Is this how it feels to be grown up?

I guess I'm grown up...

I'm out of high school.  I am financially responsible for myself.  I'm taller than 95% of the parents I know.  I'm far past being legal (age wise) as far as the law is concerned.  Im getting married in less than 3 months.  Yup, it seems that most people would consider me a 'grown up'.

It's strange, really.  I mean, sure, according to the above-mentioned facts, I'm a grown up, but I still have a lot of kid in me.  Just take a look...

I like to act like a raptor.

Sometimes I have crazy hair and make faces to match it.

I enjoy having 'crazy face competitions.'

My brother Brandon and I, we love to be insane and make people laugh.

I mix it up when I can.  

There's a bit of inconsistency here: reason tells me I should be grown up, yet it's undeniable that I'm not wholly ready to be the boring-kind-of-grown-up.

This is my mom.  (Well, my mom, sister, and me if you are going to be specific.  But my mom is in the back.)  She's VERY grown up, and I'm pretty sure she would never do any of the things I did in my pictures.

When I was younger, I always thought that when I grew up I would be just like my mom!

I don't know how I expected to get there, but I just knew that when I was grown up I would know how to cook, clean, manage children, be a good wife, be the kind of mother she was, know all the kinds of good questions to ask at the doctor's office, sew magnificent things, everything like that.  Yet here I am; apparently grown up, and I can do some of those things, but it's just not anything near what my naive childish mind thought, years ago. {Yes, I am somewhat like her already.  I catch myself saying things she does verbatim, like "They're both good in their own ways" and "That's not a very wise choice, is it?"  I just wish I could be more like her in the cooking sense...}

So I guess for now I'll say that I'm partially grown up...  But not all the way...

Who do they think they are?!

A few days ago I was at the gym. Yeah, the gym. I go through phases of being a gym person-sometimes I'm hard core and feel great, and other times that's one of the things that doesn't make it onto my priority list. Well, seeing as it's summertime I have a little more time that usual, so my friend Tessa and I have been going regularly for the last couple months. [okay, I'm going to be completely honest with you, it's not just because it's summertime that I've been going to the gym more... I'm getting married in 90 days and I need to look good. If you know what I mean...]

So earlier this week after doing some cardio. I sat down at a weight machine to try to define my pitiful excuses for muscles. Well as I started lifting I was feeling particularly bad about myself and my body. At first I didn't know why, and then out of the corner of my eye, I saw this...



And this...

WHAT THE HECK?! Right? Who do those weight machine manufacturers think they are?! It was as if I had seen these pictures without realizing it and my subconscious mind was saying "Lift all you want Lindsey, but you're never, NEVER, in a million years going to look as good as this computer generated, buff, incredibly defined, strong, man."

Sure, it's great to know which muscles each machine works out [I really do love that], but they should have created someone slightly fatter, or at least uglier... I mean give the guy a really hairy chest, some moles, or a growth of some sort.

Well those little pictures got me to thinking and I decided to look around the gym with new eyes and see what else they had lying around there-waiting to make unsuspecting fools feel bad about themselves.


A scale, now that's quite typical for a gym. And I actually think this is a good idea. Get on the scale, and one of two things happens: "Wow, coming to the gym is really paying off! I'm dropping pounds! I'm going to keep this up!" or the not so great "What?! How did this happen? I can't possibly weigh this much! I've got to step it up here at the gym, and start working harder!" Come to think of it, there might actually be a third response to stepping on the scale, "Oh, it's no use..." Regardless, I think the scale is an appropriate thing to have in a gym [unlike that wretched muscle man plastered on all the machines].


They also had these two machines sitting casually in the corner. I don't blame the water machine for being there-that's healthy, though pricey-but I hate his friend. I don't know who in their right mind is going to go to the gym, have a good workout, and then buy a soda on the way out the door. Isn't that slightly oxymoronic? Burn the calories, them put them back on before you're even out the door...


FREE WATER! That's a good call. Probably my favorite part of the gym to be completely honest. Unpresumptuous. Humble. Non-judgmental. Calorie free. It doesn't tell you you're not working hard enough. It doesn't look way better than you ever could. Yeah, definitely my favorite part of the gym.

**Side note: People think it's strange when you take pictures at the gym. Especially of things like soda machines and scales!**

If it were a contest, I'm pretty sure I would win!

Disclaimer: This post is not intended to hurt anyones feelings, make anyone feel bad about their current situation, think less of themselves, have feelings of jealousy, or wish they could be in my situation. Take note that it shouldn't, but it probably will...

Disclaimer 2: I NEVER wanted to become a sappy person, or be categorized with those people, so I hope this post doesn't make me one of them in your mind.

My fiance, he loves me.


Right now you might be thinking something like, "Lindsey, you're getting married to this guy, and will be with him FOREVER... so I hope he loves you!!!"

But when I say that my fiance loves me, I'm not just saying that he loves me a little bit, or that he's fairly fond of me... What I mean, is just what my title said--if being loved were a contest, I'm pretty sure I would win!

Let me illustrate:

I'm lactose intolerant, yet I really like to eat Frosties from Wendy's. Tanner {that's the name that belongs to my fiance, for those of you who don't know}, he loves me so much that when I am really craving a Frosty he'll get one and let me eat a few bites--enough to satisfy my craving, but not so much as to make me ill. Then he will eat the melty remains whenever I decide I'm done. He's a good man.

I have often hear the stories of women who say that their men/husbands/fiances/lovers/whatever-it-is-you-want-to-put-in-heres don't tell them they love them very often. It's always the woman saying "I love you" and the man has a hard time expressing him emotions. Not Tanner: he reminds me often that he loves me. [And when I need it, he reminds me why he loves me].

I could call Tanner anytime--day or night--and he would be okay with that. He wouldn't be angry or upset at all.

Tanner, he can read my moods. If we are chatting, he can tell just by looking at me if I have suudenly changed moods and something is not okay: that, my friends, is a talent. Not only can he read my mood in person, but he can do it over the phone as well. I have no idea how he does it, but he can tell the good silences from the bad ones over the phone! It's a miracle really!

I like to be strong, and cry in front of VERY few people. Tanner makes me feel comfortable enough that I can cry in front of him. And when I cry for stupid reasons, I mean really stupid reasons--like how much I hate not being able to eat ice cream, how sad it is to see a one legged bird at Sonic, or for absolutely no reason at all--he doesn't make me feel dumb for it. He makes me feel like that is a perfectly okay thing to do, and he will just hold me and be there for me. That, is love.

Tanner always lets me choose things, like what we're going to do, or eat, or see. Yet when I am having a really hard 'decision making day' he can tell, and he'll make the choices {though probably just so he doesn't have to see me cry for 'no reason at all'...}.

One of his goals is to make me laugh because he loves to see me happy!

And above all, he would do anything for me!!! In case you don't believe that last statement, I have a story to prove it:

{When we were a bit younger and unbetrothed, my friend Camille and I talked about asking out future husbands if they would take our last names, instead of us taking theirs. While Camille was engaged she asked Poor Kyle, and I got the biggest kick out of her story, so I decided that I just HAD to do the same thing someday. When 'someday' presented itself, I just couldn't pass up the opportunity. [And I promise, I'm not normally this greedy!]}

One late night Tanner and I went for a Jack in the Box taco run in my trusty car Stella


As we were sitting in the car munching we had a conversation that went something like this:

Me: Tanner, I have something I need to talk to you about...

Tanner: Yeah, anything. What is it?

Me: Well, you know how we've been talking a lot about marriage lately?

Tanner: Yeah...

Me: Well, Before it goes any further, I think there's something that needs to be brought up.

Tanner: And what's that?

Me: I have been thinking A LOT. You know how much my last name means to me, right...? I mean being a Burnham is a big deal to me--I'm really proud of all that stands for.

Tanner: Okay. So what exactly have you been thinking?

Me: Well, I don't know if I can give up my last name... I don't know if I'm ready for that.

Tanner: I see.

Me: So... I was thinking. What if instead of ME changing my last name, you changed YOURS!

Tanner: {awkward silence} Umm...

Me: What if you became Tanner Burnham?

Tanner: Uhh....

Me: Do you hate my last name?!

Tanner: No! Of course not... Why? Do you hate mine?

Me: No... You know what, never mind. Just forget it. I don't want to talk about this any more...

Tanner: Come on Linds. We need to talk about this. It's obviously important to you and I want to work through it.

Me: Tanner Burnham doesn't sound bad! I mean that's almost what my nephew was named... or we could hyphenate: Burnham-Layton or Layton-Burnham. Unless you just totally hate the idea all together...

Tanner: I don't hate the idea, it's just a lot to take in... I mean it's nothing I've ever thought about. My whole entire life I just thought I would keep my name just like it was.

Me: Tanner, we don't have to talk about this right now... I mean it's not a big deal.

Tanner: No, I want to talk about it right now. Tanner Burnham... Hmm... Tanner Burnham...

Me: Oh, just forget it... It doesn't matter.

Tanner: Lindsey, I don't think you realize how much I love you!! Sure, changing my name is something totally unexpected and a big change, but if that's what I need to do for you, I'll DO IT!

Me: Are you kidding me?!

Tanner: What? {So confused... poor guy}

Me: That's just ridiculous!!!

Tanner: Wait... {Really confused...}

Me: I would never really ask you to to that. I just wanted to see what you'd say!

Tanner: {still a bit confused} So you don't want me to change my name...?

Me: Nope.

You see that!!! He loves me enough to change his name! ...That's a LOT! {We look back on that story now and laugh! Good 'ol Tanner Burnham}

Yeah, he loves me a lot! I guess it's a good thing it's not a contest, because then everyone else would feel bad... haha. Tanner, You're amazing! I love you!

Yeah... Pretty sure that was a bit on the sappy side...

Not Living up to its Potential...

I've been a terrible blogger lately...  I've had lots of good ideas for blogs, but that's just the problem: they haven't made it past the idea stage.  It's a shame really.  I could have an INCREDIBLE blog--one of the best out there.  I'm just not dedicated enough.  I know a few people who are really dedicated.  SO dedicated, in fact, that they not only have one blog, or two blogs, but THREE!  Yeah, I could never be like that...  This one, scanty, sad, little blog that I have is hardly surviving.

So here I am, typing away, trying to redeem myself, even though I know that I'll never be as good as some.  Some who get what seems like millions of comments on each post.  But then again, other blogs are deserving, consistent, and thoroughly entertaining.

The other day I was at the gym and I came up with one of the most entertaining posts ever in my mind!  I thought about telling you guys about how my arm muscles are disintegrating, about an incredibly uncomfortable encounter {or rather lack thereof--it was mainly him staring and my doing everything in my power to avoid his gaze} with a decrepit, middle-aged man, and about how I could totally have the body of a supermodel if I loved exercising as much as i loved stretching.

I could tell you about the other night when I dreamt that I ran a 5K  with my shoe laces untied, carrying a 30 pound inner-tube around my middle, with Michael Scott as my running partner {and my miraculous finishing time of 11 minutes...} 

I went to the dentist today and got two fillings without getting a shot and getting my mouth numb.  I could tell you about that little experience.

I could tell you about the time my incredible brother Brad took bridal pictures of me up in Heber, AZ and we had about 25 people honk at us.

{A picture is worth a thousand words, eh?}

I could tell you about going on the family computer and taking copying some of Brad's pictures so I could have them on my computer, and how he called then "contraband pictures", and how that's probably the first thing he though when he saw the above picture!

I could tell you about all the incredibly funny conversations Tanner and I have on the phone.

We got our house sprayed this morning.  We have been having problems with ants.  Many of then have decided to take refuge on my window sill and are climbing up my wall to reach this safe-haven , much to my absolute disgust and horror. I could tell you about that.

I could tell you about how I am SO INCREDIBLY ADDICTED to So You Think You Can Dance it's ridiculous and I've watched this clip on youtube probably 50 times...

So many things happen in my life.  I have impeccable storytelling skills, wicked writing wit, and a sensational vocabulary.  My poor blog...  It could be so amazing...