Something got started by one of my blogging friends that has been so interesting for me.  She wrote down her love story.  I  had such fun reading each and every chapter, in all it's detailed splendor!  Charlotte, as we'll call my blogging friend, for that is her name, suggested that all her readers should do the same.  At the time, I was feeling particularly unromantic about my love story, which began fourteen long years ago, and thought I would pass on the invitation.  But then I read the first episode in another love story by Aubrey (also a fan of Charlotte's blog, cause who wouldn't be if they happened upon it!), and my desire was kindled.  And so, here I am.  My story may not be nearly as interesting or compelling as either of theirs, (and you may literally want to smash me sometimes) but hey, it's MINE and I LOVE it!  So the choice is yours to read or ignore.  I'm writing this for myself . . . and the man of my dreams.

The first bit, in which Jared and Katie meet:

Some Enchanted Evening, from South Pacific

Some enchanted evening
You may see a stranger,
you may see a stranger
Across a crowded room
And somehow you know,
You know even then
That somewhere you'll see her
Again and again.

Some enchanted evening
Someone may be laughin',
You may hear her laughin'
Across a crowded room
And night after night,
As strange as it seems
The sound of her laughter
Will sing in your dreams.

Who can explain it?
Who can tell you why?
Fools give you reasons,
Wise men never try.

Some enchanted evening
When you find your true love,
When you feel her call you
Across a crowded room,
Then fly to her side,
And make her your own
Or all through your life you
May dream all alone.

Once you have found her,
Never let her go.
Once you have found her,
Never let her go!
  

As long as I can remember, I have loved this ultra cheesy song from South Pacific.  It wasn't until I was pregnant with our first child that Jared (in agony) actually listened to the words and realized, "Hey, this song is about us."  That realization totally changed my mind about how we met.  You see, I never liked the circumstances of our first encounter, considering them to be hopelessly unromantic.  But once I could look at it through these rose-colored glasses, that all changed. . . .

On Friday, September 11, 1998, my journal entry started out like this:

"Something actually happened today!"  A fitting start to the rest of my life, don't you think?  I was a sophomore living on Darwin Avenue, a new student at Utah State, studying French.  I moved in with two strangers, later to become life-long friends, Suzy and Becky.  But on September 11, they were just the girls with whom I lived.  No life, no friends, no nothing but school to do.  But somehow, I got myself out of my apartment at 9:00 pm and made the short walk to the dance at the Institute.  There I met up with Suzy, and together with her friends, we danced the night away!

Truth be told, I am not much of a dancer.  But this was my new chance at life, and I was going to make the most of it.  I threw caution to the wind, and with my two left feet I cut loose!  I think it is a great blessing that there is no video footage of that evening, apart from what runs through the memories of Jared Daniel Weston.  For he was there, across that crowded room, when he saw this blonde-haired, yellow-clad stranger.  In his words, I "looked like I was having fun", so he asked me to dance, though later my  newly-returned missionary admitted, "The Holy Ghost told me to ask you."  

Meet Jared, back from his mission for two whole weeks!  (What?  Only two weeks?  Okay, I'm a little nervous about that.)  He lives with his parents.  (What?  What kind of a loser lives with their parents--I mean come on, really?  You've already been home two whole weeks!  (I don't claim to be a nice person and I DO claim to be a walking contradiction, and I only get worse.))  He is going to study Biology to become a teacher.  (A teacher?  Why would a guy want to be that?  I won't even grace Biology with a thought.)  By the end of the dance, I was pretty sure that we weren't interested in each other and was ready to go find Suzy and make a fool of myself once more.  However, I was completely caught off guard when Jared politely asked, "Do you want to go somewhere and talk?"  So, I accepted the invitation. 

As we talked, I silently planned how I could escape without giving him my phone number.  I found out that he served his mission in Germany and with a great lack of tact mentioned that German is the ugliest language on earth, true to my French snottiness.  He disagreed, so I ask him to speak it for me.  German, while not as ugly coming from the mouth of Jared as I would have thought, has far too many cognates--words that sound the same in two languages.  It was all too easy for me to understand when his German tongue asked me for my phone number.  But I easily brushed this aside by saying, "Oh, so does German have many cognates?"  Smooth, right?  Two seconds too late, I realized my mistake. 

Soon enough, the dance was over.  I was feeling a little irked at having been pulled away from Suzy.  Seeing no polite way around it, I gave Jared my phone number when he asked for it in English.  He didn't write it down.  Dubiously, I asked him if he would remember it.  (Oh how little I knew about this man.)  Confidently, he assured me that he would.

He did.


(As I had no pictures of Jared to date, you'll have to settle for my roommates and me.)
 

Katie, Suzy, Becky, living in Paradise.

Katie, Becky, Suzy, up to no good.