a list of things i refuse to compromise:

oh, love. here it goes.

-his & her garden hoes.
-dimple kisses before sleep.
-white linens.
-babies with sticky jam hands and chubby cheeks...with your dimples.

all other things, subject to discussion.

love, love,
your dimple kiss enthusiast.

and then i wrote a bunch of words down for you all to read, and you did. you read them. actually, i don't know if you did or not.

there are times when i choose to move back up to logan for various reasons.
most of them so abstract, stressful, and unrealistic, i can't even figure out why they exist at all.

others highly comforting, exhilarating, relieving, and pretty much downright fantastic.

this is one of those times.

the bad news, however, is that i am currently homeless, i have to quit my job, and i just registered for a world archaeology class.
i needed twelve credits, and decided it would be a good idea to register for school just one month before it starts.
hence. archaeology. 

excited, nonetheless.

also, this is relevant again.
so that's just super. 

more to come, i'm sure of it. i'm bubbling with angst-y dumb stuff to write, and i think to myself on a daily basis, "i should blog about that". but then i never do it. because my life revolves around teenagers. and name tags. knee length skirts. giving candy to keep my boys awake during firesides. and day dreaming about naps... and other stuff, too.

well, no. mostly just naps.

featured.

today, i was featured on this blog.

amanda was so kind to have me over there.
i'm really excited about the piece i wrote, and honored that she had me guest post for her while she has been gone. check it out!

in other news, i'm not exactly sure where my life is headed at the moment, last night, i bought one too many photo apps for my iPhone, i lost most of my cell phone contacts (one in particular), and i shower way too often.
but life is just moving right along, anyway.

hope your pioneer day is full of fireworks and heritage.

the end.

it's monday, and i'm not wearing a maui blue polo. something is fishy.

this post is mostly to let you all know that i have not died. i have not given up on blogging, nor have i joined a convent. i have been eating equal parts starbursts and cafeteria food, as well as pretending that five hours of sleep is sufficient when it's not. and never will be. over the past two weeks, my knowledge of two things has grown immensely: patience and One Direction. neither of them my choice. and while we're on the subject, YOLO. because when is that not appropriate?

i've only shared milk once. and it was on a saturday.

he asked me what i wanted, and the answer was banana pancakes.
the answer was always banana pancakes.

he never tickled me because he knew how i hated shameless flirting. but he took a sip of my milk, and somehow that was okay.

"there's something adorable about the way you talk with your hands when you give me directions. and how you start every sentence with the word, 'just'," he said. and then he told me that i looked pretty, and it felt different than times before.

from the kitchen, i heard a familiar tune. waterfall, john schmidt.
a long, lost love of mine.
this time, though, sweeter than i'd heard before: taller, deeper, and with blue eyes this time.
by the end, i couldn't remember its former facilitator, or even the song itself. lines blurred, and i could recall only the one sitting before me. one i should have always preferred.

our puzzle piece dimples, nearly symmetric. each of us owned only one. his was bigger, but that was okay. someday, i plan on being the little spoon, too.

he wanted to teach me to drive a stick shift; he wanted to stay out with me all night.
after i'd sat down too close to a sprinkler head, my hair dripping with mountain runoff, he did "the thing".
you know.
"the thing" he does to the hair in your face right before he takes your lips?
well, he did that to me.
and then he left my lips alone.

but let's not get so hung up on the things he did do.
because you can't fall in love on a few more saturdays, and that seems to be all we've got.

a letter from future courtney to the courtney that exists today:

man up, you weirdo.
grow a pair.

also, future you uses some pretty feisty phrases. sorry.

but seriously.
rub some dirt in it.
you're embarrassing me. 


love, love,
the-you-that-finally-got-it-together.

p.s.
learn to be me. practice on saturday.

not that it has any relevance to my life, but it is wonderful nonetheless.

let's not jump the gun....

summer is far from over. 

but i'm just saying, 

this song is on repeat.

and i'm in love.