the michelle cherie

I have never met someone that has been like, "Ugh! Music! I hate music. Every single type of music is gross." There is music out there for everyone.

The music on my iPod ranges from Hilary Duff (her early Metamorphosis days) and A*teens to Imagine Dragons and Mumford & Sons. If I liked a song in 5th grade, I still like it now.

I also have the musical taste of a 14-year-old fan girl. I love the Jonas Brothers, Justin Bieber's early stuff, and One Direction.

David Archuleta's voice is as smooth as butter. 

I have every album Switchfoot has ever produced.

I would have to say my favorite band is The Rocket Summer. Bryce Avery is a musical genius.

I really, really, really like sad songs. I don't know why, I just do. 

Here are some of my favorite songs. Don't worry, most are happy.

Married! To my most favorite person in the world.

Before I met Nate I thought it would take me a very long time to find someone I could tolerate enough to want to be with for an eternity. The key word being "tolerate." I honestly didn't think I would find somebody I actually enjoyed, just someone tolerable. (Maybe because I found a lot of the boys I went on dates with to be mostly annoying.) But luckily for me I found someone I actually enjoy being around!

Nate is my best friend and I don't know what I would to without him.

"Why not post another awkward story from my past love life?" I said to myself.

"Great idea!" myself said back. It is Friday, after all. Let's get crazy.

- - - Presenting the story of my first kiss - - -

Allow me to be brief.

It was rough. Literally. 

The boy hadn't shaved his face for a couple days so there was prominent stubble.

It made me think of the camel I once fed at San Diego Zoo. Their lips are surrounded by very rough, bristly hair. Those slobbery camel lips basically made out with the palm of my hand I know what I'm talking about.

So, yes. My first kiss reminded me of a slobbery, hairy-lipped camel.

Once upon a time I was waiting for the bus to take me to school. Stranger boy that was shorter than me started talking to me and we discovered we knew some of the same people. He proceeded to sit by me on the bus and talked to me about whatever stranger boys that are shorter than me talk about. I reached my stop and he asked for my number. Since everyone on the bus pretty much heard him, I didn't want to embarrass him by saying no so I gave it to him. He called me that weekend and left a message asking if I wanted to go out sometime and to call him back. Not really wanting to go out with the boy, I never called him back. "You'll probably never see him again," I said to myself. Don't ever say that. You will ALWAYS see them again. Foolish.

A few days passed. One morning I got to school earlier than intended so I decided to pass the time sitting in one of the soft chairs in the game room of the Institute building. I opened my backpack and looked at my planner and went through various papers in my folders. As I was looking down at my lap, going through a class folder, I sensed that someone sat down in a soft chair near me. "No one does that," I thought. "I have clearly claimed this grouping of soft chairs as my space. How dare someone sit down in my personal bubble."

I heard the clearing of a throat and a timid voice said, "Hey."

I looked up. Stranger boy that was shorter than me met my gaze. "Oh, hi." I said, awkwardly.

Boy: I thought it was you. How are you?

Me: Good. Well, I have to get to class . . . (I started to quickly gather my things to get ready to dart out of there)

Boy: Did you get my message?

Me: Ummm . . . yes.

Boy: Why didn't you call me back?

Me: Honestly, I thought it was weird. I just don't know you at all.

Boy: Okay . . . well, how am I supposed to get to know you if we don't spend some time together? (said with a slight smirk)

Good one, boy. Good one.

Me: Fine (sounding annoyed), we can do something, but it would have to be something really casual.

Boy: Like what? What would you like to do? (spoken slowly and patiently as if he is speaking to a child)

Me: I don't know. We could get ice cream or something.

Boy: So, would it be okay if we went for ice cream this Friday? (again with the patient/demeaning voice)

Me: (exasperatedly) Sure.

Boy: (patiently) Is it okay if I pick you up?

Me: (curtly) Yes. I need to go to class. Exits the awkward presence of stranger boy.

So that super awkward moment led to an awkward date where we spent way to much time sitting at a table in Farr's ice cream shop and stranger boy told me his favorite things to do are to "throw things" and "think." I told him I had to be home 15 minutes earlier than I originally told him because I had to meet the boy my roommate was going on a date with that night. Not even a lie. On the drive back to my apartment he said something like, "I think God led me to find you in the Institute building." No, stranger boy, I don't think He did.

Stranger boy called me the next weekend to go ice skating. I told him I thought about it (his favorite activity) and I'm just not interested.

The End

My dream job would be designing houses.

I love houses. I am always examining them as I walk/drive/run (hahaha just kidding, I never run) past them. I love the Parade of Homes. I could be perfectly happy for hours looking through a book or website full of house plans. I have favorite streets with favorite houses and I go past them when I can. One day I would like to design a house for Nate and I. For reals. I'm even reading a book about it.

My other dream job would be to read books - whatever books I wanted - and get paid for it.

There are really only two instances where I always think of a "what if" question.

1) When taking the trash to the dumpster . . . "What if someone is in the dumpster today waiting to freak out the next person that dumps trash?"

2) When inside any sort of building whatsoever . . . "What if there was an earthquake right now? What would I do? What are my chances of surviving?"

Dust. It is everywhere and I strongly dislike it.

Walking all the way to the mailbox just to find that no mail has been delivered.

When teachers write on the board and dot the i's or cross the t's after the whole word or sentence has been written and they are not writing in cursive. Please, dot and cross as you go.

Websites that automatically play music when you enter the site. 

Loud breathing.

The word "apparently."

When people complain about the calories a certain delicious food has while they are eating said delicious food. If you chose to eat it, just enjoy it. Food is wonderful.

Running.

Saved by the Bell.

In Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 2, Harry does not fix his wand.

Many people have heard of the 5 love languages. I very much appreciate the research behind the development of the love languages, but there is one love language Gary Chapman forgot.

The love language of food.

I believe that is my love language. When I have felt most loved, it is when people have given me food or made me food (which, I guess, could be classified as the love language of acts of service or receiving gifts, but not just any act of service or gift wins my heart, just the food-y kinds).

When Nate and I were first dating, he would occasionally bring me cookies from the deli he worked at. And now we are married. He knew my love language.

Years ago my family went to Bear Lake and I got super sunburned and didn't feel good. I sat in a chair under our tarp and just felt awful. Everyone started eating lunch, but I just sat there. My dad brought me a plate of food. I felt loved.

When my younger sister and I went on pioneer trek while our family was at a family reunion in Ohio, our neighbor offered to make us sack lunches for the trek. I felt loved.

On my study abroad, one of the directors made me a sandwich to eat on the coach. I felt loved.

Just the other day Nate got some smarties at work and brought some home for me. I felt loved.

I feel especially loved when my mom makes me food.

I. Just. Love. Food. And I love the people that give it to me. 

Food is the way to win my heart.

I have noticed that a lot of blogs do a "blog everyday in whatever month." I like that idea, but I know I will not be blogging every single day. So I have decided to call this "31 planned posts" because that is much more realistic for everyone. And because I found 31 topics I like. And because I want to talk about myself.

The list is still a work in progress, so unfortunately, it will not be posted at this time. So I guess it would be more appropriate to call this "31 secretly planned posts." 


Enjoy.

Now, let us begin with number one.

1. Self portrait and tidbits about yourself



I always have chapstick with me. I have been dependent on it since 6th grade.

I usually croak when I yawn. I think Nate is disappointed when I don't.

I love chewing gum. Sugar free gum has the chemical phenylalanine in it which will probably give me dementia, but I love gum.

Throughout my life I have been a collector. I have collected bouncy balls, jigsaw puzzles, buttons, watches, shot glasses, starburst wrappers, small pencils, nail polish, key chains, state quarters, bookmarks, funny rings, socks, stickers, vases, mugs, books, those coupons you could whip out of  those little light up machines in grocery store aisles, movie ticket stubs . . . What can I say? I like stuff.

When Nate and I get a home, I will make sure we have a room devoted to books and reading. Otherwise known as a library.

I am a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints.

London is my favorite place in the world.

I keep Christmas music on my iPod all year long.

My favorite movie is The Young Victoria. A close second is Anna and the King. Next would be Disney's Robin Hood.

If I had a super power it would be to never need sleep. And to never sweat. Because who likes sweating? Nobody.

One of the very few things I can say in French is, "Je m'appelle Michelle." I always thought the rhyme and Frenchiness of my name sounded nice and that is why it is currently my blog name.