Mooching, Smooching, and Bacon

So, I really haven't done very well lately at blogging. The last time I posted was in July!

Updates on our lives:

We're still poor struggling college students. Which, I really think, is a heck of a lot of fun.

It's quite ironic that there is a pile of wrinkly clothes in the corner. Pun intended. We prefer this use for our ironing board.

You know you're a college student when your phone autocorrects "haha" to "fafsa." Thanks Uncle Sam for funding this week's meal of rice and beans! And thanks to our parents for letting us mooch off your washer and dryer.

A few weeks ago, my dad asked some cousins that are freshmen at USU if they liked smooching. There was an awkward silence until I realized that my dad meant mooching, not smooching.

Coming home from a nice leisurely visit with our parents.

Someday, when we actually have an income, I will miss the creativity of no-budget dates. For example, our Valentine's Day date was paid for by my quartet performing for a fancy dinner at the Heritage Center. (Check us out at juniperstringquartet.com)

At first I was kind of bummed that my quartet had a gig on the grand celebration day of love, but then they offered to feed our spouses and I realized how relieved Brad was not to have to plan a date.

Speaking of holidays, I wanted to take this opportunity to brag about the most amazing Christmas gift I have ever received. My brother-in-law Bruce Ferrin made this for me.

I'm not an amazing photographer, but you can still see how beautiful this is. Bruce is so talented! And so sweet to spend so much time on a gift for his sister-in-law.

Speaking of bragging, I just wanted to invite anyone who is reading this to come to the Kent Concert Hall at 7:30 p.m. on February 27th to watch me perform the Mendelssohn Concerto in E minor with the Utah State Symphony.

Rehearsing a couple weeks ago.

And to counteract all the bragging, the most beautiful picture ever taken of me.

My Halloween costume: Frida Kahlo

In other updates:

Brad turned 25 and celebrated with donuts and shooting things.

We grew a lot of vegetables this summer.

I learned how to make peach pie and lentil loaf with mixed success.

And our cute cousin really likes bacon.

The Sketchiest Gal in All of Kaysville

Whoa, it's been a long time. Hello world of the blogs! Remember me? I don't know why I haven't posted in so long, my shenanigans are by no means at an end. A couple weeks ago while I was baking I turned to Brad and said, "Hey honey, I haven't made a big mistake while cooking in a while!" And then I left the cookies in the oven for about an hour...

Oh, yeah... And this gem of a key lime pie. That worked out well.  Not really.

This summer we are again back in Farmington. This time we had connections (Thanks Brecklyn and Bruce!) and were able to find a studio apartment that would rent to us for just four months. There are lots of great things about our studio apartment:

1) Murphy bed! There's nothing quite as exciting as wondering if you're going to fold up into the wall as you sleep.

2) Vacuuming takes about three seconds! There's probably 10 sq. feet of carpet not covered by our furniture or our laundry (which reveals the mountain of laundry I need to haul over to my parents).

3) Only four dark scary corners! One night when Brad was camping and I was home alone, I came home at midnight after watching a movie. It was very dark, empty, and creepy but it didn't take any time at all to check all the potential hiding places for murderers. Heck, we don't even have a shower curtain! Count your many blessings.



This summer we have happily gained a new family member, the most beautiful baby nephew in the world.

I'm not kidding you, this kid is advanced. I mean I don't actually know anything about child development, but I'm convinced his smiling ability is above average.

Sorry about the quality of this picture of my sister, but M's annoyance at the abundance of kisses from his teenage aunt was too good to pass up.

And we happily/sadly/proudly (there are lots of mixed emotions here) lost our sister Teresa to do missionary work in Indiana. Before she left we celebrated by doing all the sketchy things you can do in Kaysville, UT. We started out at Beto's, that hub of Mexican food that will leave you in the bathroom for days.

Teresa just could not handle the spicy.

Brad, Teresa, and I all ordered the chile verde pork burrito. Sounds great, right? No. I am a girl who likes her spicy food. I can handle quite a bit. But that burrito was the spiciest thing I have ever partaken. Within two bites my face was covered in snot and tears running without control. I didn't even know my face contained that much liquid. We all ended up jealous of Heidi's plain ol' bean and cheese burrito monstrosity.

Our next stop was Family Dollar, where we bought our washable tattoos. Let me tell ya, Bradley was pretty attractive with Cinderella on his bicep.

Brad ponders the irony of Family Dollar selling cigarettes for more than a dollar.

We played a hilarious game called, "Who can find the awkwardest thing in the store?"

Brad's nomination for "Who can find the awkwardest thing in the store?" Cream deodorant called "Tussy."

Heidi's nomination for "Who can find the awkwardest thing in the store?" The pushiest-up bra I've ever seen. No one really wanted to model this one.

Our next stop was the sketchiest place in the whole town; Cosmos Video. Possibly the only place in Kaysville that actually reeks of smoke, the lighting is so dim you actually have to squint to see the movie titles.

We rented Alfred Hitchcock's Rear Window. Sketch, I know. We actually ended up watching an edited version of The Hangover, which truly is about as sketchy as I get.

Heidi found a hole in the fence between Cosmos and the bank next door. It being sketchy night, she couldn't resist.

Now, you may bask in your jealousy of the Clawson's. We know how to party. And how to overuse the word "sketchy."

The Top 9 Reasons January Is Ruining My Life

Winter has always been one of my favorite times of year. The snow, sitting inside with a thick quilt and a good book, Christmas, skiing, there are so many wonderful things about it. But not this year. The cold is ruining my life. I'm convinced of it. For example:

1. Do you know what mice like to do when it gets cold? Move into poor, unsuspecting couple's basement and eat them out of house and home. Okay, just a graham cracker box and a bag of pancake flour, but still. Mice bring disease, too.

2. There's nothing that is quite so romantic as your husband screaming and jumping away from you when you touch his face because your hands are too cold. Even footsie has been banished until Spring. My feet are too cold, even with socks.

3. Winter makes me look and feel fat. Thanks Christmas for putting on those few pounds that make my clothes uncomfortable. And then I have to layer clothes like I'm an onion and my husband tells me I look like a babushka. His compliments keep getting more and more creative.

4. Inversions make me really, really sick. The only thing that really helps is my handy-dandy inhaler, except I didn't realize I was accidentally using an old one that expired in 2010. I used it for three days before noticing the expiration date. I'm just going to blame that idiocy on the lack of oxygen to my brain.

5. Speaking of inversions and how sick I've been, my orchestra conductor has scheduled a performance of Rite of Spring next month. There's nothing like atonal music, harsh repeated rhythms, ritual sacrifice, and death to go with a headache.

6. All these things put me in a very negative mood. I realized this the other day when I was sitting in my Music History class and I had to restrain myself from turning around and chastising the guy behind me for being too enthusiastic. The story may be interesting but the constant "Ooh, that's so interesting," is just brown-nosing. Come on, it's too cold to be happy!

7. The cold has kept me from achieving my New Years Resolution of getting in shape. It is just too frigid to drive to the heated gym.

8. Ice on the inside of the windows of your apartment. I thought basements were supposed to be insulated.

9. Pulling a nice, fresh, clean pair of socks out of the dryer and they're even colder than your nearly frostbitten toes.

All this considering, maybe this was the wrong month to devour 850 pages of Tolstoy.

There are a few things good about the last month.

1. The third floor of the engineering building has a beautiful view when there has been freezing rain and people have a tendency to fall on their rears while walking to their classes. I don't even know why people pay for Netflix.

2. Brad's sweatshirt is incredibly comfortable. I wear it every time I get sick. I'm sure he loves that.

3. Hubert. Hubert is my space heater. We are very good friends and we get to spend so much time together this time of year.

4. Realizing that I do indeed have the best husband in the world. He scrapes the windshield, changes the air filter, makes me soup, holds my hand when I am coughing up a chest full of mucus (was that a gross enough image?), takes me ice skating, makes fun of me when I get too self-conscious about the way I look, buys me new nail polish just to make me feel pretty, does the dishes, brings me Hubert and a blanket every time I shiver, and laughs at all my jokes. Take that married girls! My man's the best one. I love being the best, or in this case, having the best.

5. My new blender Brad gave me for Christmas provides all the vitamin C I've been getting lately. I don't know if I really love smoothies or if I just love watching my insanely talented blender obliterate everything I chuck inside it. The brand is called Ninja for goodness' sakes. That fruit and ice never stood a chance.

6. I really do love winter sports. Even ice-skating, which is sissier than my other favorites, but still fun. But no one will ever know how much fun we have when we go because there is no one to take our picture and we're really bad at taking our own pictures. Case in point:

This is why people double-date.

How a vending machine almost made me fail Music History I

Vending machines and I don't get along. They're thieving, abusive miscreants. That's how I've always felt about them. I've had very few good experiences with them. Not even their bounty of peanut butter m&m's can make me like them. More likely than not they take my hard earned cash and keep it without giving me anything in return. And to me, that's a real offense, my penny pinching would put pre-transformation Ebeneezer Scrooge to shame.

That explains why they're thieving miscreants, but why are they abusive? Let me tell you. Once upon a time, I was a sweet, innocent, little freshman who just wanted to get a scantron to take her History of Jazz test. The Book Store was packed with people so I chose to use the handy-dandy student oriented vending machine across the hall, which holds scantrons, blue books, granola bars, pencils, and pretty much anything a student would want. She put her $1.50 in and watched her pack of scantrons drop. She put her hand into the slot to grab it, but it would not come out. It was too big. It would not come out. I was reminded of when I read Where the Red Fern Grows in elementary school. They caught raccoons by putting something in a hole that the raccoon would want, their paw would fit on the way in but the hole wasn't big enough for them to get their paw out while holding the treat. That day I was a raccoon. I would not let go, I wanted to take my test! So I pulled and pulled and pulled while astonished passersby gave me looks I'll be telling my therapist about twenty years from now. Eventually my desperate endeavors bore fruit. I got my scantrons but I left a good portion of my skin behind.

My relationship with vending machines went downhill today. This morning I could not find a blue book for my music history final. For those of you unfamiliar with the world of higher education, blue books are a torture device favored by professors. Of course it would be unreasonable to allow us to take exams on our very own lined paper, we (under threat of failing) must use university-approved lined paper. I would understand it if they passed the blue books out right before the test. That would insure that no one would cheat and write things down beforehand. But we provide them ourselves. Great logic, professor.

Blue books look something like this:



Because the university book store is not open in time to cater to panicked students taking 7:30 a.m. finals I was forced to use the dreaded vending machine once more. Upon arriving I encountered two other students who were having troubles with the vending machine. However, I had already fought with this vending machine and come out conqueror so I stepped up to be the hero. No such luck. I tried to buy 3 packs of blue books (five in each pack) and they all got stuck. They were wedged between the glass and the scantrons so we tried to buy a scantron. Silly desperate students. It didn't work. So I tried buying a pack of the smaller blue books. They too got stuck. Getting desperate I attacked the vending machine with every ounce of ferocity I possess. I kicked, I shoved, I reached up into the belly of the beast. By the time I was thoroughly exhausted they began to fall. Triumphant, we grabbed them and passed the pack of five around to the (conveniently) five people waiting.

And that is how I got one blue book for the price of 20 (plus one pack of scantrons.)

Enough with the gratitude!

Last week I mailed the last of my thank you cards for my wedding presents. They have all been composed, addressed, stamped, and mailed. (Except for about a stack of ten belonging to college students that have moved.) Let me tell you, it was a fantastic feeling. As I handed the stack to the smiling post man (who kindly congratulated me for the feat of handwriting 150+ cards) I felt as if there was a weight lifting off my shoulders. As long as they weren't done I could not be at peace. There was always one more thing on my to do list, and my OCD did not appreciate the line on my list with no check next to it. Not that I actually get my to do list done now either, but I could!

I had the best of intentions of writing them all within three months of getting married. I wanted to be that girl. I had an image of one of my mother's friends getting my very timely card in the mail and saying, "Oh, what a sweet, perfect girl for being so grateful. Her mother obviously raised her right." Sorry mom. I failed you. Rather than getting them all in the mail within three months, as every etiquette book I've ever seen decrees, it took me eight.

I literally had nightmares about these thank you cards. I imagined ladies in my parents' ward meeting for Relief Society and comparing what I had written to each of them.

"My word! A truly grateful young lady wouldn't have written us all identical cards!"

I'm sorry! I got in a rut on my thirtieth card of the day! Dream-self responds.

"She only wrote three sentences to me and four sentences to you. She must not have liked my gift as much."

I loved it, I was grateful. I promise, I promise!

"She told me that 'every little bit helps.' She obviously didn't appreciate my sacrifice to give her a gift."

That was my husband that wrote that. See the man-like handwriting? 

Logically, I knew that no one, especially not the sweet wonderful women of the 21st Ward, would ever compare or complain about thank you notes, but I still worried over every sentence, agonized over every word choice, and generally drove my husband nuts.

But that is all over now. I can now agonize over how awkward I am in my new calling, ward choir director. I really hope that every one knows how incredibly grateful I am for their generosity. The checks and cash we were given paid for our first month of rent. The kitchen appliances make it possible to make a lot of things from scratch, which saves a lot of money for poor starving college students like us. The gift cards keep us clothed and fed. I'm honestly not sure how we would be surviving without the combined generosity of family and friends. Every little bit did count. Thank you!

The Ol' Ball and Chain

Everyone always jokes that when you get married you become chained to your spouse. I dare to disagree. To me, marriage is freedom. Freedom from social norms, mostly. Freedom from staying up late when you don't want to, freedom to do homework on a date, freedom to tell your date to do the dishes from the meal you made; it's great! I really don't feel like I'm chained to Brad, except for that one time when we were actually chained together.

That is a bike lock 'round our waists. And no, I am not a hobo, despite my cardboard sign. (I had four signs: "Trees=Life," "Trees have feelings, too," "The future is green," and "Save the Trees.") For my Grandma Julia's Halloween Party Brad and I dressed up as a tree and a tree hugger. A quick trip to the D.I. and the park was all we needed to create this wonderful getup. We may not be fancy, but we're cheap! We also learned that it is really hard to find fallen branches that actually have pretty leaves still stuck to them, so those leaves are attached with scotch tape. Pretty brilliant I would say. Though this is probably the last time I can convince Brad to wear a headband.

It was rather a successful day. Which is pretty great because this semester has largely felt like this:

Like I'm a buffalo walking against traffic. I miss last school year. Life was blissful, full of new love and cheesiness.

Days filled with sunshine and ferris wheels.

We're still in love, but reality has entered the picture. All of a sudden we have to do homework, and practice, and chores! Which we did last year, too, but somehow it seems like we had time to do other things. I was excited a couple days ago when I had time to actually go to the grocery store, but then I forgot what I was doing, drove to the University (which is the only place I ever go), and sat there confused until I saw my grocery bags and remembered where I was supposed to be.

Only 3 1/2 weeks until Thanksgiving Break, and then 2 more weeks of classes. The end is in sight.

The Grand Adjustment- What you have to get used to when you get married.

Brad and I have been married for six months as of yesterday. Although we've been extremely happy, so much so that we hear people gagging wherever we go, there were a few things that made our lives harder, funnier, or just different. Such as:

1. Sleeping in the same bed as someone else. (This is only what happened for the first few weeks. We have compromised.)
1.  Getting ready for bed: Kenzie: Can we fall asleep while cuddling? Brad: Well…um…how about we just hold hands? Three o’clock in the morning: Brad: I love you so much that I’m going to cuddle with you and stroke your hair and play footsie with you. Kenzie: I was sleeping here, stay on your own side of the bed!
2. Sleep Talking.
1. Brad: We have to save the paper, Kenzie! Kenzie: Why do we have to save the paper? Brad: For the bullets!  Kenzie: What bullets. Brad: For the targets!
2.  Shaking my shoulder Brad: You have to be careful. You’re dangerous. Kenzie: Why am I dangerous? Brad: …
3. Getting ready for bed: Kenzie: More blankets! More blankets! Brad: Are you crazy? My proteins will denature! (Brad would like to point out that he doesn’t know what proteins denaturing means and that he did not actually say those precise words.) Three o’clock in the morning: Kenzie: I’m going to suffocate! Brad: More blankets! More blankets!
4. Playing tug-of-war with the blankets in the middle of the night and then having to wake up your husband because there is no way you’re going to win.
5. Getting ready for bed: Kenzie: I’m so glad we’re married. Three o’clock in the morning: Kenzie: There’s a man in my bed! Why is he there?!?! Get out, get out, get out! Brad grabs my hand and shows me my ring, Brad: See! I married you. I’m allowed to be here. Go to sleep!  

2. Sleeping Habits.

1. 10:45 p.m.: Brad: The night is young! The stars are bright! Kenzie: zzzzzzzzzzzz
2. 6:30 a.m.: Kenzie: Oh what a beautiful morning! Oh what a beautiful day! Brad: I don’t want to get up and I don’t want to be happy and LET ME SLEEP!

3. Style choices of your spouse.

1. Brad: Don’t you think you have too many shoes? Kenzie: Is this really the man I married? You should know better than that.
2. Kenzie: You’re so wrinkled! I look like a terrible wife. Can I iron it for you? Please, please, please? Brad: No.

4. Cooking together.

1. Kenzie: I’m a terrible cook! Brad: It’s okay, you’ll get better. Kenzie: Valiant effort. This is the part where you say, “But it was delicious, my dear sweet perfect wife!”
2. Kenzie: You can’t mash potatoes with a hand mixer! (You can’t open a can with a hammer, you can’t put pancake flour in pizza dough, etc.)  Brad: We Clawson Men can.

5. Saturday night at 10:30. Wife is sick and sleepy but just realized she has run out of...ahem…well…feminine products. What do you do? You go to the store. It’s not so hard until you get to that long aisle chock full of cranky women and brands you’ve never heard of before today. And then you have to scan up and down the aisle for the brand your wife told you specifically to buy.

6. Bad moods. Kenzie: I’m fat and ugly and I don’t know why you wanted to marry me. Sniff, Sniff, Sniff.

1. First month of marriage: Brad: That’s so not true! You’re skinny and beautiful and I love you!
2. Sixth month of marriage: Brad: Here’s some chocolate and a chick flick. And now I will cuddle with you and stroke your hair.

7. Man size proportions.

1. I had pretty much gotten used to cooking for one. Now I cook for two, which means cooking five times as much as I did before.

8. Cold water.

1. Out of the four places we’ve lived in the last six months, two of them have had the hot water go out while we were there. We’re cursed.

9. Each other’s families.

1. Borrowing your husband’s phone, finding “Mom’s Cell” in contacts, then realizing halfway through your conversation that you are not actually talking to your own mother, but your mother-in-law.
2. Calling your brother-in-law (Bruce) your husband’s name (Brad). Or worse yet, calling your husband your sister’s name (Brecklyn). Too many Br’s.
3. Moving in with your in-laws and sharing a bathroom with three girls; your wife, and two sisters-in-law.

10. A new name.

1. One Week After Marriage: Meet a new person, Kenzie: Hi, I'm McKenzie Smith. Ten minutes later conversation still going, Kenzie: Just kidding! Just kidding! I'm not McKenzie Smith! I'm McKenzie Clawson. Just got married. Whew. Weird.
2. I'm pretty expert into turning an S into a C, because I always, always, always start signing Smith first.
3. Person on the phone: Hi, is this Sister Clawson? Kenzie: Actually this is her daughter-in-law, would you like her phone number? Wait...Oh yeah, yeah, that's me.