The Good Old Days

Last week I finally got around to developing a bunch of rolls of film that I have been carting around for years. It was so fun to be surprised by the pictures that were on each roll. I was hoping that one of them would be the engagement pictures that my friend Katie took of me and Brian, but I didn't find any of those. I apologize for any and all bad lighting, funny colors, and unexpected effects. I am not a fabulous photographer, and the film was really, really old.

First off, we'll start with pictures from the band/choir trip to San Francisco.

Guess where this one was taken....(hint: Read the crab)

Brooke Harker, Bridget Esterhuizen, and Daniel Francik

I think this was at Alcatraz.

Sshhh....They're sleeping. (It's Bridget and Brooke, by the way.)

Brooke, I think you look absolutely gorgeous in this picture.

Moving on to my freshman year of college at BYU:

This is my room. It's got a countdown Kissmas tree, a picture of my friends and I at high school graduation (purple paper), a picture of David Duchovny ('cause that was during my X-Files phase), a paper doll set that I'll explain in a minute, a Jesus collage, drawings of my family that I had to do for my American Sign language class, pictures from my high school summer job, and the foil thing by the plant I'd like to have Jamie explain, becasue I can't remember what that was for. Kay, so the paper dolls were the way a guy answered me when I asked him to Preference. Katie Bleazard and I put on tons of layers of clothes all the way up to our rain coats, which we could barely button because they were so stuffed. On each layer of clothes I taped a word from the sentence "Let's take off to Preference," and we danced and jumped around to fabulous music while taking off our clothes. It's called a strip-o-gram, I know. Looking back on it, and knowing what I do now as a sensible adult, we probably shouldn't have done it, but it was all meant in good fun. The last layer was shorts and a t-shirt, and we were just jumping around - it wasn't meant to be sexy in any way at all. If any of my children or grandchildren are reading this, let it be known that I will not condone any such behavior from you. Anyway, he answered by doing the same with a paper doll that wsa actually and truly named Carrie. I have no idea how he found it, but I thought it was very cool. Um, moving on.


These are my roommates from first semester. (I moved in with one of my best friends after Christmas.) Sara, Janette, and...Man, I'm completely blanking on the last one. I have no idea why I don't remember her name right now. I'll fix it when I remember. It's seriously on the tip of my brain.


Okay, this is Katie Bleazard, Jamie Thompson, Wendi Andelin, Bridget Esterhuizen, with Kara Bleazard sprawled out on Katie and Jamie. Bridget went to school in Wisconsin, and she came to visit us a couple of times, and apparently we ate ice cream. This was taken in the kitchen of Jamie's apartment.


Katie, busting some serious moves, with Melissa Mason laughing in the background. Okay, do you see the hanging paper with the big pink "h" thing on it? Katie made a bunch of funky shapes to help decorate all of our rooms. I wonder if I still have mine somwhere?

This is Jessica, after she got a job as a custodian. (A lot of us became custodians after that. I figured if Jess was cool enough to do it, anybody was, and it was so fun.) The toilet papering job and sign was done by Jamie and probably Melissa, too. The signs read, "Clean up this mess, Janitor Jess," and "Wee luv yew Jhes-say-kuh."


Jamie, modeling my bed.


This is everyone from my apartment second semester. Melissa, Jamie, Shannon, Me, Jennifer, and Jessica.


VerDonn, Katie, Me, Shared
Katie's wearing one of my dresses, and I'm wearing one of hers. The purple one is the bridesmaid dress from my brother's wedding. I had so many friends borrow that one. (You picked well, Tallia!)


A different dance. Me, Katie, Melissa, and Jamie.


This was Jamie's boyfriend, Brad. There was one time that Jamie planned a romantic dinner in the basement of our apartment complex, and I was in charge of cooking Brad's steak. The only problem was that I had no idea whatsoever how to cook a streak, and, man, if that poor cow wasn't dead before I got to it, it sure as heck was by the time I was through. That thing was cooked thoroughly and pressed so that any juices it had were completely drained. Now that I know what makes a good steak, I really feel sorry for what Brad had to eat that night.