Remember in my last post how I said Greg and I were looking to buy a house in Salt Lake City?  Oh you don’t remember because my last post was in March?!  And that was Q1 and we just finished Q3 and no one remembers that far back, ammiright?  Well, fair enough.  So here’s the deal.  Greg and I found a lovely little house and we bought it.  In April.  And now that we’ve had time to work on it, I wanted to share some of the “Before and Currents”.  I’m not going to be so bold as to call this group “Before and Afters” because we’re not 100% done, but boy howdy, it’s coming along and looking good.

In the beginning, there was shag carpet, wall paper, and a popcorn ceiling.

Now? Hardwood floors, Gray Owl paint, and acoustic texture on the ceiling. (Apparently, it’s all the rage in Park City.)

The curtains and brass rod have been replaced with…

… new blinds! And hopefully some updated curtains some day.

The bare little corner?

Now our dining room!

Old cabinets, gross sink, kitchen/laundry room?

More like new cabinets, apron front, and goodbye-side-by-side-washer-and-dry-hello-stackable-washer-and-dryer-tucked-in-the-utility-closet-so-I-can-have-my-dream-kitchen!

Once, the stood a giant fridge and a baby stove.

Now a giant stove and room cabinets galore!

I wasn’t a huge fan of how separate the kitchen was from the front room.

So we knocked a wall down and made it so much more “open floor plan!”

Look forward to next week’s (meaning probably sometime mid-2014) installment of House Reno featuring the subway tile in the bathroom and the upgraded bedrooms featuring an office in one and a reading nook in the other.

Hello.  It’s been a while since we last talked.  Figured I should give you a bit of an update.

Me.

• Went to New York for three weeks for training for the new job.
• Ran a half marathon.
• Learned how to “carve”.
• Started a new position (on BHC Reg Cap) at my firm.
• Had two dentist appointments and haven’t had a single cavity.

Him.

• Started a Masters of Real Estate Development at the U.
• Joined a company as the acquisitions guy for all their real estate.
• Traveled to Louisville, Kentucky for a trade show for the company he started…
• …Officially launched his product (crushsmellgo.com).
• Successfully filed our taxes.

We.

• Got a little puppy in October.  Named him Dexter.
• Got a calling for our church to be “workers” in a nursing home.  Greg’s the most recent returned missionary by 50 years.
• Looking to buy a house in Salt Lake.
• Celebrated our 2nd anniversary!
• Fell in love again every day.  Just kidding, but we did watch all nine seasons of Scrubs on Netflix.

A few weeks ago, I went out to Colorado to visit my parents one last time before starting work.  It was perfect timing, too, because my sweet sister, Amy, and her two girlies were going to be there at the same time.  (I only mention that fact so that in case you don’t believe this story, you have someone to contact for validity’s sake.)

One night, after Amy had put her daughters to sleep, my parents and us girls all stayed up talking.  The evening air was still a little warm so we all had ice cold waters to sip on while we chatted.  At one point in mid-conversation, Mom spilled a little bit of water on herself.  She laughed nervously then said, “Well, look at that!  I spilled!  But Frank, so did you!”  She proceeded to pour the rest of her glass of water all over my dad’s lap!

I broke out laughing, thinking to myself why you would just pour water all over someone, only to remember that I had done nearly the same thing to Greg while we were dating.  (But instead of me pouring water on him, I spilled some water on the table, and it spilled onto him so to make up for it, I got a glass of water and poured it on myself.  Oh the crazy things you do when you’re in love…)  I couldn’t believe that my mom had just doused my dad right in the middle of a perfectly fine conversation.

Both of my parents got up to go and change.  But instead of going straight to change, my dad took a little detour to the sink, filled up the cup that had, just moments ago, spilled on his jeans and returned the favor to mom, splashing her front, leaving her entirely drenched.  “Well look at that, Kristi!  Somehow you managed to spill some more even without a cup in your hand!”

I was dying laughing!  I mean, really, who does that?  How many of you can claim you’ve witnessed your parents have a water fight in the middle of the kitchen/living room?  Even though I had noticed that some of the water my dad meant for my mom had gone over her shoulder and right onto my laptop’s keyboard, I was too busy convulsing with giggles that I didn’t really care.  That was, I didn’t care until later.

After all the laughing and conversation had died down, I retreated downstairs with Amy to watch an episode of Sherlock (the PBS show… it’s really, really good.)  I tried typing in “google.com” but it kept coming up as “oolecom”.  I thought that maybe restarting would help, but to no avail.  For some reason, some of the letters just didn’t word.  And that was preventing from watching my show.  Nu-uh, not ok.

After playing a little bit more with my computer, and not being able to figure anything out, I decided to postpone figuring it out until I was with Greg again.  He’s a little bit of a computer genius, in case you didn’t know.  Well, he showed me an “On Screen Keyboard” that I have to use until we figure out a more permanent fix.  But for now, it’s a click on the “On Screen” every time I want to use a g, y, 9, right arrow, or .  Try typing Gregory without the use of those letters.

Oh well, at least it makes for a ood stor

Back when I was a youth, I loved all things interior design. This affinity could have spawned from many experience, but I like to think that my time spent in “Interior Design 1”, a general elective class that I had to take in order to graduate high school, is the culprit. The final project consisted of creating an apartment out of foam board and working with a partner to design one of the rooms. My partner was Rachel Dowd (best friend in the world thanks to ID1) and, after architecturally designing a loft apartment fit for our favorite ANTM model and her photographer husband, we proceeded to decorate the entire thing, not just one of the rooms. It was pretty amazing, if you ask me. (Rather, if you had asked me. Thinking back, it was kind of awful, the things we did to those walls. Decoupage over exposed brick? I mean, really?) But it was fun. And it got me thinking. I was going to put my “education into action” and start re-doing my parents house.

The first room I masterminded was my bedroom. I had just bought this amazing quilt from Target and decided I needed to match the colors on the walls exactly to those on the quilt. (The quilt was a lime/forest/emerald/chocolate geometric pattern with concentric squares. I decided to do chocolate walls with one green accent wall serving as a(n) *insert whatever it is you would need to think in order to justify a limey green accent wall.* And get this—my mom even found a funky Kleenex box that echoed the colors of the quilt and paint so you best believe we used that to decorate the bedside table!

The next room was the guest room. I was really into turquoise and kelly green so I decided to marry them in a horizontal-stripe pattern. This was perfect! Not only did I get to put my Interior design skills to use, but my math skills got a work out as well. I had to make sure that I had an even number of stripes of each color, that I didn’t end up at the end with two stripes of the same color next to each other, that they were all the same width, and that they were all perfectly spaced with two inches between each stripe. It was a math-dream trying to figure out how wide to make each stripe. The highest math I needed to employ was algebra but I would have gladly pulled out Siberia, my graphing calculator, to get the job done. (Yes, I named my calculator. It was all the rage to name your stuff back then. And by that I mean my friends name their ipods, cars, laptops, etc. Since I didn’t have any of those, I felt the need to fit in by naming my calculator.) Once the painting job was done, we balanced out the lively walls with white furniture and some touches of orange (throw pillows and towels… no Kleenex box on this one.)

The last room I did before moving out was my brother’s room. The week before he came home from his mission, my mom thought it would be a good “Welcome Home” present to re-paint his room. She asked me to down the girliness down so I channeled my inner ESPN and got to work. I choose a dusty gray with a cornflower blue horizontal accent stripe. Actually, come to think of it I did two horizontal stripes. So, let’s see if I can visually paint this picture with words. The bottom 2/3’s of the wall was a dark-ish shade of the gray. That block was split up by one blue stripe running halfway through it. At the top of the dark-ish section was another thicker blue stripe, this one separated by two white stripes on either side. The top 1/3 of the wall was the same gray color, only about a shade or two lighter. I accented this one with dark wood frames and a touch or two or sunshine yellow.

The first time I went back to visit, my parents had prepared for me the vertical stripe room. I was still in love with this room and the colors so I was happy to be home and sleeping in one of my favorite rooms! But then I went to sleep. And when I woke up the next morning, my senses were overwhelmed. Waking up from a blissful slumber only to be bombarded with stripes and colors and more colors just didn’t sit well with me. I moved my things downstairs and started lovingly referring to the blue-and-green room as “The Circus Room.” (When Greg came to Colorado for our open house there, he started lovingly referring to that room as “The Crazy Room.” And that’s when he banned me from ever single-handedly deciding how to decorate our future homes.)

I haven’t had much time to get out to Colorado and visit my parents and their fantastically colored-roomed home, but this last time that I went out to visit, I knew I needed to repent.  I knew that The Circus Room could no longer have a place within the Frank Roundy Home and this visit would be the one where I made up for all my past mistakes.  The day after I arrived, I loaded up in the car and headed to Lowes to stock up on paint.  I settled on a soft, springy green, aptly named “Aloe Vera.”  It was the perfect color to help sooth the wounds that I had caused.  With a cart full of paint, a new roller or two, and some FrogTape, I started on my long journey home (figuratively and literally).

The first stoke of paint I put over those perfectly measured stripes pained me a little bit.  Having to remind myself more than once that the time and effort I put into these walls was a sunk cost, I continued.  The “Aloe” seemed to be doing its work, instantly soothing the searing walls, allowing you to open your eyes fully.  No more squinting in the circus room.  Next to the stinging color of the stripes, the new paint barely seemed to have a green tint.  But the Paint + Primer is an ingenious idea; even after one coat, the stripes were starting to fade from memory.  One more coat, and it would be good.  Stoke after stroke of my paint brush, followed by roll after roll of the roller, the first coat covered the walls.  As if spring had sprung, the Aloe Vera gave a sweet warmth to the previously chaotic walls.

Not letting it rest, I continued working, well after the sun went down.  With the melodic voices of N*SYNC to keep me company, I worked by lamplight to finish the job.  (Candlelight would’ve been more romantic for the sake of the story, but heaven knows you can’t paint in candlelight.)  Once the walls were coated a second time with fresh paint, I decided to call it a night.  After rinsing out my tools and returning once again to admire my work, I left the quiet room, slipped downstairs and fought sleep, excited to see what this room would look like in the sunshine.

Morning came and I rushed upstairs.  I grabbed my mom and helped her down the hallway to the closed door.  (My mother is not decrepit.  She is, however, really in to getting surgery and her latest addition to the Book of “Going Under the Knife” was ankle surgery to fix a previous surgery gone awry.)  We opened the door together and, in awe, stared at the beautifully calming walls.  The décor still match so no need for a mass overhaul of accessories and throw pillows.  You could tell, even though the mirror was not hung and the pictures were not displayed, you could tell that we finally had a interior design “hit.”

My mom called me a week or so after I left, telling me about how much she loved the room.  “Don’t get me wrong, sweetheart.  I loved the old one.  It was so… fun!  But before, I would walk by it and it would just startle me every time.   And now, it’s just so nice.  So nice that I think we’ll actually invite family down for Thanksgiving this year!”  I chuckled, feeling that there was a little bit of truth in that statement.  Maybe my interior design skills had kept them from being hosts for who-knows-how-many-years.  But all I knew was that I had fixed the error of my ways.  That no matter what catastrophe I had committed to that innocent bedroom, I could make it right again, with just a few repentant strokes of paint.

“The Spring Room”, as mom so lovingly refers to it now, is simply just a room with pale green walls.  But isn’t it strange how it can mean so much more?

A few weeks ago, my sweet cousin Taylor got married.  I got to go down and represent my family at the wedding, but Greg wasn’t able to come with.  It was a quick trip–I left on a Friday morning and was back by Sunday afternoon.  Even though I wasn’t gone for too long, Greg managed to go see The Avengers with his friend Jared.  His reasoning?  “Well, the movie was half off so I just had to go!”  How did he find half off movie tickets, you ask?  Well, since he had to pay only for himself and not me, that was half the money of  a normal outing, hence why he justified it as half off.

I’m a movie buff and even though I can be content on going to see a movie once it’s in the dollar theatre, some movies just have to be seen in the “real theatres” and I considered the Avengers to be one of those movies.  I was hoping that it would be so good the Greg would want to go see it again and take me this time, but no dice.  Greg had already seen it once and that was good enough for him.  No matter how many times I asked, pleaded, begged, guilted him into taking me to see it, he figured we could just go see it once it came to the dollar theater or-better yet-rent it from RedBox.

A few times, I considered telling Greg that I was going to go run some errands but then just go see the movie by myself.  I thought it a good plan until I realized it involved lying to my spouse, so I never got around to going by myself.  I even told him how unfair it was that he got to go see the “biggest blockbuster event of the summer” without me, but that only egged on his teasing.  (Just imagine Greg saying “biggest blockbuster event of the summer” like Daffy Duck every time I brought up the movie…)

One seemingly uneventful night, Greg started to put on his jacket and shoes.  Thinking we were staying in for the night, I asked him where he was going and he said he needed to go meet with one of the advisers of his company.  I thought it a little strange that he would need to meet with someone at 9 pm on a weekend, but business is business so I told him to be safe and to hurry home.  He gave me a look as if to say “Really?  You really think I would need to meet with one of my advisers at 9 pm on a weekend?” I didn’t understand why he was thinking his response was so ridiculous I would know he was joking so I asked him what he was really wanting to do.  “Let’s go on a ride!  It’s so nice outside and we haven’t explored too much of the city at night so let’s go!”  I obliged and we hopped on his motorcycle and went for a ride.

He took us up Capital Hill, to a spot that overlooked the whole valley.  It was gorgeous seeing the city all lit up, gleaming like the metropolitan it is.  We then rode around the capital and through the quaint neighborhoods surrounding it.  It was the quintessential summer night and I was loving every second of it.  He then drove us over to Gateway (a mall here in SLC) and said it would be fun to see if anything was going on there.  We wandered through the mall (which is outdoors, by the way) and watched all the people as the were bustling about, finishing up their shopping and looking for places to serve them a midnight snack.  We made our way up the elevator and found ourselves in front of the movie theatre.  Greg suggested we go inside to see what was playing.

He walked over to one of the kiosks where you can purchase your tickets (or pick up pre-purchased tickets) and, after inserting his credit card, out popped two tickets for The Avengers.  He handed them to me and I saw that the movie started in five minutes.  I looked up, smiling, so happy to be seeing the movie and he looked right back at me with those steely blues eyes and said “You know I had this all planned out, right?”

So here’s the deal, guys–I don’t have time to blog right this instant but there’s a lot of “potential” stories going through my mind so I wanted to jot down a quick list of what I’m going to blog about in the nearby future.

1. “You know I had this all planned out, right?”
2. Sins Against Interior Design
3. Corporate America and Me
4. The Case of the Broken “Gee, why?”
5. The Claustrophobic and the Decorator
6. Running on a broken leg (Note: this is potential material for Danica’s blog, just saying)
7. Why being young in an old person ward is awesome…
8. Athazagoraphobia
9. Greg’s Side of “The Tale of the Dislocated Rib” (hilariosity ensues on this one, guys.)

See–I told you I had a lot swimming around in my brain.  So, you know, text me and remind me that you want me to blog because now that I’m a nine-to-fiver, I just might forget. Ok, I probs won’t forget, but still text me because I’m an insecure blogger and the more people I know actually want to read this stuff, the more likely I am to blog about it.

Fish, much? (For compliments, that is…)

Did you know that your ribs connect to your spine through a joint?  A joint, like the joints in the shoulders or ankles, that can be dislocated if injured?  Neither did I… until it happened to me.

Back story:  Right after Greg’s mission, he went to visit his grandparents in Costa Rica.  (They were lucky enough to be vacationing there for a few months.)  While he was down there, he rented a surf board with his brother, Kyle.  They pretty much got to be pros at it in one day… or so he tells me.

Proof that my husband can “catch waves.”

When we were planning out our trip to Hawaii, he made it very clear that he wanted to spend a day on the beach surfing.  Last winter, he taught me how to snowboard and so we both agreed that he could probably teach me how to surf as well.  Luckily for us, Greg’s sister Christina has a friend that lives in Lai’e that was willing to lend us her surf board and paddle board.

The difference between paddle boards and surf boards is that paddle boards are more sturdy.  Not saying that surfboards are flimsy by any means, just that paddle boards are a little thicker and longer.  Made so that you can stand up on them and paddle around in calm water.  Also, their sturdiness makes them easier to catch waves with.  With this knowledge in hand, I decided to ride the paddle board and give Greg the surf board.

Getting out past the wave-break-zone was a battle in and of itself.  The little waves would crash and go in to shore… and my board would catch every one of them.  I couldn’t lift it over the waves because I lack upper body strength so I submitted to being tossed to and fro whenever the waves would come in.  Every now and then, I could get it out and ride a little wave in on purpose.  Not many, but enough to know what it feels like to surf.

The beating was taking a toll on us.  Greg decided to go take a break on the beach for a bit but I decided I was pro enough that I didn’t need him out in the water with me.  With him watching me from the shore, I started the “journey” out pass the break zone.

The waves weren’t that big.  Probably similar in size to the waves that Greg was surfing in Costa Rica (see picture above.)  So there I am, sitting on my board, just waiting for a little wave to swell up and take me into shore.  (The board was such that I didn’t really have to do anything to “catch a wave.”  It would just take off.)  There were a few waves that looked promising, but with my lack of help, none of them proved successful.  I heard a low rumble behind me and figure that this would be my ride in.  I paddle a bit only to be crashed on by the biggest wave ever!  Probably a 20-footer.  (Ok I have no idea how big it was considering I had my back to it, but in Greg’s account of this story, the wave was considerably bigger than any of the other waves that day.)

I’m sent head first to the sandy bottom.  My neck hits first, then I’m tossed sideways under the water, hitting my face.  I can tell I’m starting to black out.  I stay under the water, afraid of coming up and getting knocked out by my board.  I need to come up to breath.  What if I broke something, maybe I shouldn’t move.  The black out is coming on stronger.  I really shouldn’t move.  It’ll only make things worse.  Greg saw what happened… he’ll come out and rescue me.

The waves swirled me around.  I held what was left of my breath.  Floating above a shallow, sandy bottom, I wanted to relax into the black.  Suddenly I realized I could die.  Making a broken bone worse was better than dying in a watery graves.  My instincts kicked into action: I jolted up and started screaming.

I could see Greg on the shore.  I could stand, so that was good, but maybe my adrenalin was protecting me, so I still didn’t want to move.  I stood there, screaming, not knowing what to do.  Greg saw the horror in my face and ran down the beach, and into the waves.  He motioned for me to come towards him, but I didn’t dare.  My screaming turned into sobs, my back was killing me.  Greg finally reached me and helped me to shore.

He laid me down on his towel, covered my face with my dress (protecting me from the sun and sand).  After his questions of “What happened?” were met with inconsolable sobs, he ran to get help.  He returned with a man, a “true Hawaiian”, whose first question was “Can you move your toes?”  I wiggled them a bit, still afraid to move.  His response: “She’s good.  Just a little beat up.  I’ve gotten thrown around by these waves more times than I’d like to admit.  But if she can move her toes, she ain’t paralyzed, so your good.”

I didn’t believe him.  My back was still hurting, and my body burned whenever I tried to take a breath.  Greg sat there with me, trying to get me to relax.  “Think of… um… what things do you do to make you relax?”  He paused for a minute.

“Think of your finance homework.”  Really, Greg?  The only thing you think I enjoy doing is my finance homework?  I chuckled at his suggestion and my back flared up.  My cry of pain was responded to with a plead to breath.  “Just relax, Court.  You’re okay.  Just keep breathing.”  He offered to give me a blessing to help with the pain, the anxiety, the everything, so right there on the beach, he laid his hands on my head and blessed me to heal, to relax, to be comforted.

We spent the next while on the beach, not saying much, just breathing together.  He was going to take the surfboard and paddle board back to the car and I figured I would walk with him.  Slow and steady steps took us back to the car.  I sat in the passenger seat as he tied the boards back onto the roof, feeling gritty with sand and aching with pain.   (I was pretty sure there was enough sand in my swimsuit to make a sand castle… just saying.)  He loaded up in the car and we headed back to return the boards.

I kept apologizing for ruining his surfing day.  He kept thanking me for not getting paralyzed.

Once we returned to our base camp (aka Shad and Bree’s house), I related this story to Bree.  Immediately, she said, “Oh yeah, you dislocated your rib.”  Considering she’s been to the hospital her fair share of times thanks to her son Preston’s shenanigans, I believed her and started googling cures for my ailment.  There were a lot of opposing opinions about the best fix, so I decided to go with a tried and true method: Ibuprofen and ice.  At some point, it popped back into its joint, and for the most part, has been good. It’s still tender every now and again.  Sometimes when I move this way or that, it aches a bit.  But hey–at least I’m not paralyzed.

And that’s the tale of the dislocated rib.

I wanted to do a rhyming/rapping title, but turns out, I’m just a snob.

Good news!  The reason why I haven’t posted since March 4th-ish is because absolutely nothing has happened between then and now.  We are still in the thick of things with school, still living in Provo, not really doing much!

PSYCH!  (SYKE?)  Spell check on Blog G&C…

So, we actually are “in the thick of things with school” considering the both of us graduated from BYU a month ago.  Although we both got degrees in business, only one of us rocked the cap and gown.  (It was Greg.)  He’s been putting his education to work by starting up a company.  It’s supposed to be “confidential” but he married a Roundy so I have  really hard time keeping it a secret.  Basically, he’s working with a *undisclosed* company to *it’s-a-secret* the * privileged info* that goes into  *confidential*.  Super exciting, right?  Some vague details that I can say are that his company just landed an investor last week so money is on it’s way… to his business account.  I still am living in the mind set of poor college kid.  That is until…

…I start my job at Goldman Sachs!  The last job update on this blog I think was about me accepting a position at Vanguard in Arizona.  Well… early January, Goldman emailed asking me to interview.  I decided that it would be worth the experience and since Goldman is known for being a little competitive and ridiculous as far as interview processes go, I figured I wouldn’t be put into a position where I would have to choose between the better of two goods.  Well, after two rounds of interviews (which is unheard of!  The interview process usually goes 5-6 rounds) they offered me a job.  With Greg’s company looking more like a reality than a dream, we decided to stay in Utah, thus helping me to make the decision to go with Goldman.  I start on June 18th in their downtown Salt Lake offices.

In order to be closer to my job and to feel like college graduates, we decided to move out of the town of our alma mater and up to the “big city.”  Greg and I found an apartment in the heart of downtown.  Literally.  I’m a five minute walk from the new City Creek Mall and from the Salt Lake City Temple.  We’re loving it up here in down town.  Also… we have a living room!!!  We bought a couch and a chair off of KSL to furnish our new living room and we haven’t sat on anything else since!  Did I mention that the couch and chair are 100% leather (originally from Pier 1) and we got both of them for $50?  That’s what you get for contacting KSL post-ers about 4 minutes after their ad goes live.

Other news: Greg and I went to Hawai’i.  We learned the correct way to say Honolulu (Hoe-know-lu-lu) and ukelele (uhk-eh-lay-lay).  We basked in the sun, snorkeled with the fishes and sea turtles, tried our hand at surfing, danced the luau, ate amazing REAL LIFE Hawaiian shaved ice (Matsumoto’s is amazing), and used up an entire bottle of SPF 50 between the two of us.  (Shout out to Shad and Bree for letting us come and crash at their place every night!  We really couldn’t have done this trip without you.  And I’d like to thank my producer… wait… sorry.)  For the record, Greg got more sunburned than I did.  I might be the child of a red head, but I know how to own the sun.

Other news: back to Goldman.  I have training in New York City from July 17-August 2.  The company will be putting me up in an apartment in Manhattan, and although I’ll have a roommate so Greg won’t be able to come stay with me, he’s going to come visit me for a weekend.  We’re such city kids now.

Life is at full speed right now.  But we couldn’t be happier.

I sat down to study and looked around.  Most of the chairs are empty, and the ones that aren’t have occupants with headphones in their studious little ears.  I decide that it would be okay if I ate my lunch, including, but not limited to, pretzels and an apple.

I slink into my little cubicle and nibble away.  Hidden from the potential glares of by-sitting studiers, I eat. I manage to read a few pages as I take bite after bite into my delicious, juicy, crunchy apple.  The bag of pretzels dissappears quickly and I seemingly inhale those little wonder wands of carbohydrates.  I don’t think I’m being loud and certainly the people around me can’t hear, so I waste no time in eating.  With a full stomach, I throw away my garbage and hunker down to finish up with the workload I have before me.

A minute later, the man to my left takes a break from his menial homework, only to return with a bag of Ruffles brand Cheddar cheese and Sour Cream chips AND a bag of Ritz cheese crackers.  Finding myself without any earbuds to block out my surroundings, I left with a melodious “Crunch, crunch, munch, munch, slurp.” I, too, did not realize that a slurp sound could be made whilst eating salty snacks, but I am witness to it.  He now picks his teeth, wipes his finger off on his jeans, takes another chip, and crunch, munch, slurps it into oblivion.

Karma.  Instantaneous and infinite.

And by challenge, I mean “this really shouldn’t be too hard.”  And may I preface this with I never do things like this.  But because Mrs. Danica Holdaway “tagged” me, I have too.  Because she is my bestie and I love her!

Here are the rules of the challenge: