A John Mayer Experience

Michael, Ryan, and I went to the John Mayer concert on Wednesday June 30.  We had decent seats, although Ryan probably would have enjoyed being front row (just to be closer to his, dare I say, man crush).  I don't know, John Mayer does have his good days.  Anyways, we got to the amphitheater just as the the first act was finishing.  I think his name was Brett Dennan, who started at 7:00.  Colbie Caillat went on at 7:50.  She did a really good job and I like the sound of her voice.  It's relaxed and earthy, if that makes sense...but probably not.  And I'm not going to lie, I was pretty jealous that she was wearing a tank top and I wasn't.  It was HOT.  Enough said.  John Mayer was supposed to come on at 9:00.  Ryan and I both commented that we had never seen such long breaks in between acts.  At about 9:03, he came out in all his glory.  The lights went low and every girl was screaming like crazy...especially the girl right behind us.  A guy came out, put a guitar over his shoulder, and started to sing.  I was really confused for a few minutes as I tried to figure out who was singing.  Here is the description of the person who was on stage: shaved head, baggy black tank top, black cut off pants, and tennis shoes with the biggest tongue I had ever seen.  Well, it was in fact John.  I was expecting at least a t-shirt and jeans.  I decided later he was probably just trying to keep things interesting while on tour.  Dressed up or not, he was awesome.  He played "Say," which I really like.  He wrote it for "The Bucket List," a really good movie that made me cry, cry, cry.  John also played a new single (which features Herbie Hancock) called "Stitched Up."  It's a fun song and sure to get your toes tappin!  Ha.  But really, you should check it out on itunes.  Then, as if the concert wasn't enough, there was a potential for two fights to break out.  Both involved people standing while everyone else was sitting, making it hard to see the stage.  

It was a great concert!

My Nursery Experience

I am no stranger to the nursery program.  Ryan and I were nursery leaders in our ward in Provo for 6 months.  It was not uncommon for us to be the only adults in there with about ten kids.  But these were no ordinary children; they were first borns of BYU parents.  If you don't know what that means, I will explain.  One little girl would point and make an "oo-oo" sound, much like that of a monkey, indicating that she in fact wanted that particular toy.  One little boy would stand in the middle of the room, mouth partially open, with drool dribbling down his chin, and eventually onto his clothes.  We were warned when we first came into the nursery that he ate crayons, so he only got one during coloring time.  One day he was using a purple crayon, and the next thing I knew, he was drooling purple.  I wiped his face off with a paper towel and noticed chunks of crayon on his tongue.  I told him to open his mouth and I wiped off what I could.  There was another little boy who had a complete change in attitude when he came back from Christmas break.  He was a fairly mild mannered boy who turned into a terror.  He was taking toys from other kids, bashing their heads into the Fisher-Price play house, and hitting.  At one point I took him out of the room, sat him in my lap, and crossed my arms over him so that he couldn't move.  He wasn't too happy.  I tried to tell him that he wasn't being nice, blah blah blah.  Then Ryan popped his head out of the door and said, "It sure is fun in here without Isaac."  At the end of nursery that day, Isaac was the last one waiting for his parents.  Ryan then found it appropriate to say, "Isaac, do your parents not love you anymore?  Is that why they haven't come and picked you up?"  I'm pretty sure Isaac didn't know what was going on, so he should still grow up and be fine.  If anything, maybe he needed a little tough love now and then.

When we moved into this ward, we were called to work with Jessie.  We would often take her into the nursery because she liked to play with the toys and have singing time.  At that point, nursery wasn't so bad.  But it has changed.  On Sunday I got a call from Edwena asking if I would sub in nursery (thanks Julie).  As soon as I stepped foot in the door, there were about four kids crying their eyes out, one kid puked green puke all over the door, and there were toys everywhere.  The other leaders had their hands full with crying children, so I reluctantly wiped up the vomit.  Most of the kids turned out fine, they either stopped crying and found something to do, or would cry every once in a while and stop a few minutes later.  But there was one.  One boy who I had never seen before and who was the hellian of the nursery.  If he wanted a toy that someone else was playing with, he would yell "Mine" and try to take it away.  I got after him a few times for it.  He would then hit kids on their backs and faces, or grab their cheeks or back of their necks with his nails and fingers and squeeze and twist.  The other ladies weren't really punishing him at all, but when I got stern with him at one point, they said I could put him in time out.  Now, a quick side note.  I have no problem with discipline.  But, you never know how the nursery is going to be.  In Provo, you had to sanitize the kids hands before they ate their snacks.  We had to take the kids to the parents if they had to go potty.  And some parents didn't believe in a physical type of punishment.  That's why I didn't quite know how to handle the situation.  Anyways, I took him over to the corner and sat him down and told him he couldn't move.  I sat down next to him and started playing with another kid.  After only a couple of minutes, he started to cry louder and the nursery ladies asked, in a kind of guilt-filled hippie-parenting way, if I was going to let him out of time out.  So I did, even though he should have sat there for much longer because he went right back to being a jerk.  Then it was singing time and he did not want to participate.  We started without him and he stood up and said repeatedly, "No.  I don't want you to sing.  Stop it."  Needless to say, I was so relieved when the two hours were over and I could go home.   

Grandma and Grandpa Tawney

My Grandma Tawney passed away two years ago today. My Grandpa Tawney soon followed a day and a half later. I was really close with the both of them and I still think about them all the time. Grandpa was born July 1933 in Virginia. His family were the caretakers of a lake resort in the mountains (you might know it as the place they filmed Dirty Dancing). My Great-Grandpa died, leaving my Great-Grandma and the kids. Since my grandpa was too young to work, his mom sent him to live with his aunt and uncle. He called his aunt and uncle mom and dad. Grandma was born October 1933, also in Virginia. Her family life was also a little interesting as her mom died and her dad remarried. Grandma and Grandpa met in high school. He was the cute football jock and she was the quiet girl. Grandma liked him but thought nothing of it. They became high school sweethearts and were married (he had graduated and she was still in high school). Different times. My Grandpa joined the military and they had three children, my mom being in the middle.
My Grandma was the best cook ever and she passed it down to my mom. She always made sure there was gravy at every meal, just for me. A sample meal time would be fried chicken, mashed potatoes, gravy, biscuits, salad, vegetables, and fruit. She never measured anything. I get my love of cheesecake from her. If my mom told me I couldn't have a piece of cheesecake, Grandma would tell me to get one as well as one for her. She was always properly dressed and had a beautiful traditional home. She always said that when she died she wanted her hair colored and styled and her makeup done. She constantly talked about dying and her spot on the hill, which I hated, and would yell at her (nicely) to stop talking about it. While Ryan and I were dating, I was talking to my mom on the phone and in the background I heard Grandma yell "Has he kissed her yet? Is he gay?" Oh Grandma.

My Grandpa loved to watch Westerns and you could sometimes catch him watching Jerry Springer. He liked going into town to talk with the other old men. He would pick up Hardees for us for breakfast, or donuts. Grandpa used to work for Virginia Tech and gave me a really nice pen from there, and I think that is why I wanted to go there so much. He used to tease me all the time, saying I should put a sign on my butt that said "Wide Load." Whenever I answered the phone or got on the phone with him he would say "Hey boy." I would yell at him (once again, nicely) and tell him that it was me. He knew who it was, but he also knew he could get a rise out of me. He would motion to me to come over to him as he pulled money out of his wallet. He would give me a 20 dollar bill and tell me to not tell my little brother. He did the same thing with Josh too. My mom took me to the airport to go back to BYU after my first Christmas break, but we had to meet my dad and Grandpa at the doctor's office in order to say goodbye. Grandpa once again pulled out money from his wallet for me.

They were funny, loud, loving, used the occasionl swear word, and really were the best grandparents ever.

My mom was with them when they died. They both had been fairly sick for a long time. The doctors said Grandpa wouldn't live through the weekend. Grandma passed first. She wasn't supposed to go at all. My mom said Grandpa knew she had gone and that the veil was very thin that day. He knew he could go.

Things That Go Bump In The Night

The title might sound a little riske, but it is purely innocent...well, mostly. It all started when we lived in Provo. Ryan and I were asleep one night, as usual, until I slowly woke up to a "clink" sound. I rolled over towards the center of the bed and felt around; what I found was the shell filled glass vase from Ryan's nightstand. The flowers that were usually in the vase were placed seemingly carefully on the bench at the foot of the bed. I was too tired to deal with it then, so I moved the vase to the floor and went back to sleep. The next day I told Ryan all about it, all about him putting the vase in the middle of the bed and the flower on the bench. He claims that I did it however; that I either reached across him in the middle of the night or walked around to the other side of the bed. Both are ridiculous. We have argued about it ever since.
The next time something weird happened was here in Mesa. We have a collage of decorative metal pieces over our bed that make up a kind of faux headboard. One of the pieces is a picture frame that hangs right over Ryan's side of the bed. I couldn't sleep one night so I went into the living room to watch TV. When I came back into the bedroom, the frame was placed on my pillow. You might think that Ryan bumped it and then sleepily put in on my pillow, but it was just too perfect. Once again, he tries to blame it on me, but I wasn't even in the room.
The third "bump in the night" does involve me, and only me. I put on my pajamas and went to bed. Fine. When I woke up in the morning, I had an itch on my leg, so I scratched it. It felt funny and then I looked down under the sheets. I wasn't wearing my shorts! I tried to remember if I woke up during the night and took them off...but no. I didn't do anything, except for take off my shorts and I don't know why. I found them laying next to the bed in front of my nightstand. I don't know.

Game Night

I have recently deemed Tuesday night to be Game Night. When we were at BYU, we had game nights with the neighbors. One couple, Matt and Doreen (who were awesome) introduced us to the card game Nerts. There were times we had 5 or more couples playing the game, cards going everywhere, people yelling, arms flailing. Anyways, for the past two Tuesdays, Ryan, my brother Michael, and I have been playing Nerts. Ryan normally hates to play with me because I usually beat him. It's a really fun game that doesn't require too much logic (which, when I was in high school, my dad informed me that I had no logic). Afterwards, I built a house of cards and it stayed up. It was made from the whole deck!

Holy Cow

Two Sundays ago Bro.McKay called 20 minutes before we were going to leave for church and asked if we could come meet with him.  Of course my heart was racing as I knew it was most likely something concerning a calling.  We have been in the ward for a couple months over a year and we have been called to work with Jessie and to be Webelos leaders.  On the way to church, Ryan was trying to temper the water by mentioning the worst possible callings so I wouldn't cry in the meeting (Relief Society teacher, Primary president, etc...).  After a few minutes chatting, Bro.McKay finally said it.  "We would like to congratulate you two for the work you have done with Webelos and give you the new calling of Cubmasters."  My first reaction was to say "Holy Cow!" since "Holy Crap" probably wouldn't be that appropriate in such a setting.  I am 21 years old and am destined to be in Scouts for my whole life.  So now Ryan and I are the Cubmasters, and will continue to pull double duty as Webelos leaders until someone else is found.

Independence Day

Yesterday was Independence Day, the 4th of July.  Our holiday started very early, about 6:10 for me and 6:30 for Ryan.  We had to be at the Dobson Ward 4th of July Breakfast at 6:45 so that Ryan and three others could pull in one more practice as a Barbershop Quartet.  That's right.  Our ward parties are always huge undertakings and can get a little crazy sometimes.  When we got there, my brother Michael and I got roped in to helping with balloons and strings.  The party started at 7:00 with a flag ceremony starring the cadets from Luke Air Force Base and the singing of the National Anthem.  The music for the song sounded like it was coming from one of those little keyboards we used to play with when we were kids.  The ones that had the one song where you could just push a button and it would play, and you would pretend like you were playing it.  Anyways, we sang, listened to some policemen, firemen, and a man who gave a speech.  I don't know who he was, but he was kind of monotone.  I was sitting next to my little friend Truman who turned to me and whispered, "He sounds like he HAS to give the speech."  There's a lesson for all of us...when we are asked to do something, lets act like we get to do it, not that we so painstakingly have to do it.  After the speech, the main guest of honor, Sheriff Joe, said a little something.  Apparently, the lady in charge has been trying to get him to come to our little ward party for years.  He came last year, and obviously this year as well.  Last year he spoke for literally 60 seconds and then left.  Needless to say, Ryan and I were not impressed.  However, this year he talked for a few minutes, and it was good.  He redeemed himself, especially because he and his wife (who is being covered up by a balloon in the picture) stayed for the whole thing.  The final act to go on before breakfast was the Dobson Ranch Barbershop Quartet, as they were so falsely called.  Let me go back a couple of Sundays.  We sat down for Sacrament Meeting and read through the program.  There was a flyer inside advertising for the 4th of July Breakfast.  On it was a list of people who would be appearing, and the Dobson Ranch Barbershop Quartet was one of them.  I turned to Ryan and said that I didn't know there was a quartet in Dobson Ranch.  Then after church, Ryan explained that he was asked, "Do you sing?," then responded with a "Yes" and was told that he would be in the quartet.  Three other guys in the ward were asked the same thing, and ta-da, the group was formed.  They practiced for three hours total, wore paper vests and styrofoam hats as costumes.  They did a good job.  (Their order in the picture is Chris, Travis, Ryan, and James.  James is partially covered with the streamers.)  Later that night we went to see Hancock; it was pretty good.  Then we drove around to see the fireworks that were going on all over the valley.  I love fireworks.

Lastly, I want to say thank-you to some people.  Thank you to all the men and women who volunteer to fight for and defend our country.  Thank you to my Grandpa Stevens and Grandpa Tawney for serving in the military.  Thank you to my dad for being in the Air Force for 20 years and for being the best dad ever.  Also, thank you for being ready to go to Desert Storm (luckily you didn't have to go).  Thank you to my brother Michael for serving in the Air Force.  Thanks for going over to Korea and doing whatever top-secret stuff you did.  I guess I'll never know, but thanks anyway.  Thank you to my brother Christopher for being in the Marines and serving two tours in Iraq, including the Triangle of Death, and for coming home safely.