Abby Normal

I am in an amazing sociology class for my LAST semester ever at BYU. We recently had an assignment where we were to team up with a partner, go the the Cougar Eat (main watering hole at BYU), and break social eating norms. Let's talk about how excited I was for this and how fantastic my partner was. 

First social norm to break was grabbing an ice-cream cone by the wrong end while shirtless. (Observe inspiration below)

Joke. Not shirtless, but that would have been even more entertaining. My brazen friend and I grabbed our cones from the perky ice-cream girl, her eyes bulged out of her head as she exclaimed "Holy cow! I've never seen anyone eat ice-cream like that?!"

My response as I began licking the hand numbing goodness dribbling all over the place "Really? It is SO much better this way. I love the feeling of melted ice-cream between my fingers"

My friend and I then trotted off to the restroom to watch our reflections eat our ice-cream while blocking the  poor girls who desperately needed to reapply their lip gloss. Based on the reaction of the girls in the bathroom for those precious fifteen minutes, you really would have thought we were beating up their grandma in front of them while naked.   

The final part of my "assignment" was my favorite. 

I zeroed in on two shy looking assumed freshman girls quietly eating there lunch. I walked up to the table, sat down, and stared at them. The first girl, being friendly, said "Would you like to sit with us?"

I wish I had the balls to just keep staring, but instead I nodded and started a conversation with them. Now here comes the best part, I stared licking the contents of my taco out while staring them in the face. It was hilarious! They avoided eye contact for the most part, but when they finally did look at me they tried to tell me I had something on my face. I tried to use my braid to wipe it away which was met with an onslaught of mortified staring. I finally just left the table with a friendly wave and expected to never see them again. 

False. Of all the tables in the silly place I ended up picking one with the two girls who would be taking tennis with me. Whoops. I still haven't told them it was for a project. I hope they continue to stare at me during tennis horrified I will eat a taco in front of them again. 

The real kicker from this assignment came from the phone call I made to my mom to tell her all about my project. 

Me: Hey Mom! Guess what I did today?

Mom: Honey, try on the green one! It makes your chest look manly. Oh sorry, sweetie, we are shopping for your dad. He is loving it.

Me: Oh I am sure (my dad detests shopping almost as much as I do). Anyway, I did this project (told her an abbreviated version of above). Isn't that awesome?!

Mom: Oh honey. Doesn't your professor know this wasn't a challenge for you? You're naturally a weirdo everyday of your life.

My mom loves me. She always knows how to make me feel extra special :)

I'm a Blonde-Ya, Ya, Ya

So a lot of people have been asking "Why?!"

Why did I go from this

To This

Reason One: The shock factor. I knew I was going to be seeing my family this last week and wanted to blow their socks off. It was either getting a huge "I Heart Mom" tattoo on my face or dying my hair a different color

Reason Two: Because I wanted to know if I could successfully pull of an alias for my future as an international, butt-kicking, full bodied spandex wearing spy 

Reason Three: Cause I freggin wanted to. I have always wondered what I would look like as a blonde. And a red head. And a neon green head. Blonde was simply the first one on the list. 

The responses have been varied. Here are a few of my favorites

"Wow, you look really different..."

"You looked ten times better as a brunette"

"Why would you EVER want to be a blonde?! No. Seriously. Why? Are you going to dye it back soon?"

" You know the dumb blonde jokes are never going to end for you now"

"But blondes aren't nearly as beautiful as brunettes!" (said in front of my blonde husband. Thanks a heap unnamed person)

"You used to be so pretty..."

All of these have really bolstered my confidence. Others have been kinder

"You have the skin tone to pull of both"

"So few people can look great both ways"

After my grandfather winked at me, "You look like a bodacious blonde babe" Yes, I felt slightly unsure on how to respond.

My favorite. From Sel "You are easily the most beautiful brunette and the most beautiful blonde I have ever seen. Too bad I prefer red-heads like Van Pelt from 'The Mentalist' " (Okay, so the red head part was my addition ;) 

Next big life change is either going to be the I Heart Mom face tattoo or shaving my head. Or both. Or just resulting to my animalistic nature as I did in this little treat for you

Shaltz - Adams' Ron Swanson

I write this through tears. I went to bed last night hoping that the next morning would reveal my sorrow was misplaced, that it had all been a dream. That Shaltz wasn't gone. 

I remember the first time I met him. My friend and I were hurriedly finishing homework before first period began. A man in a yellow track sweatshirt sauntered past us and unexpectedly pulled my friend's paper from her lap. "I can't believe he took my homework from me!" she exclaimed. I couldn't believe it either and told her I would go retrieve it for her. I marched indignantly into his classroom, puffed out my chest, and brazenly asked, "Why did you take my friend's homework? You should give it back to her right now"

His response, "Is your friend's name Marina Bell?" 

My bravery deflated to shame. My friend had been caught copying and conveniently didn't tell me that before I stormed in demanding justice. 

"Whoops, well...sorry about that. I didn't know.."

He asked me my name and I sorely considered giving a fake one, but figured he would know I was lying. 

"Well, Miss King. I like you. I expect you will be taking my philosophy class next semester? It is mostly upperclassman, but I am sure you will be able to handle it since you handled this situation so well" I promised I would and tried to avoid passing his classroom for the rest of the semester.

When it came time to sign up for classes, I was a little wary to actually follow through on my promise to take his class. He was a bit intimidating with his bushy mustache, flannel shirts, and no-nonsense attitude. I decided to go ahead and take it anyway. It was one of those seemingly insignificant moments that redefined my life course. 

That semester in his classroom was like no other I had ever nor would ever experience. He somehow managed to combine being one of the most laid back teachers in the school and one of the toughest. Philosophy was an hour of intellectual discussion on anything. From why saying you were from Detroit would impress other people to why Oatmeal Scotchie cookies were the most supreme combination of ingredients possible. He challenged me to think-not regurgitate facts. Once, when I was taking AP History from him my senior year, I got a 95% on a test. I stayed after class to argue with him that one of the questions was misleading and I actually deserved to get a 97% on the test. 

He just stared at me for a good 5 seconds (he was really good at looking right through Dumbledore style). Finally, he responded with "King-life is not going to always give you what you think you deserve. You need to stop caring about grades and start caring more about life"

I was not entirely pleased at this moment because right then my life WAS getting good grades. The next time I saw my grade, he had changed it from a 95% to a 100%. 

From sophomore year to senior year, Shaltz was my idol and friend. He actually cared about who I was and who my peers were. He wanted us to succeed. He wanted us to learn and become better. 

He knew I loved running and would always ask about my cross-country meets. When track rolled around he kept prodding my to try throwing (discus and shot-put). He came up behind me one day in class with a ruler and measured my shoulder girth while informing me I would be doing Adams a sore injustice to not throw for them. I showed up the first day out of respect for Shaltz only to prove to him how awful I was. After awhile of sucking, he accepted the fact my shoulder girth was not going to outweigh my lack of coordination. He told me I could still come over during practices and just talk to him instead. 

This is scattered, but I just needed to write some of these memories. These memories that make me smile and cry simultaneously. When my high school years were coming to an end, Shaltz helped make my college plans come true. He wrote me a letter of recommendation that said the absolute nicest things anyone has ever said about me. 

He talked in the letter about how he had a young daughter who he could only hope would be half the young woman I was. He talked of how impressed he was with me from the first day I foolishly stormed into his classroom. How he had seen me grow year after year. How I was uniquely kind and compassionate. How I was intelligent and knew how to argue a point.  How BYU would be "the most foolish university created if it did not admit someone so promising and inspiring"-Shaltz. He wrote in my year book "You have a gift King. Keep sharing it and don't waste it" 

He wasn't supposed to die. He was the Ron Swanson of Adams High. He was everything a teacher and a human being should be and more. I loved Mr. Shaltz and cannot believe such a brilliant, far-reaching light has gone out. I don't know how long it will be before I stop tearing up at the thought that I didn't get to say goodbye, that I didn't keep in touch over emails, that I never got to tell him how much he meant to me, how much he defined me. Steve Shaltz left this world "trailing clouds of glory"- Woodsworth. I am so grateful for the blessing of knowing him. 

What Disney Wishes it Was

You know when you go to Disneyland/Disney World and there are the streets with fake painted houses and shops and cobblestone streets? All part of creating a magical illusion of some adorable town accessible only when wrapped in plaster, plastic, and loads of paint. Disney wakes up everyday and wishes it was Mackinac Island and you know what, it doesn't even come close. 

The second you step off the ferry, the sweet aroma of honeysuckle and lilac mixed with a slight aroma of horses wafts over your now happy self. The main street is made of cobblestone from the late 1800's and the shops are painted a calming sea foam green, lavender, lemon yellow, and peach. Sleek, muscled horses line the streets tugging cargo to the restaurants or waiting to take you on a guided tour. Bikes of all colors with adorable baskets practically grab your wrist with the excitement to drag you along the beautiful trails beyond the main street. 

The houses are out of a fairy tale with their victorian meets the seaside architecture and fantastical colors of teal, bright purple, lime green and some not as exciting creams and whites. 

As you finally move past the roaming tourist lined streets you and your eager bike take in the breathtaking sight of a white rock lined beach kissing the bursting forrest of green. The water is so clear it almost seems fake. Instead of the tropical turquoise of more Southern areas, the water is a lush, deep blue with hues of glimmering white and gold- it also, in case you are wondering, is freaking cold no matter what month you go there. The forrest is better than any tropical one. The paths throughout it are matted softly with fallen pine needles and the variety of wildflowers is astounding for such a little place. Mackinac even plays host to the carnivorous plants, bladderworts. Growing carnivorous plants bumps anybody and anything from decently interesting to the top of the top of everything. Ever. 

Another scent I forgot to mention that eventually draws one back from exploring trails and rock arches is the scent of freshly made fudge. And ice-cream...though that part of the delicious smell is technically the making of waffle cones. Either way, the plethora of these smells spells H-E-A-V-E-N for me. 

The only negative thing about the island is known as The Grand Hotel. Not only is it the filming sight for one of the lamest love stories Hollywood has ever produced, but it also is the meeting spot for some of the world's most snobbish individuals. As I was trying to capture a picture of the hotel (from the street. On my bike...) one of the bellhops felt it his duty to descend from his perch on the steps and take the three minutes to walk over to me and inform my street rat self that it would cost ten dollars for me to take pictures from my current location. Forty dollars if you want to sit in the lobby folks. Too bad this hotel exists on this island because without it, it might just beat out Moab for most coveted place in my heart.

Today was fantastic and all I could have ever hoped for and more...well, except for the fact that M& P are currently NOT sharing their SIX pounds of fudge they bought with Sel and I. I am so happy Sel, Madre, Poptart and I were able to explore such a beautiful portion of the world today. Hope you all get to go someday too and that your parents are giving enough to share their fudge with your starving selves! (We are two minutes from Canada right now and what says fudge better than fudge?!)