Summer, slushies, and sunsets

I haven't been in the blogging mood much lately. It's not due to a lack of time; in fact maybe the overabundance of free time I've had lately is making me feel a little... blah.

Seminary starts in two weeks, and although that partially makes me freak out a little bit with all the things I need to do to prepare, I'm also looking forward to having something to occupy my time. And trust me, seminary is very good at that, meaning I will probably be whining about how stressed and busy I am in a few months. (Go ahead, judge me. DO IT.) Also, fun fact: I accidentally wrote "busty" instead of "busy" at first and it made me giggle.

Moving on.

Summer is in full swing at our humble abode. Here's some of the signs of summer around these parts:

• Slushie/vanilla malt/oreo mcflurry runs. All day erryday. Sometimes I feel bad when I go on one of these runs when Dallin is at work, but clearly not bad enough to stop it. (Sorry babe!)
• Never wearing pants (or any other unnecessary layers) in the house if I can help it. It gets too dang hot to keep them on! Unfortunately, the UPS man seems to time his stops at our house perfectly with No Pants Time, so I've started keeping an emergency pair of shorts around just in case after having an awkward experience in which I hid behind the couch after we had made eye contact. Because I'm that smooth and totally not a weirdo at all. (False!) 
• Spending lots of time downstairs, where it is much cooler. Unfortunately since this is where our TV is I usually end up wasting too much time vegging out on the couch. Working on that. (which is why I'm blogging as I sit on said couch watching TV... because somehow that makes it okay, right? Right!)
• Thoroughly enjoying afternoon monsoons. One of my favorite things about living in AZ! I absolutely love how it makes my house smell.
• Eating outside on our brand new deck furniture! We got this a few days ago and I might not eat inside ever again. 

We live on a bit of a hill, so the view from our deck involves surprisingly few houses, and lots of trees, peeks of distant mountains, and a painted sky every evening at sunset. Last night was especially beautiful, and the fact that it was lightly raining, our bellies were full of our amazing homemade pizza, and I had that cute husband of mine holding my hand made it the best.

I'm looking forward to many more lovely summer (and fall and winter and spring) evenings with him. He makes my life pretty darn happy indeed.

Better enjoy the beautiful summer while it lasts... I am not ready to trade my summer wardrobe of t-shirts/sweats for dresses/skirts once seminary starts, but I guess I'll probably survive. Wish me luck! ;)

That one time I hugged a Russian man

I spent a semester teaching English in Russia about a year and a half ago. Besides the fact that it is one of the coolest, most amazing experiences I've ever had, it was also a steady stream of fantastically awkward situations. Seriously, it was almost daily. I could probably start an entire blog just devoted to the many embarrassing moments I enjoyed whilst in Mother Russia. 

Nevertheless... there is one that takes the cake. 

Let me preface this by telling you a little bit about the bus situation in Voronezh. We had to take the bus if we wanted to go anywhere that was too far too walk, and that was pretty often. The buses are kind of small, have a distinct stench smell, and the windows are so dirty you usually can't see through them. Also, they tend to be extraordinarily crowded, meaning you are really lucky to get a seat. Usually you get the privilege of standing with your fellow passengers pressing you on every side. If you are really lucky, you might get squished between some stinky, fat Russian guys.

I got "lucky" a lot.

A typical Russian bus, except this one is too clean. Imagine it is covered in 20 years of grime.

Yes, he is talking on the phone which he answered right after he threw his cigarette out the window. I love Russia. 

One evening after school, three of us headed to the church to play some volleyball. All was going splendidly. Volleyball was every Friday night and signified the end of a week and the beginning of the wonderful weekend... yippee! We waltzed down to the bus stop and when our chariot arrived we climbed aboard.

It was pretty crowded, which was usual at this time of day. Unfortunately, I was so excited to get to volleyball that I forgot to get my 11 ruble (that's about 35 cents) bus fare ready so I could hand it to the driver on my way in. No matter, I said to myself. I'll just dig it out of my coin purse while we're driving and have someone pass it up.

The next few seconds are a bit of a blur. I took advantage of a red traffic light to release my grip on the one of the poles we relied on to stay upright so I could get my coin purse out. That was my fatal mistake. As luck would have it, the second I let go the bus lurched forward and I went careening with flailed arms towards the herd of people on the bus behind me. In my frantic attempts to catch myself, I managed to end up kneeling on the ground with my arms securely wrapped around the torso of a rather large Russian man and my face smashed in his soft, smelly belly.

Oh, sweet heavens above.

If one could die of embarrassment, I am confident I would have shriveled up right then and there. The split second I spent there felt like decades. I picked myself up, choked out an apology (Thankfully I knew how to do that in Russian), and then put the nail in the coffin by going into a fit of uncontrollable nervous laughter.

And that, my dear friends, is the first and last time I hugged a Russian man. 

Stalkers vs. Stockers

Random story of the day: A couple of years ago, I was shoppin' away at Target. I think my mom sent me to pick up some things since it is a lot easier for me to make a quick trip to the store than it is for her since she comes with a herd of wild animals children.

(Just kidding... they really are pretty well-behaved kiddos :P)

I was trying to find a lip to fit the rubbermaid container I wanted when this guy (who didn't appear to be an employee) came up to me and asked if I needed help finding anything. He was acting weird and attempting to be flirty, which is probably why I didn't understand the next thing he said at first.

Here's what I heard:

"I'm a stalker."

What he actually said:

"I'm a stocker."

Thankfully, he clarified his meaning when he saw the confused look on my face.

"I'm a stocker... I stock the shelves. It's my day off."

That makes much more sense, wouldn't you say? I love English...