Last night I went on a date. It was a first date with a girl in my ward. We went to the Draper temple open house. Everyone told me it was a bad idea; they all said, "Kyle, that's gonna be really awkward! Don't make it a first date." I, of course, in my typical style, disregarded everything anyone had to say about it, and we went on a date to the temple.
It was a very nice date. Nothing awkward or dramatic about it. In fact, I've never been on a date that went so smoothly and hitchless. I only mention it on this blog so that you can know that occasionally, every now and then, when the moon is in the right phase and the stars and planets align just so, I can pull off a good date.
Thought you should know.
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
Sunday, January 25, 2009
A politically offensive post
I fully expect that this will offend some of my politically active friends, but I think it's at least mildly entertaining, so I'm including it. This is my journal entry for last election day (4 Nov 2008). At the time, I was really interested in a girl named Betsy, and that's why this entry reads the way it does.
At the top of the page, I attached my "I Voted Today!" sticker, and then I wrote this:
---
5:17PM
And do you know why I voted today? It certainly wasn't because I liked the candidates (tirade on that to follow shortly). It wasn't because I wanted to show good faith in The System because, frankly, The System sucks! It's broken and corrupted, and I seriously considered following Shawn and Joel in not voting to express my view that The System is down. What moved me to the polls today wasn't even my sustaining of Church officials who condone and encourage political activism (though, in retrospect, that might have been a nobler motivation than mine).
I went and cast my vote for John McCain because Betsy says she likes him.
And you wanna know another thing? I don't feel bad about that at all. I have a notion that I ought to feel like a cad, but I don't. Here's why:
Although it's a syntactic oxymoron, I consider myself a radical conservative in that I want small government: unless I am directly threatened by something that I cannot protect myself from, I want government to stay the heck out of my life. Because of this, I am rather upset with the Republican party right now: they've done a lot to grow the government and to expand the executive power in the past eight years, and I find that abominable coming from a so-called conservative group. Therefore, I wasn't too hot on voting in another GOP candidate.
Barrak Obama (Democratic candidate and media poster child) is far worse, though, because of his socialist ideals. Nevertheless, I considered voting for him for a while because most of his promises could only be fulfilled by acts of Congress, so he struck me as fairly harmless; I thought he'd be a nice figurehead to oversee the continuing downfall of this proud nation. But after a political discussion with Betsy on the phone a couple weekends ago, I realized that voting for a candidate whose politics I unilaterally disagreed with was a bad idea, even if I doubted his ability to enact any of his bad ideas--what if he did?
Then I was fairly resolved to vote for a third party candidate just because I feel like that's the really the only way to make my vote count anyway (true, chances of a third party candidate ever getting elected are infinitismal, but it was a big deal a few years back when Green Peace got enough votes to become federally recognized; I'd like to participate in something like that). But looking at the Utah ballot quickly dissuaded me: Socialist party (no good), Green Peace (blah), Ralf Nader (not my guy), Libertarian (don't like 'em), and the Constitution Party (I like the party, but their condidate's leadership credentials are limited to the fact that he's had his own Baptist churhc in Florida for the past couple decades--no political experience at all).
So John McCain it was. I don't mind him; I just hate his party. But Betsy likes him, and I look forward to honestly telling her I voted for her boy.
That's me.
11:12PM
So. Obama won.
After watching McCain give his concession speech, I called Betsy:
"Howzitgoin'?" I asked.
"I'm pretty good," she said. "But I think I'm going to hold a wake."
We left politics almost immediately and had a most delightful conversation that last nearly an hour (50 minutes and someodd seconds), which I felt very good about.
Except for that it never came up--who I voted for--I never said.
And that's that, I guess.
At the top of the page, I attached my "I Voted Today!" sticker, and then I wrote this:
---
5:17PM
And do you know why I voted today? It certainly wasn't because I liked the candidates (tirade on that to follow shortly). It wasn't because I wanted to show good faith in The System because, frankly, The System sucks! It's broken and corrupted, and I seriously considered following Shawn and Joel in not voting to express my view that The System is down. What moved me to the polls today wasn't even my sustaining of Church officials who condone and encourage political activism (though, in retrospect, that might have been a nobler motivation than mine).
I went and cast my vote for John McCain because Betsy says she likes him.
And you wanna know another thing? I don't feel bad about that at all. I have a notion that I ought to feel like a cad, but I don't. Here's why:
Although it's a syntactic oxymoron, I consider myself a radical conservative in that I want small government: unless I am directly threatened by something that I cannot protect myself from, I want government to stay the heck out of my life. Because of this, I am rather upset with the Republican party right now: they've done a lot to grow the government and to expand the executive power in the past eight years, and I find that abominable coming from a so-called conservative group. Therefore, I wasn't too hot on voting in another GOP candidate.
Barrak Obama (Democratic candidate and media poster child) is far worse, though, because of his socialist ideals. Nevertheless, I considered voting for him for a while because most of his promises could only be fulfilled by acts of Congress, so he struck me as fairly harmless; I thought he'd be a nice figurehead to oversee the continuing downfall of this proud nation. But after a political discussion with Betsy on the phone a couple weekends ago, I realized that voting for a candidate whose politics I unilaterally disagreed with was a bad idea, even if I doubted his ability to enact any of his bad ideas--what if he did?
Then I was fairly resolved to vote for a third party candidate just because I feel like that's the really the only way to make my vote count anyway (true, chances of a third party candidate ever getting elected are infinitismal, but it was a big deal a few years back when Green Peace got enough votes to become federally recognized; I'd like to participate in something like that). But looking at the Utah ballot quickly dissuaded me: Socialist party (no good), Green Peace (blah), Ralf Nader (not my guy), Libertarian (don't like 'em), and the Constitution Party (I like the party, but their condidate's leadership credentials are limited to the fact that he's had his own Baptist churhc in Florida for the past couple decades--no political experience at all).
So John McCain it was. I don't mind him; I just hate his party. But Betsy likes him, and I look forward to honestly telling her I voted for her boy.
That's me.
11:12PM
So. Obama won.
After watching McCain give his concession speech, I called Betsy:
"Howzitgoin'?" I asked.
"I'm pretty good," she said. "But I think I'm going to hold a wake."
We left politics almost immediately and had a most delightful conversation that last nearly an hour (50 minutes and someodd seconds), which I felt very good about.
Except for that it never came up--who I voted for--I never said.
And that's that, I guess.
Take a hike!
This comparatively unexciting story comes to you courtesy of my journal entry dated 27Aug08:
---
Yesterday, I went over to Cinnamon Tree to visit Apartment 55 (Mailee, Jill, Amanda, Jaime, and Sarah). I had promised them (well, Mailee and Sarah) that I'd drop by to perform my monologue for them. When I got there, Amanda came out of her room and said, "You wanna go on a date?"
She wasn't really asking me out: some guy who just moved into CT asked her out, and they were gonna go hiking in Rock Canyon, but she didn't want to spend a first date (with a guy she'd just met) alone out hiking around, so she was looking for someone to double with them.
Jill and I took the job.
William (Amanda's date) showed up shortly thereafter, so I performed my monologue for him and the 55-ers, and then we went hiking.
It was... nice....
Frankly, I think William is a weirdo, and I don't blame Amanda for not wanting to be alone with him.
---
Yesterday, I went over to Cinnamon Tree to visit Apartment 55 (Mailee, Jill, Amanda, Jaime, and Sarah). I had promised them (well, Mailee and Sarah) that I'd drop by to perform my monologue for them. When I got there, Amanda came out of her room and said, "You wanna go on a date?"
She wasn't really asking me out: some guy who just moved into CT asked her out, and they were gonna go hiking in Rock Canyon, but she didn't want to spend a first date (with a guy she'd just met) alone out hiking around, so she was looking for someone to double with them.
Jill and I took the job.
William (Amanda's date) showed up shortly thereafter, so I performed my monologue for him and the 55-ers, and then we went hiking.
It was... nice....
Frankly, I think William is a weirdo, and I don't blame Amanda for not wanting to be alone with him.
Sunday, January 18, 2009
Blind date wedding
This story features good ole Confuzzled. Because she has only existed (as far as I'm concerned) outside of cyberspace for one day, this record, rather than coming from my journal, is brought to you courtesy of my Gmail account.
---
It all began with this excerpt from an idle Gmail chat had on 9/13/08:
confuzzled: So I've decided there must be something in the water around here . . .
A couple days later (9/15/08), this Gmail chat occurred:
And so we went to the wedding. It was pretty much the maiden voyage of The Manimal, and it was a blind date with someone I met online--really, there was all sorts of potential for really horrible, awkward, random, painful, hi-larious things to occur, but I regret to say that it went off without much of a hitch (except for the wedding, I guess. Get it? They got--hitched! Ahardyharhar...). There was that one part where I got us lost in a sprawling field and we ended up at the tollbooth entrance to an island and had to turn around and search for a freeway, but even that wasn't too bad because we had plenty of time to kill between the wedding and the reception anyway.
At the reception, they had a guy making balloon animals--balloon butterflies, I might add! They also had complimentary bubbles for all the guests--bubbles, I say! It was pretty much the best reception ever.
Unfortunately, after I took Confuzzled back to her place and then returned to Provo, I developed my first symptoms of salmonella poisoning, so my journal doesn't record many details of the actual social excursion. Just as an aside, though, Confuzzled looked smashingly good in blue. (Are you blushing, Confuzzled?)
So there you have it.
---
It all began with this excerpt from an idle Gmail chat had on 9/13/08:
confuzzled: So I've decided there must be something in the water around here . . .
Everyone I know (my roommates aside) seems to be getting married this summer/fall
10:38 PM I just got another wedding invite in the mail
Except it's a Catholic wedding
That will be a new experience for me
I've only ever been to non-denominational weddings
me: Oh
Getting married is--
I dunno
10:39 PM The cool thing for twenty-somethings in Utah, it seems
Did you know that?
confuzzled: I had noticed, actually
me: I thought you lived in this state a long time....
confuzzled: I've never lived anywhere but this state
10:40 PM I'm just irked because the invitation for the wedding and reception said "Katie and Guest"
me: And you've made it this long without drinking the water?
You must be thirsty
confuzzled: Well, it's mostly college friends . . . so it's something that must have been added to the water in Ogden recently
me: Whatever you do don't drink it
Could be
dangerous....
=)
10:41 PM confuzzled: Well, since I live in Salt Lake, I needn't worry about drinking the Ogden water
me: Oh
right
...silly me...
So all these people getting married are in Ogden?
You have--a lot of connections there?
10:42 PM confuzzled: This particular couple is getting married in Layton . . . but they met in Ogden
And their reception is actually at the Weber Alumni Center
10:43 PM me: It's a Catholic wedding, and it isn't in a church?
confuzzled: The wedding is in a church. The church is in Layton.
The reception is at the alumni center.
me: Ohhh
Okay, I get it
10:44 PM And you're irked because--
Because you're supposed to bring a guest, and if either of you drink the water, it might make for an interesting night in Vegas?
confuzzled: Because I'm supposed to be a guest
10:45 PM me: Cuz Vegas and Ogden are so close....
confuzzled: And I know that in this instance, "guest" = "date"
me: Ah
confuzzled: It's karmic payback, really
me: How so?
confuzzled: I was telling my friend Steve on Thursday how much I dislike asking guys out and how there was no way I'd be asking a guy out any time soon
10:46 PM The invitation came in the mail the next day . . .
me: Well
Serves you right, then
e
r
something like that
[e+r=er]
confuzzled: I caught that
Well, see, I really hate asking guys out because I don't drive
10:47 PM So it's not like I can take them to the event
me: Oh
I see
That makes some sense
...I guess...
10:48 PM confuzzled: I'm kind of wishing I didn't really like both of these people
(The couple getting married both are good friends of mine; we all tutored together at the WSU Writing Center)
10:49 PM Because then I'd not feel guilty about RSVPing "Sorry, not coming"
me: Well, that's what you get for having friends
10:50 PM confuzzled: I know. I should have just been an antisocial jerk.
Then I wouldn't have this problem
me: Well, it's never too late to change, you know
Just lace your RSVP with anthrax or some such
10:51 PM Then there won't be a reception for you to miss
No more potential for guilt for being a no show
(...just for being a murderous terrorist)
10:52 PM confuzzled: You're so helpful!
10:53 PM me: I do what I can
10:54 PM confuzzled: The guy my roommates think I should ask lives in Ogden, so I won't ask him . . . because even if I had him pick me up from my parents', he'd still have to drive down to Centerville, then back to Layton, then to Ogden, then back to Centerville
And I don't think I'm worth the gas money, to be quite frank
me: Woah, easy now
10:55 PM I'd hate for you to squeeze some semblence of kind words out of me
confuzzled: I'm just stating plain fact
And you don't have to squeeze out any kind words
Because I was already roundly chastized by my roommate for making that particular comment.
me: Fat lot of good it did, I see....
10:56 PM confuzzled: It may shock you to learn that I'm just about as stubborn as they come
(Then again, it may not)
me: Nope, didn't shock me
A couple days later (9/15/08), this Gmail chat occurred:
me:
8:57 PM So did you spend yesterday hitting on all the boys in your ward to try to rustle up a date? ;P confuzzled: Yesterday, we actually had the big-stake-conference-type thingie in the Conference Center
So that would be a no
8:58 PM Although between the stress caused by thinking about that, trying to figure out what my comp theory professors wants us to do exactly, and general life pressures, I did manage to give myself a migraine
Because I'm that talented
(And that much a basket case)
me: Wow--
8:59 PM and now you're--
looking at a computer screen?
Bet that's ril good for the migraine!
confuzzled: Oh, it's gone now
me: You're crazy =P
Oh
confuzzled: It was in full force this morning
So I medicated it, called work, and went back to bed
till I had class
Can't miss class
me: Yeah...
9:00 PM confuzzled: As for me being crazy, tell me something I didn't already know ;)
me: I'm crazy, too!
Or did you know that already?
9:01 PM confuzzled: Oh, I was pretty darn sure
me: Well
now you know
Are you really that stressed about that reception thing?
Shoot
9:02 PM When is it?
I don't have a car just now
But I will within a week
I can cruise up to SLC and onward to--
to--
that place you said it was
confuzzled: Layton and Ogden?
To go to a wedding and a reception?
me: Yeah, that one
confuzzled: With some crazy girl?
who, at the moment, is a total wreck?
me: ESPECIALLY a crazy girl
confuzzled: You're more daring than I thought.
me: No
crazy
9:03 PM The distinction is slight but, in this case, vital
And so we went to the wedding. It was pretty much the maiden voyage of The Manimal, and it was a blind date with someone I met online--really, there was all sorts of potential for really horrible, awkward, random, painful, hi-larious things to occur, but I regret to say that it went off without much of a hitch (except for the wedding, I guess. Get it? They got--hitched! Ahardyharhar...). There was that one part where I got us lost in a sprawling field and we ended up at the tollbooth entrance to an island and had to turn around and search for a freeway, but even that wasn't too bad because we had plenty of time to kill between the wedding and the reception anyway.
At the reception, they had a guy making balloon animals--balloon butterflies, I might add! They also had complimentary bubbles for all the guests--bubbles, I say! It was pretty much the best reception ever.
Unfortunately, after I took Confuzzled back to her place and then returned to Provo, I developed my first symptoms of salmonella poisoning, so my journal doesn't record many details of the actual social excursion. Just as an aside, though, Confuzzled looked smashingly good in blue. (Are you blushing, Confuzzled?)
So there you have it.
Sunday, January 11, 2009
Take THAT, Dr. So-and-so!
This is from my journal entry for 9 January 2008, my first day at BYU:
---
My English professor (Dr. Claudia Harris) handed out the syllabus and went over it with us. I kinda zoned her out as I flipped through the syllabus on my own, realizing that it was almost identical to the English 100 class I took right after my mission, which was perhaps the least challenging English class of my academic career thus far and not something I want to do again.
At one point, Claudia (she prefers not to go by Doctor) asked what our expectations for the class were. Various students raised their hands and made comments, and after each one, Claudia wrote a one-word summation of the comment on the board.
"Anyone else?" she asked after 4 or 5 comments had been made and summarized on the board.
I raised my hand.
"Yes?"
"I want this class to be a challenge," I said. "If it doesn't make me think or lose sleep at night, I don't think it's worth my time."
A brief silence ensued in which she merely fidgeted with her marker.
"Yes," she said. "We'll be thinking in this class."
She wrote nothing on the board but rather put the marker away and moved on to a new topic of discussion.
At the conclusion of the class, she said something that I felt was directed toward me. I feel that way partly because of what she said but also because, whereas her eyes had roved around the room throughout the class up to that point, for this little monologue, her eyes fastened upon my corner of the room. She appeared to be looking straight at me, so I engaged her in a staring contest.
"I have a Ph.D," she said. "I have taken a lot of college classes, and I learned that I could kind of get a feel for whether or not a professor's teaching style would work for me on the first day of class. If you feel like we're not going to get along, I think you should drop the class: it won't hurt my feelings, and every time I failed to drop a class that I had a bad feeling about, I regretted it."
I couldn't help myself; I smiled. This parting shot won her my respect--and confirmed to me that I was in the wrong class. So I took Claudia's advice and dropped her class.
---
My English professor (Dr. Claudia Harris) handed out the syllabus and went over it with us. I kinda zoned her out as I flipped through the syllabus on my own, realizing that it was almost identical to the English 100 class I took right after my mission, which was perhaps the least challenging English class of my academic career thus far and not something I want to do again.
At one point, Claudia (she prefers not to go by Doctor) asked what our expectations for the class were. Various students raised their hands and made comments, and after each one, Claudia wrote a one-word summation of the comment on the board.
"Anyone else?" she asked after 4 or 5 comments had been made and summarized on the board.
I raised my hand.
"Yes?"
"I want this class to be a challenge," I said. "If it doesn't make me think or lose sleep at night, I don't think it's worth my time."
A brief silence ensued in which she merely fidgeted with her marker.
"Yes," she said. "We'll be thinking in this class."
She wrote nothing on the board but rather put the marker away and moved on to a new topic of discussion.
At the conclusion of the class, she said something that I felt was directed toward me. I feel that way partly because of what she said but also because, whereas her eyes had roved around the room throughout the class up to that point, for this little monologue, her eyes fastened upon my corner of the room. She appeared to be looking straight at me, so I engaged her in a staring contest.
"I have a Ph.D," she said. "I have taken a lot of college classes, and I learned that I could kind of get a feel for whether or not a professor's teaching style would work for me on the first day of class. If you feel like we're not going to get along, I think you should drop the class: it won't hurt my feelings, and every time I failed to drop a class that I had a bad feeling about, I regretted it."
I couldn't help myself; I smiled. This parting shot won her my respect--and confirmed to me that I was in the wrong class. So I took Claudia's advice and dropped her class.
Shoulderpants
I moved into a new ward at this beginning of this school year. One of my first weeks here, I was in Sunday school when a guy was called on to say the prayer, but the person leading the class botched the kid's last name, which is Coatney.
"I'm sorry," the teacher said, "how do you say it?"
"Here," the guy said, standing up to demonstrate to the class. "It's Coatney. Coat"--he touched the arm of the suit coat he was wearing--"knee"--he patted his leg--"Coatney. There. Now you'll never forget."
"Oh, okay," I said. "Shoulderpants. Got it."
The few people sitting right around me (my roommates, mostly) chuckled at my comment. I don't think Mr. Shoulderpants actually heard it--if he did, he made no response. But ever since that day, me and my roommates have referred to him as Shoulderpants.
Today I got called as a Home Evening group leader. As I looked over the list of people in my group just now, I realized that he's in it.
This will most definitely be an exercise in restraint for me, but, should my restraint fail, look for cool follow-up stories in the comments section of this post.
"I'm sorry," the teacher said, "how do you say it?"
"Here," the guy said, standing up to demonstrate to the class. "It's Coatney. Coat"--he touched the arm of the suit coat he was wearing--"knee"--he patted his leg--"Coatney. There. Now you'll never forget."
"Oh, okay," I said. "Shoulderpants. Got it."
The few people sitting right around me (my roommates, mostly) chuckled at my comment. I don't think Mr. Shoulderpants actually heard it--if he did, he made no response. But ever since that day, me and my roommates have referred to him as Shoulderpants.
Today I got called as a Home Evening group leader. As I looked over the list of people in my group just now, I realized that he's in it.
This will most definitely be an exercise in restraint for me, but, should my restraint fail, look for cool follow-up stories in the comments section of this post.
Saturday, January 10, 2009
Interro-BANG!
Here is a happy memory from my journal entree for Halloween '07. The Jenny mentioned in this story is not the same as Ice Cream Jenny. During this time in my life, I had a couple of different Jenny's popping up occasionally in my journals, and I didn't know their last names, so gave them titles. One was Ice Cream Jenny; this story involves Saxophone Jenny (so called because we both enjoyed playing the saxophone--in fact this is what I was referring to in "Not you! I meant the saxophone!").
So here you have it, the birth of Interro-BANG!:
---
As mentioned 14oct07, I'm co-hosting the ward "Untalent Show." During a Sunday-night meeting of the activities committee and we two emcees (Saxophone Jenny and I), we decided that the show would have a superhero theme. After the meeting, Jenny and I decided that throughout next week (the week leading up to the show), we're gonna burst in on random apartments while wearing our outfits and do crazy silliness to advertise the show and encourage participation--and we're gonna get all that on film!
Last night, I got a fantastic idea for what to do, and today I got it together. All it took was a nylon book cover from Big Lots, some large blue underpants from Toss, my running pants, a gray long-sleeved shirt, and a printout of a controversial punctuation mark and Interro-BANG was born.
I'm so excited! The get up is SO DANG FUNNY! Oh man! I was laughing so hard in front of the mirror.
But wait; it gets better:
Ben Hubbard came over to hang out tonight. While he was here, Sarah came and knocked on the door to invite us over to a dance the other Cinnamon Tree ward was having at the basketball court (she didn't know Hubbard was here, but she knows him from marching band). We went over, but it wasn't all that great, so we came back fairly quickly.
Not too far from my apartment door, Saxophone Jenny and Becca (her old roommate) were standing, talking.
"Jenny!" I said. "I have my superhero outfit, and it is awesome! Oh man! It's so funny!"
"So," she said, "what's it like so I can kinda make mine the same?"
"Hold on," I said; "I'll go put it on and be right back."
I ran inside and put on my running pant and the long-sleeved shirt (which had the red interrobang taped on the front of it) and then pulled the blue underpants on over the top of them. I put the book cover on my head, which makes it look like a bright blue Batman helmet made out of spandex with a desert safari neck cover thing. I wrapped my red quilt around my neck like a cape, then ran outside and nearly pounced on them, yelling, "Interro-BANG!"
They thought iwas funny and all, but the best part was Becca saying, "Um. You're wearing men't briefs--on the outside."
Ahahahahahaha! That's right I am!
After a minute or so, I said, "Okay, I'm going back inside now."
"Good idea," Becca said.
It was so great!
So here you have it, the birth of Interro-BANG!:
---
As mentioned 14oct07, I'm co-hosting the ward "Untalent Show." During a Sunday-night meeting of the activities committee and we two emcees (Saxophone Jenny and I), we decided that the show would have a superhero theme. After the meeting, Jenny and I decided that throughout next week (the week leading up to the show), we're gonna burst in on random apartments while wearing our outfits and do crazy silliness to advertise the show and encourage participation--and we're gonna get all that on film!
Last night, I got a fantastic idea for what to do, and today I got it together. All it took was a nylon book cover from Big Lots, some large blue underpants from Toss, my running pants, a gray long-sleeved shirt, and a printout of a controversial punctuation mark and Interro-BANG was born.
I'm so excited! The get up is SO DANG FUNNY! Oh man! I was laughing so hard in front of the mirror.
But wait; it gets better:
Ben Hubbard came over to hang out tonight. While he was here, Sarah came and knocked on the door to invite us over to a dance the other Cinnamon Tree ward was having at the basketball court (she didn't know Hubbard was here, but she knows him from marching band). We went over, but it wasn't all that great, so we came back fairly quickly.
Not too far from my apartment door, Saxophone Jenny and Becca (her old roommate) were standing, talking.
"Jenny!" I said. "I have my superhero outfit, and it is awesome! Oh man! It's so funny!"
"So," she said, "what's it like so I can kinda make mine the same?"
"Hold on," I said; "I'll go put it on and be right back."
I ran inside and put on my running pant and the long-sleeved shirt (which had the red interrobang taped on the front of it) and then pulled the blue underpants on over the top of them. I put the book cover on my head, which makes it look like a bright blue Batman helmet made out of spandex with a desert safari neck cover thing. I wrapped my red quilt around my neck like a cape, then ran outside and nearly pounced on them, yelling, "Interro-BANG!"
They thought iwas funny and all, but the best part was Becca saying, "Um. You're wearing men't briefs--on the outside."
Ahahahahahaha! That's right I am!
After a minute or so, I said, "Okay, I'm going back inside now."
"Good idea," Becca said.
It was so great!
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