Year 21.

Year 21 was rough.  I blame it on Greg.

Greg got home from his mission on July 10.  I turned 21 on August 1.  I went back to school sometime between that and the beginning of September (remember I had been in Ecuador and then flew back to Seattle to stay with my parent for a few weeks before school started again).

I made the huge mistake of offering to pick Greg up at the airport as he was also coming back to school.  It was too much.  Rather than going on a real date, it's like we went right back to where we left off, only two years later--we were no longer teenagers and were different people.

We dated for two weeks before he broke up with me.  That was horrible.  And that is when I lost all the weight I'd gained in the Amazon.  Two weeks later we were back together.  Which lasted another two weeks before I broke up with him.  Two weeks after that I was ready to start again, but he wasn't and then it was Christmas.

Meanwhile, I was finishing my last semester of course work at BYU.  I wrote my senior thesis about my great-grandpa Melvin Henry, for whom my Henry is named.  I entered that paper in a writing contest and won $150.  I bought myself a new outfit and a hair cut.  The rest of my classes were a blur because my romantic life was such a wreck.  I had a difficult time focusing in class and felt like I was walking around is a cloud of mush most of the semester.  It was horrible, but I learned a lot about being alone and the comfort of the Holy Ghost in our darkest, numbest, most disconnected times.  So school was...school.  I was still TA-ing for PS 100 and History 202, so between two jobs and a full class load, I had plenty of reasons to stay in my happy spot--the library.  I was still running too, but Pierce had gone a mission so I was running alone.

Luckily for me, that year I had some really good roommates.  I was living in University Villa, across the street from my previous apartment complex. My roommate, Julie, of the previous three years was just about engaged to a boy I wasn't a fan of at the time (I've since changed my opinion of him), so had decided to move in with his sister.  And I wanted to live with mine, so we parted ways.  That year, I lived with my sister Amber, our cousin Elizabeth, Amber's roommate from the previous year Corrine, Amber's friend from high school Kristi, and one of Corrine's friends from high school Natalie.  I was the oldest one in the apartment by two years, which meant I was able to maintain the aloofness that I found suited me so well the year before.  The other girls made friends with a group of guys, one of whom eventually married my sister, and I hung out with them on occasion, but I also kept up with some of my friends from the previous year and spent a lot of time drowning my sorrows in the library.

Kristi, me, Eric (one of "the guys"--also a BYU cheerleader), Amber

To cheer me up after the first break up, the roommates all took a drive up the canyon one Sunday.  Natalie, Corrine, Amber and me.

My FAVORITE dance of the year--Monster Mash.  Amber as Wilma Flintstone, me as a mermaid (I spent weeks making that costume), Kristi as Sherikai, Elizabeth as a newsie, and Corrien and Natalie--don't remember what they were.  Greg showed up to the dance dressed as a greaser because I was obssessed with The Outsiders that year.  He was trying to win me back. 

My aunt Deb got us all tickets to the First Presidency Christmas Devotional--see what I mean, I had great roommates that year.

Christmas break came and I went home to Seattle.  It just so happened that my best friend from high school--good old Tommie--had also moved to Seattle. We stayed up late talking one night.  She gave me the best advice ever: if I wanted to date Greg but didn't want the pressure of getting married (remember this is BYU we're talking about), I should date him in secret.

Amber, Tommie, me and Jessica (Tommie's sister) on New Year's Eve in Seattle

And that's what I did.  Winter semester I did my student teaching.  I taught American Studies, which was an advanced English/history class to eighth graders and I taught on the east side of Provo, which meant I had all the rich, smart kids in my class.   Really though, one kid had an indoor basketball court and pool.  Another was the son of the offensive (or was it defensive line?) at BYU.  It was stressful, nerve-racking, energy-sucking, infuriating, but I had a good mentor teacher and I survived and had two job offers at the end of the year.

First day of school picture

I don't remember who called who first, but Greg and I met up for Subway one day after school, when my roommates would not expect me to be home and near the school where I was teaching.  I didn't tell my roommates.  Then we met up again.  And again.  Always at Subway.  And slowly we built a real relationship built on mutual admiration, rather than on expectations of friends and peers at school.   Valentine's Day, we went on our first date that I told my roommates about.  We decided to get married on Greg's 22nd birthday but didn't get officially engaged until April.

Shortly thereafter, I graduated from BYU.  Then I spent a month doing a long-term substituting job at the school I had done my student teaching and finishing up a few independent study classes I had started the year before.  Then I went to Seattle to pick my mom up to go to Ecuador for about two weeks (I had decided to go back during one of the periods Greg and I were not together).  Shortly after returning to Seattle, Greg came out to Seattle and went though the temple with me.  Then he flew back to Utah and I drove out with my parents and Tommie.  And then, a month before my 22nd birthday, Greg and I got married.  We spent the rest of the summer riding our bikes around Provo, swimming, and grilling at the single's complexes.

Graduation

Me and Juan Jose, one of the babies I wanted to adopt.

Davide--the cutest baby ever.  Also wanted to adopt him.

Sight-seeing with Greg in Seattle (why do I look drunk/stoned in all these pictures?)

Signing the marriage certificate

Last picture single

first picture married

Only picture of the honeymoon (I forgot to clear my memory card before we left--oops)

And thus began, what I will call the good/bad years.