Dear Dad,

Wish I could be with you this Father's Day, but I'm glad I at least got to spend a little bit of time with you during Spring Term.

Well, you already know what I got you cuz I told you yesterday. Here's a picture of your Stanley Cup champs shirt, which will hopefully arrive sometime soon:

(And just FYI, I got one for myself, too.)

So there are a few things I want to say thank you for. I guess there are more than a few, but I'll only include a few here. (Guess you'll have to wait a whole year for the other ones!)

Today in Relief Society, we had a lesson about fathers. (Seems fitting.) The teacher handed out little sticky notes for us to write down some things we thought about our dads while we watched a short video about dads. This is what mine looked like:

 (That's you as a little superhero on the right.)

Rock Valley College graduation, May 17, 2013

1. You are the most hardworking person I know. You are not only a valuable asset to Motorola, but to every organization in your life, from church life to family life.

2. You've supported me in all my efforts, and you've supported me even when I wasn't there to support myself.

3. You're always very generous and let me have the last piece(s) of chocolate that you've "hidden" in your desk. Thanks!

Ice Hogs game, Nov. 30, 2013

4. I shared this one in Relief Society today. I think you're strong. You were living a different lifestyle before you joined the Church, and you gave up things that many people wouldn't have so you could live the Word of Wisdom.

5. You're selfless. Thanks for putting up those extra shelves in my room even though you were tired and ready to leave for Utah.

White Sox game, June 23, 2012

6. You're loyal. Honestly, I'm pretty sure I was thinking specifically of sports when I wrote that one. Thanks for raising me to be an Ice Hogs and Blackhawks fan and going to White Sox games with me!

7. You're faithful. To your family, to the Church, and to your friends.

8. You're helpful. THIS is actually the one I wrote down when I was thinking about the shelves you hung in my room. Cuz I don't know what wall anchors are, and I would've messed it up if I'd tried to do it myself.

9. You're grateful, and it reminds me to be grateful, too.

White Sox game, June 28, 2013

10. You're funny. You know, when you're quoting the Three Stooges and stuff.

11. You're loving. I don't think there's ever been any question in my mind about whether or not you love me. I can just tell you do.

12. You're clever. Like when you're writing out clues for our Easter basket hunts. That's a tradition I want to continue when I have kids of my own.

13. You're smart. I mean, you must be, cuz you married Mom and raised some pretty awesome kids.

Utah Valley Regional Medical Center, June 26/27, 2014

I'm so glad you're my dad, and I'm so thankful I have you. Today, I felt an overwhelming feeling of gratitude. June 25th, 2014 was the scariest night of my life (even scarier than all the Motel 6's I've stayed in combined). Because I was worried I was going to lose you, and I was worried things would never be the same again.

But I'm grateful that my worries did not become reality. I'm glad we have the priesthood in our lives and that you, yourself, hold and use the priesthood. If the stroke had to happen, I'm glad it happened when and where it did, where we could get top-of-the-line professional help and a priesthood blessing. I still thank Heavenly Father every morning and night for that miracle, and I pray for His continued protection over you.

So... thanks for all you do! I love you!

When All the World's Engaged but You

As a college student, I'm going through this thing where pretty much everyone and their dogs are getting married or are well on their way to it. Seriously, I feel like every single day brings another engagement announcement to my Facebook feed.

And I'm happy for them!

But.... let's face it. It's a little weird when one of your first roommates, and people from high school, and girls you went to girls' camp with are posting totally adorable pictures of their significant others and spouses-to-be and wedding rings. So sometimes you just gotta....

Dear Mom,

Today, in the "Shoot, tomorrow's Mother's Day, and I still don't know what to do" antics of this afternoon, I (only a little) frantically started searching for some relatively fast, easy, and inexpensive ideas of what to get you. I came across some super awesome crafts and DIY projects that would've been sweet, but they probably just would've turned into more stuff that we didn't actually need and wouldn't actually use.

So I did some of them anyway.

But all that's not the point. The point is, when I was looking for ideas of what to do or get for you, I just kept thinking about you. And I might've even started getting a little teary-eyed thinking about all you've done for me. I might even be getting a little teary-eyed right now thinking about it.

Or maybe it's just allergies. I'll use that as an excuse if anyone asks.

I feel stupid writing mushy letters like this, and I feel even more stupid saying things like this out loud. Which is... stupid. Because you never hesitate to let me know how proud you are of me. And I don't do that nearly often enough for you.


Now, I don't want this to turn into a novel or anything. (If I ever work up the nerve to try to get any of my books published, I'll probably dedicate those to you, and those will be your mandatory novel reads from me. But this isn't one of those. So I'll try to keep this short and simple.)

I can't write about everything good about you because that would simply take an eternity. Not to mention, there's probably not enough open space in the Internet to list all the great things about you. So here are just a couple little things I want to thank you for.

You support me in everything I do. Even after I did stupid things like take out my anger that we lost a seventh grade basketball game out on you, a more-than-innocent-because-you-were-coming-to-support-me spectator. You and Dad always made sure someone was there to cheer me on in all my sports, concerts, award nights, graduations, everything. You're always there for me. I know I can call you up crying about a stupid boy, or a church calling I think I can't handle, or a recipe I can't figure out, or even just to chat at work or on my way home from campus.

One of the most important things I think you've taught me is how to say sorry. It's hard to admit when you're wrong, but you taught me through your example that it's important to learn how to. I can think of times at college I've messed up or done something stupid and had to apologize to somebody. That's something I hope to continue getting better at as I think of all the times you apologized to me even when I was the one who'd done something wrong.

You're the best mom in the world. Looking back, I know I didn't recognize how smart and good and right you always were about {almost} everything. But as I've gotten older, I've realized that a little bit more. I'll never be able to thank you enough for everything that you do for me. I take pride in the fact that the kids at the high school know who you are, and I take pride in the fact that my old teachers know I'm your daughter. You're not a normal mom. You're a cool mom. ;)

I've told a lot of my friends at BYU that I'm exactly like my mom in a lot of ways. And that's something else I'm proud of. Little kids always say they want to be just like their moms or dads when they grow up. I may be old enough to drive and pay rent and file tax returns, but I wouldn't say I'm done growing up yet. But as I continue to grow up, I hope I turn out to be a whole lot more like you.

You're my best mom.

Love,

Your Best Girl

How to Get on a Janitor's Bad Side (And Good Side)

If you recall my previous post, you know that I'm a janitor. I always used to feel bad for janitors. Like, "Aw, pobrecito. He has to clean up after everyone. That must be a terrible job." And actually.... it's not. Like, sure, there are occasionally things that I just plain don't wanna do because they're just plain unappealing. But it's not as bad as you might think. I am grateful for the slobs of the world. And also the not-slobs who use the garbage cans and toilet paper and other glamorous things.

However. There are ways to get on a janitor's bad side. So I'm going to clue you in on a few things.

First off: GUM. What in the world possesses people to stick chewed gum in random places? I don't get it!

Next off: Learn how to read signs. I'm honestly not sure how people can look at something that says Aluminum Cans and think it means Any-the-heck-thing you want.

Sometimes people like to leave giant, empty peanut butter jars and old banana peels under a chair in an obscure corner where they think I won't notice them........ I do. (And they wonder why we had a mouse in our building...)

Leaving a classroom in a condition like this is unacceptable if you are not an unsupervised four-year-old.

I'm really glad you and Runnis are so in love. Really. But you don't have to advertise it on any surface that can stand the pressure of graphite.

If you're also a custodian, don't do things like this. My job is not to fix your lousy job.

CHAIRS, CHAIRS, CHAIRS. I cannot rant on for long enough about chairs. This first picture is photographic evidence of the putting away of folding chairs in a manner that a half-brained monkey would grimace at. Seriously, stack them nicely so they all fit. (I had to fit over fifty more chairs into this room but had to rearrange all of these ones so I could do that.) The second is of chairs that should never be stacked. Because I have to push them over to the side and use all my body weight to un-stack them.

Um.... Don't forget your dirty laundry.

 Or your dirty tissues.

For GOODNESS sake, do NOT under ANY circumstances leave a cup full of liquid in a normal trash can! Especially when there's a drinking fountain right next to it!

On the note of garbage cans, don't play last-to-be-drafted-in-the-NBA-picks when you're trying to throw something away. (I dislike splatters, and so should you.)

And please actually use them. It's hard for someone who's technically under five feet to reach aaaalllll the way to the top of a locker to retrieve your empty hot chocolate container.

I'm not even sure why this happens (and probably don't want to know why), but this has happened multiple times.... Why do people leave a wad of crumpled up paper towel on the shelf in the stalls? The world may never know.

Don't stick things in places they don't fit.

 And don't leave your programs in every nook and cranny you can find.

Umm....

Please don't lick your finger and then proceed to write on the chalkboard. That's gross for both me and you.

Don't make me break out the goggles and gloves. I look like a big dork in them. (#BathroomSelfie #LikeTheUrinalsInTheBackground?)

And even though I've pointed out many things not to do, there are some things custodians really like. For example:

We do get a kick out of funny notes on our hand-made signs.

 And we do appreciate it when you bring our attention to the fact that something needs fixed. We're not psychics, after all.

And if you need something done but can't find one of us to ask, leave a polite note somewhere obvious so we can do what we can to help you.

I really am grateful for my job. And I really am grateful for the people who make it so I HAVE a job. So that means people like you, kind reader. You are too kind.

*This has been a public service announcement.*

"This is Why We Can't Have Nice Things."

I'm a custodian. I clean stuff. I take down chairs and tables. I come, I see, and I conquer. Occasionally I'll break vacuums when I'm trying to clean elevators. Sue me. (Michael Scott reference, anyone?)

There I was, merely trying to fulfill my duty as a building care specialist (that looks better on résumés than "dust bunny collector"). My jaw was set with determination, my brow was furrowed in concentration, and my superhero cape was tightly fastened. I've been eyeing the elevator in the building for a while now. Those particles of dust and hair and little snippets of paper have been mocking me since the day I started. After a conversation with a friend last night about how to go about vacuuming an elevator (no, I'm not kidding; that was a legitimate conversation), I knew today was the day.

It was finally time.

My time to shine.

Or rather, the elevator's time to shine.

So, like any rational custodian would do, I grabbed a trusty vacuum from the closet and set off to work. Now, there's no outlet in the elevator. So I had to use that special variety of intuition only janitors can hope to possess, and I decided to use the nearest outlet outside of the elevator.

When I entered the lift to commence Operation Show This Elevator Who's Boss, I made sure to put a big garbage can in between the doors so they wouldn't close while I was working.

*Cue Just Whistle While You Work* (Except I was actually listening to a country station on Pandora.)

Life was blissful. For a few cherished moments, it seemed as though all was well with the world. The carpet was under my control. I was its Master. I was, in short, the Master Commander (Olan Rogers, ladies and gentlemen).

...And then that bliss was shattered. An unearthly buzzing sound pierced the air, and I knew the elevator was singing me the song of its people. I turned to look in horror.

THE DOORS WERE CLOSING.

And things like this prove that I'd be no good at being an EMT or anything. I don't know what to do in situations that just happen, like this. I pushed the "Door Open" button, but that didn't do squat; the doors kept closing. So I shoved the garbage out of the way, and by then, I didn't have time to do anything else before I was cut off from the rest of humanity.

So I stood there in the elevator with the vacuum. "That's okay," I told myself. "I didn't hit any floor button, so the elevator's not going to move." Well, guess what.

That bad boy moved.

Yup, right on up to the next floor it soared. My custodial intuition was flickering, much like the flame of a candle in a damp cavern. My superhero cape (which, in case you haven't figured it out yourself, is only metaphorical) blew away and died on the wind, just like my dreams of becoming a professional elevator vacuumer.

So the doors opened up on the next floor. I looked down and saw that yellow cord stuck in the crack between the floor and elevator--you know, the one that makes you grip your credit cards and phones a little bit more tightly when you walk over it. I tried pulling on the cord, but, (much like pushing the "Door Open" button) that wasn't going to do a gosh-derned thing.

I radioed a supervisor for help. Soon enough, my boss's boss came to the rescue. He looked at the elevator, with that yellow cord extending through the top of the doors.... and started laughing.

Here I had been on the verge of tears, worrying I would cost BYU thousands of dollars to fix the elevator I had most definitely just caused nearly irrevocable damage to... and the area supervisor was laughing. Whew. That was a relief.

And then he thanked me for vacuuming the elevator. HA. What a nice guy. He was like, "I can tell you're really worked up about this, but don't worry about it. It's okay." Darn right I was worked up. I pretty much thought I was going to DIE. I almost used the emergency phone or the call-the-firefighters button! But he was able to get it unstuck after a few painful minutes. The vacuum was broken. And the outlet shut itself off. But he was still reassuring me that everything was fine.

He told me in all his years of working here, I was the first student he had ever heard or seen this happen to. He thought it was pretty funny.

*Sigh* And my thoughtful not-actually-coworkers-because-we-have-different-shifts had written a nice note for me on the board. Even after this incident, thinking about it made me smile.

Well, I did, for the most part!

"I am a flamingo in a world of pigeons."

There are a few things in this world that can make a gal simultaneously want to cry her eyes out, starve out of stress, eat everything in sight, scream to the air in general, have a significant other to tell her it'll be all right, and take a nap.

College is one of them.

I love BYU. Absolutely adore it. The people are great, the classes are great, the atmosphere is great, the wards are great. Some are born great and others have greatness thrust upon them. I was launched into the second category, apparently, when I enrolled at BYU.

Maybe that quote from Confessions of a Teenage Drama Queen that I used as the title should be flipped a little bit. *I* am a pigeon in a world of flamingos. EVERYONE ELSE HERE IS PERFECT AT EVERYTHING. At least, that's how it feels sometimes.

Sometimes, I do this cute little thing where I'm hyper-critical of every failed task I perform, every awkward sentence I utter, every chipped nail I leave unpainted... And you wanna know the grand total number of times that's ended up making me feel wonderful and confident?

Exactly zero.

Unnecessary self-criticism will never end in happiness. The thing that'll end in happiness isn't keeping a tally of all the mistakes you've ever made in your life. What's going to end in happiness is letting go of those things.

(I'm gonna shut myself up right there. One Frozen reference is quite enough for one blog post.)

Gosh darn it, I AM a flamingo in a world of pigeons! (I refer you back to the first picture.) I might not have the most melodic voice or nimble fingers, or the highest grades or number of followers on Twitter. But who needs all that? Surely not a strong, independent pink flamingo who don't need no man. (That's me.)

That's as deep as I can get right now. Like.... even that was a little too serious for this blog. But I think it's a good thing to remind ourselves of. We should be what we wanna be, and be proud of it.

I'm sorry this post isn't as illustrated as some of my other ones. And I know what you're thinking. "Krista, you're a college kid. You have SO much homework and cleaning and organizing and homework and socializing and homework and shopping (heh! Good one!) to do... Why aren't you wasting more time on your blog?"

Good question. Probably next time I have a big exam coming up or a stressful presentation to prepare for, I'll take the time to draw masterpieces via Paint. But since I'm relatively free tonight (it's a Friday night. I shouldn't be free. Just throwin' that out there), I have other things to waste my time on. Like dishes. And I am making some progress on my homework. Here's photographic evidence:

BREAK TIME!