clinician. To top it off, the mother of this child is highly litigious.(She sues at the drop of a hat for a diagnosis she doesn't like, she sues. Ifthe school where her child attends doesn't deal with violent behavioral issuesas she deems appropriate, she sues.) The instructions to dlG were: “Don’t tryto work on any behavior issues, try to get some language work done and don’tget sued.”

The client didn't show up for the first few sessions of thesemester, and each day, dlG waited anxiously, getting paler and paler as 4:30rolled around. I worked the library shift at that time, and I couldn't help butlaugh at her plight. I wasn't laughing to be mean, I laughed because it was aterribly awkward situation for her, and I didn't really know how to handle it,so I laughed.

One day, fed up with my laughing, she recruited Mr. W toplay a trick on me. He came up to me and said “Zimmerman, I think it would bebeneficial for you to co-treat with dlG this semester.” I ALMOST PEED MY PANTS.I’m not kidding, I was terrified. He was teasing me. 

Fast forward to the beginning of this semester, when Ms. Bwas assigning clients to us at the clinic. She sent me an email and made surethat I was able to take a 4:30 pm client, and said “you may want to talk to dlG…”I was scared, but with a semester of therapy under my belt (hahaha), I thought it wouldbe ok, and it was kind of nice that the supervisors trusted me to have thiskind of HARD client.

Our first therapy session went well, there were some bumps,and some behavioral issues, but there wasn’t really anything that made meafraid for my life.

Let me take you to my session last Tuesday. The clientgreeted me in the waiting room, then proceeded to follow me to the therapy roomwhile acting like a cat. Great, so long as kitty will use its words. The firsthalf of the session went fine, activities went over pretty well, and at 5:00 wetook a break and went to get a drink in the hallway, as we do every therapysession at 5:00.

The kid tried to run away. We followed the pre-determinedplan (this has happened before) and after a few minutes, things were resolvedand we got back to work.

There were 5 minutes left in my session. FIVE MINUTES. Iwanted to get in one more activity, one we’d done many times. I would hand the clienttwo rings and give directions to toss “the blue after the green” onto the back of a little chair in our room.

We’ve been working on this concept of before/after for weeksand while before is about mastered, after is tougher without some serious cueing.The client did two tasks wrong, so before handing over the last two rings, Iattempted to teach quickly “remember, AFTER means second!” The client didn’tlike that much, and so lunged for the rings I held in my hand.

Being STUPID, I held the rings out of the client’s reach.

This is the point that everything gets a little blurry. Theclient lunged for the rings; I pulled them out of reach, the client lashed outat the thing that was the closest to their face. MY RIGHT BREAST.

All I have to say about this is, TGFPB- Thank goodness forpadded bras! Vicky, you saved my life (or my right boob). 

The session ended, I got to file a report, I cried in Mr. W’soffice (I was slightly traumatized by the whole thing). I called my dad andthen I got the email:

Sessions cancelled for the rest of the semester.

Traumatic? Yes. 

A good story/ experience? Yes. 

But was it worth gettingout of clinic for the rest of the semester?

Absolutely.

Koala-ty feelings

This picture makes my blood pressure/stress levels lower just looking at it. 

Enjoy. 

Deliverance

This morning I found myself unable to sleep. After a later than typical night last night I had gone to sleep, setting my alarm so that I could wake up and complete a quick assignment due before my 8:30am class. Since returning from spring break, I haven’t yet caught up on my sleep, and have added a severe case of allergies to top it off. (Boyfriend almost didn’t kiss me goodnight; it’s not pretty). Needless to say, sleep is pretty high on my list of THINGS I NEED. So imagine my dismay when I find myself wide awake at 6:30 this morning. Not thinking about any particular thing, not worried or stressed, except at the sleep that I was losing! After 15 minutes of attempting to fall back asleep, I gave up and opened my computer.

I quickly finished the assignment I had planned on completing, and then checked to see what was due next week. 

Thankfully I did look, there was another assignment due this morning, along with the original one I knew about. Both were finished in time for class to start, but I find myself grateful for a Heavenly Father who is aware enough of me and my schedule to wake me in the wee hours of the morning so that I can be successful in my endeavors. It seems like such a small thing, but for me, it was a (needed) reminder that “the tender mercies of the Lord are over all those whom he hath chosen, because of their faith, to make them mighty even unto the power of deliverance.” (Even if that deliverance is from a zero in a grade book.)

In My Defense

Yesterday I called my busiest sister. I’m going to visit her next week and needed to know when she was most available for me to stay with her for a couple of nights. Every time I think my life is crazy, I just talk to her for a minute and realize that perhaps being an art student is more demanding than being a grad student (perhaps, maybe they’re just different…)  but I digress.

About 5 minutes into our conversation, just as I was pulling into my driveway, she said (and I quote)

“Congratulations on getting a boyfriend, I hear all you do is make out all the time.”

Me: “Thanks. Wait, what? How did you get that information?”

Her: “Samuel told me. He read it on your blog.”

*Samuel is my sister's old roommate's husband. Also, my other sister's brother in law.*

Me: “He read that we make out all the time?”

Her: “yeah. I don’t have time to read your blog.”

I went home and re read my blog post. Mostly I just alluded to the fact that I had been kissed. (Read it, I said NOTHING about making out. Nothing specific about how and where, because frankly, it’s none of your business -though I do love you).

So here’s my defense: 

Yes, I have a boyfriend.

Yes, we kiss on occasion, not “all the time.”

We do other things to. I do homework. We go to music recitals. We eat. We cook. We go to church things. 

We talk. We tease. And sometimes, on occasion, appropriately, we kiss.

And I like it.

So there. 

Ice Cream

Many moons ago, when I was at BYU, there was a list of perks you got when your roommate started dating someone. The list varied a bit, but it was essentially the following:

Holding hands: M&M's

Kissing: Ice Cream

Engagement: Dinner

Over the many moons that I lived in Provo, I received many M&M's, and my fair share of ice cream. Last night, had I had roommates, they would have gotten some ice cream out of me.


Alas, I don't have any roommates, so I served myself a big bowl of ice cream and relished in losing yet another finger in my 5 finger rule**.


**When I was 16 or so, I gave myself a rule. The rule is that I am only allowed to kiss 5 boys before I get married. (Now, at that point I was anticipating getting married by 19 or 20 years old, ha!, so these things may need to be adjusted).

The Lost Boys to my Wendy

One of the things I really like about my life in Portales is my social life. It was completely unexpected. After attending the ward, I saw my options for single female friends were either 18 or 29 and bitter. I became fast friends with RayMike, a 19 year old convert of about a year. He is quite like my little brother.

A couple of months into last semester I was at Institute and was talking to Mike and Matt and they invited me out to eat afterwards. That was the beginning. We started hanging out every weekend, which led to hanging out every couple of nights, which led to hanging out every night. The first or second Sunday we all hung out Matt had to do home teaching before we hung out, and along came Justin.

And thus it began. Emily and her lost boys. Each so different. There have been some love triangles :/ and some fights, and a fair amount of drama, and a boyfriend mixed in there. There have been occasional interlopers, people who add into our group periodically in and out. And we like it. But when it comes down to it, when it's me and the three boys I'm happy. They make my crazy school life bearable. A night without them makes me lonely.

I'm so glad I have my group of lost boys to take care of and to let them take care of me.

A big deal.

After lunch on Monday I was at my practicum Elementary School and in the hall way I ran into one of the girls from my program who'd gone home and checked her email during lunch. Remediation plans from Dr. Swift's class had come through. 

I asked how bad it was and her face went stressed, bad. It was bad. She told me she'd done badly on the final, but wouldn't qualify that until I told her that'd I'd gotten a 77% on my final. (FYI, a 77% on a Swift test is kind of AMAZING). Anyway. So I was super stressed. I went home and with trepidation checked my email. 

My inbox showed the following email: 

I am a rockstar!

Incentive

Upon returning home at my appointed curfew time tonight I checked my email before bed (as per usual). Shockingly my favorite teacher, Swift, changed the due-time for our assignment tomorrow from 11:55 pm to 11:00 AM, and class is from 9:00-10:40. Oi Vey! So here I am, up at 2:30 am, taking a quick break from homework because I now have incentive to finish my homework. Because if I get it done tonight...

A boy is bringing me breakfast. 

That's right. A boy is bringing me breakfast!!He likes me. And we cuddle. And he initiated. And he likes me. And we have a third date on Saturday night. I LURVE my life right now. (Okay, not so much the homework bit, but the boy is a nice perk). 

The shape of a heart

I have this theory. We live our lives in basic shapes. Squares, circles, triangles, etc. Especially now, when I live in small town New Mexico, and I don't really leave town, or deviate from my 5 places.

But because of my small town life, my life has a 4 mile diameter. It isn't shaped like a triangle, my life is shaped more like a heart. (Ok, you have to kind of use your imagination and flip it upside down, but see!)

A/F: My house! Next time I fine a house I probably won't choose one on the main street (read my last post to find out why not), but I love it. 

B: Eastern New Mexico University. I spend a LOT of time here. (Obviously.) 

C: Church-- Sunday, Monday and Wednesday you'll find me there. Maybe somewhere else. 

D: James Elementary School-- The location of my practicum. 8-4:30 Monday and Wednesdays. 

E: Matt's house. Where we get together to watch TV and play backgammon, and where maybe there was something akin to cuddling.... maybe. :)

Happenings

This week I seriously considered moving.

Reason #1:

Let me set the scene.

Saturday night at about 10:00 I get a text from the sister missionaries: "Hey, can you pick one of our investigators up for church tomorrow, her name is Felicia?" Me: "sure, meet me there in the morning?"

Sunday morning I drove up, parked next to the sisters' car and game them a ring. The sisters walk out with a hispanic girl in a track suit. (I'm not sure if they told her how we usually dress for church, but whatever!)

The whole way to church Felicia raves about MY CAR... MY CAR, folks! Remember what I drive?

Betsy. 1985 Volvo 740... 340,000+ miles on her. Looks just like this, just imagine her with more dust on her.

So the whole way to church I hear "This is a cool car" "I like this car" Then, it gets worse: "I need to figure out how to use this car so I know what to do when it's mine" and "I'm going to take your car." 

I laughed it off, till after church, when the sister missionaries came over for lunch. We're sitting on my bed, eating enchiladas, and they divulge some things about Felicia. 

Turns out, Felicia signs all of her texts "$lil lokita$" And has some... suspicious tattoos. Like gang tattoos. 

AND SHE WANTS TO STEAL MY CAR. 

Needless to say I was perturbed. 

Reason #2

Again setting the scene. 

It's about 2 pm, I'm sitting in the laundromat, minding my own Language text book (let me tell you how dry that book is!) Waiting for my laundry to dry so that I can get into work. 

It was not like this: 

Enter a man. 6 food, red head, big-ish. He looks at me and says (and I kid you not)

"Are you worried about not being able to get into your driveway?"

Me: "I'm sorry?"

Man: "You live just over there, right?" (Gestures in the direction of my house, 3 blocks away) 

        "The road construction is on hold till March"

 *Note: Portales is in a constant state of construction, I live just off the highway that goes through town. They're currently re-doing the other side of the two lane, one way road. At some point they'll switch sides and I'll have to park around the corner or something...ok, back to the story...*

Me: "Oh, yeah, I was worried I'd get back from Christmas break and not be able to get to my house"

Him: "You rent from _______ (I don't remember his name), right?"

Me: "Yeah, I think that's his name..." (turns back to book, hoping that it will make my point).

Him: "And your house has a washer/dryer hook up, doesn't it"

Me "yeah"

Him: "What utilities do you pay?"

The conversation continued. My attempts to concentrate on my reading was impossible. And, as I left he said:

"Well, see you around." (BECAUSE HE KNOWS WHERE I LIVE!!)

Needless to say I am a little freaked out!



All week I have lived in fear of coming out in the morning and having my car gone. Or opening the door at night to find the tall ginger standing on my step.


Perhaps, next time I am house shopping, I'll think through things. Things like, the frat house that is across the street from me. Or the fact that I'm on the MAIN road, and I have a recognizable car in Portales, NM. (There is a super cute baby blue Mercedes from about the same era as Betsy). Also, backing out onto the one-way street during busy traffic times can sometimes be... interesting.

So, here's the deal. If my car disappears, I'll be checking up on $lil lokita$ and if I disappear, you're going to want to go to the Happy Wash Laundromat and find their employee, tall, red head, big-ish guy. He'll probably know where to find me.

And, someday. I'm going to get a garage.

Drama Emily doesn't need in her life, part 1

Ok, so it is4:30 am, and when my parents read this, they will wonder why on earth I am up at this time. I didn't plan on being awake. In fact, I was prepared to go to bed 90 minutes ago, when I got home... But then, stuff happened.

1: I pull into my driveway, and inside the gate I see some movement on my front porch. Skeptical, I watch for a minute, and low and behold, it's a SKUNK! Te was no way I was going to risk disturbing that guy (ps, who even knew there were skunks in nm? I thought they lived in swamps!) anyway, I had to wait for the skunk to get around the house, then make lots of noise while going in quickly so I didn't get sprayed. So I was a little worked up after that.

2: I ate dinner at about 5 pm. I was starving. So naturally, I made myself some delicious guacamole and a cup of tea.

3: and this ones the kicker. I got home, and one of my friends who I went to the movie with texted me. So we've been texting for a while, and out of the blue he says "while we are on this subject, next time the four of us go out, let's make it an official double date." This kid says all of 3 words to me every time we hang out, a conversation is like pulling teeth, and he asked me out, via text message... The funny thing is that I was hanging out with his sister last week, and she asked me if he liked me. I just asked her right back, I guess the answer was yes...and because it's 4:45 am, I have nobody to tell but my poor neglected blog.

The thing is, of the boys I hang out with, Justin is probably the most righteous of the group. (Begging the question of why he'd ask me out)... But... I mean... It's Justin. A double date with mike and Kirsten will probably mean mike and I will talk, and Justin will sit quietly... Oi vey. This'll be a fun one. Stay tuned for "drama emily doesn't need in her life, part 2".

Good night and good luck.