Reflections on Incoming Calls

Incoming calls are like mail... ninety-nine percent of the time they're fun to get, even if you won't readily admit it. As long as a parcel of mail has my name on it, I get excited. So too, as long as the person on the other line knows me personally, I'm thrilled.

One day I got a call from CoxSmith, my dream law firm, telling me that I had been waitlisted for their summer program. "How thoughtful of them!" I mused. The fact that they decided to call instead of simply sending a letter made me temporarily forget that I would not be employed by them this summer.

Another time (actually many times) I got phone calls from my former boss at six a.m. on Monday mornings. She, as is frequent, had a little too much to drink the night before and needed me to open the store for her. Even though she was waking me up from my sweet slumber and effectively canceling my awesome plans for that day, I still found some sort of excitement in the fact that I got a phone call. Weird.

Well, a few weeks ago, I received a phone call from someone with no negative undertones. It was from Katie Bryan, my newly married former mission companion friend. She was in town for the weekend. Let me just say that Katie and I were companions in probably my most difficult transfer on the mission. We both had our own things to deal with and we're both really neurotic people. I wasn't sure we would be friends after the mission.

To my surprise, we actually make REALLY great friends. I love that girl. She thinks like me. She gets me. She has a fantastic sense of humor. And, she is smoking hot, but married, so I can use her as bait for attractive men.

Well, we went and got pedicures at the mall and then I took her out to Carrabba's for her birthday. I am so thankful for great friends who know you so well and who are willing to love you anyway.



Later that night, i got a call from this guy:



who I ended up going on a Dibs run with. (If you don't know Dibs, you must try them. Except if you shop at Smith's, don't try the Mint Chocolate ones because they are always out and they're my favorite.)



When we were leaving the store, who did we see checking out? That's right...druggy Brooke. You wouldn't know it from her Rolling Stones t-shirt and her pill-popping propensity, but Brooke is actually in law school. She sits next to me in business associations, and she's actually pretty smart. But because she's really smart, she really knows how to party well in Provo. Party on, Brooke-meister.



By the end of the night, I had partaken of so much Good-ness, that I looked like this: