Monday Confessions

James and I have been married nearly two years. However, for the nearly two years we have been married I have been on some form of contraceptive pill- after all, we are not planning on kids until I am twenty four or twenty five. So we still have plenty of time- three or four years. However, since I heard about Melissa Summers  of Suburbanbliss getting pregnant while on the pill. Link here. And since I have a nice healthy amount of paranoia in my system, I panic about once every three months or so and  take a pregnancy test.

Always negative.

Imagine my concern when, on Saturday night, I was getting ready to go to dinner with my parents, zipping on a skirt, when all of a sudden that skirt felt a little tight around the waist. Imagine my concern when my friend Shannon was brought to mind, telling me that she hadn’t known she was pregnant with her youngest until five months along when she went up a pant size. And since that skirt has always been a little loose on me in the waist region, the pregnancy paranoia set in.

Pregnancy paranoia consists of several components :

1) “That” time of the month, waiting for my Aunt Flo  to stop by. I am under the impression that the dosage has recently been changed to make this slightly later, so usually I am waiting on tenterhooks for Sunday instead of Friday.

2) All sorts of bloating, which again makes me think I am pregnant. (And this week there was the Valentine steak, the four pounds of Valentine chocolate and umpteen corndogs to boot!)

3) Actually wanting to have a baby. Yesterday was a regional church meeting and I saw at least three girls I had known when I was younger carrying freshly minted babies, and oh I wanted one. James is open to having a baby, we are just waiting for the right time financially. I get antsy though, since my mom raised six children below poverty level. Not that I want to. Just saying it’s do-able is all.

4) See three above. Also financial concerns relating to such, considering that my income is also necessary to pay the bills around here. I do my part, you know.

The pregnancy paranoia continued into our after church marriage class, which lasted from six to eight. It was the last session, so it was a little bit longer. But I was concerned throughout, due to the snugness of said skirt and the missing visitor. By the time the new episode of Rome aired, I was set at ease- my Aunt Flo had finally arrived.

You know what all of that means? I am not pregnant, just getting fat. It is time for me to start hauling my behind to the gym and to stop eating all of that chocolate. And cheese. And whatever else I happen to get my hands on.

But that doesn’t prevent me from buying a pregnancy test.

I Hope They Call Me On A Mission

My musically inclined brother Ben finally found out last week where he is going on his Mormon mission.

Macon, Georgia, people.

This is how my highly eccentric seven-year-old brother felt about it.

Pre Wedding Jitters

When I was growing up in the Mormon faith, weddings were generally never public. For the people I knew, they always took place in the temple. That is not a bad thing, especially since it is a pretty important part of Mormon belief. What it means to this post is that I had never been to a wedding with the exception of my own, which took place in a room the size of a broom closet at a wedding chapel setup in Las Vegas across from the Civil Unions Office (They were out to lunch). And since we refused to buy the videotape they so kindly made for us, even after they chased us down the street shouting “Make me an offer! make me an offer I can’t refuse!” I still haven’t seen my own wedding. At least it was a happy day.

I attended my first “real” wedding a month or so later. My husband’s oldest brother Brian and his wife Shari had decided to get married after seven years of living together, to the relief of my staunchly Mormon mother-in-law. Since James and I had been recently married, I was invited by default.

It was a beautiful warm afternoon with only a mild threat of rain. After Jimmy introduced me to some members of his half of the family, he ran off to be one of the groomsmen and sat me next to my sister-in-law, Andrea. Andrea had brought her camera, as did I. She asked me to take a couple of photos for my other sister Aubrey, who was also in the wedding party. I was concerned, because I didn’t know you could take photos at weddings. I took a couple that were required for Aubrey, but I didn’t know I could take any. Later, I asked my mom if taking photos at weddings was an acceptable practice and she told me she didn’t know.

Having only two photos of Brian and Shari’s wedding, I vowed that the next wedding I attended I would take an overload of photos to make up for my inexperience. Because God loves me and also has a sense of humor, few weeks ago my friend Shannon from work asked me to photograph her wedding today. I have purchased a tripod and an extra battery, and have warned her I am no professional.

Weather, please behave.

Lighting, please co-operate.

Hands, don’t drop the camera.

Self, don’t sing karaoke until they pull you off the stage.

About Me

Hi, my name is Jen, and I can write about myself for hours on end. If you read this website, you will learn much more about me than you will ever want to know. But I try to be interesting at least, and I always welcome new friends and ideas.

So now that you know my name is Jen, know this. My full name is Jennifer, and I don’t like going by anything but Jen. Jenni, Jennie, and Jenny are totally unacceptable. Jennifer is the name my mother used to yell at me when I was in trouble. So unless I am in some sort of trouble or you are sending me a bill, don’t bother with Jennifer either.

I am married. My husband’s name is James, but I also call him Jimmy James, and just plain Jimmy. He requested his pseudonym on this site be “James the Conqueror,” and I being foolish, allowed it. We have been married nearly two years after eloping in Las Vegas, Nevada. To those of you who know me personally and those of you who don’t, this means NO ONE WAS INVITED TO MY WEDDING. NOT EVEN MY PARENTS. Or his parents. Or anybody. We now live in a tiny three bedroom house in sprawling, under-construction suburbia just outside a smallish resort town.

Next on the docket of things that need to be covered, I need to mention I am religious. I am a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, also known as being a Mormon. I was raised in a big family with four brothers and a sister. I currently teach Sunday School to three eleven-year-olds with my husband. Those poor children are incredibly outnumbered.

I persue a lot of creative things to off set my boring, childless life in the suburbs. I love to take photos, and I am currently working on making it so that people actually pay me for my photos. If you would like to help a poor, starving newlywed, check out my Flickr and drop me a line. I love all things smothered in barbeque sauce, acoustic covers, and taking photos.