What's in a name?

Lately, there seems to be a lot of confusion about my name. This really shouldn't surprise me, my name has been the same my entire life and it has confused people of all ages. However, what is surprising to me now, is that people I've known for a very long time, suddenly no longer know my name.

When I was born, my dad called up his mom and asked "How do you spell my daughter's name?" I am named after my great, great grandma. Sorine is the Danish spelling of my name. The e is pronounced as an a so it says "Sorina." And that is where the confusion sets in.

I've always just kind of let my name flow. If people don't say it right, that's okay. If I'm going to become friends with them, I can correct them later on. I've been called Serene, Sore-eye-knee, Sigh-knee, Soar-in, and many other versions of Sorine. If people ask, I'll tell them "It's the Danish spelling." and, usually, they will store that information away somewhere in their minds and from that point on they remember how to spell and pronounce my name, even though they may have to think about it for a while first.

However, it is those moments where the people don't make the connection that are most troubling. For example, I worry that people think I just don't know how to spell my name. Maybe they think I made a type-o once and it stuck. Maybe, and this is stretched, they think I have some weird hiccup that only occurs when I say my name "Sorin....UH!"

There comes a point when I just don't feel like correcting people anymore. Especially if it is someone I've corrected many times. It just becomes awkward and embarrassing for the both of us. Instead, I just let them call me what they can remember and I respond to it. Perhaps this isn't the best way to go about it, but it has worked for the most part.

My first year at school, my entire ward called me Soar-in. After introducing myself over and over again (obviously using the correct pronunciation of my name), I got tired of correcting people. I just dealt with the fact that my ward didn't know me very well. It doesn't bother me.

At the beginning of the summer I went to have a camp fire with a group of people. I knew most of them, but I had never really hung out with any of them enough to consider us great friends. However, those that I had met before had gone to high school with me, had classes with me, and should have known me well enough to know how to pronounce my name. Unless they were one of the few I gave up on correcting. We all loaded into one car and as a boy jumped in next to me, he said "Hey Serene! How are you?" I noticed a few of the others give me a look, like how is she going to handle this? I just answered with a "Good, how are you?" This is the same kid who had called me Sabrina the majority of high school. I just figured it was okay, at lest this way he was saying it how it was read. Later, as we all sat around the fire and there was a lull in conversation, he said "Hey, Serene? Remember when I used to call you Sorine (saying my name correctly)? It's a good thing I figured out your real name, huh?" I wasn't sure what to do, so I just said "Actually, Sorine is my real name." It has become a little joke now and since then he has managed to say my name correctly.

Some of these same people have been coming to a YSA family home evening we have every week. Throughout the summer  I've felt myself cringe and seen others cringe as I've heard all the variations of name, wondering how and if I should correct people. A few weeks ago, someone approached me. "So," he said, "is your name Serene or Sorine? I've heard it both ways and whenever I ask people they tell me something different." I realized that maybe I need to start correcting people more. I mean, it doesn't bother me much when someone calls me something else, I'm used to it. But maybe it bothers others to not know my name.

Anyway, the moral of all this is, whatever is easier for you to remember, you can call me that. I will answer to all versions of my name. I won't be offended if you say it wrong or spell it wrong. And I probably won't correct you. So unless you ask, I'm sorry. We'll both have to deal with the awkwardness.

I'm going to be an aunt!!! :D

It is official - the news is out! Whitney and Quint are going to have a baby! :)

Our entire family has been wanting this for a while. So much that some of us (not to mention any names, but Spencer...) even constantly asked them when they were going to make us aunts/uncles. The conversation has turned to babies almost every time we see them. Yet, somehow, we didn't figure it out.

Whitney, however, was sure that everyone knew. While her and I were driving to go do some shopping, she randomly said "So, you know I'm pregnant." It wasn't even a question. I was shocked. I honestly had no idea!

She enlisted me to help inform the family of the great news. This, however, was not an easy task. She wanted to tell them and she wanted it to be sooner rather than later. Since Father's Day was almost here, she came up with a cute idea to write a poem for my Dad telling him that he would soon be a grandpa.

Our family has never really done much for Father's Day. The most exciting Father's Day was when we went to the mountains and ate burnt lasagna and peanut M&M's. So, trying to get the entire family together wasn't easy. Whitney had tried many times to bring it up. But she didn't want everyone to notice that it was a big deal this time.

After much work, we finally got the family together the day before Father's Day. Mitchell was off with his friends, but Whitney called and told him he had to be home for our early Father's Day celebration. He of course didn't know it was so important so it took some work to get him there. He arrived with two of his friends. I looked at Whitney, trying to get her to read my mind. Was she okay with his friends being there for this? She gave me a look as if to say it was as good as it could get.

After opening his other presents (the usual socks, peanut M&M's, and a few other things), she handed him the card. Inside was this poem.

Here we are at the kitchen table,

To understand your humor, some would be unable.

But with the nerdiness we’ve all got,

It sends us running to the pot!

You’ve taught us how to laugh, how to give, how to smile

And to make snickerdoodles every once in a while.

Your teaching did not stop there,

As we sat again in this chair

Studying math, I thought we were done,

Then you said “one more, just for fun."

Outside this time as we played some ball,

Not knowing when I played with other I wouldn’t be good at all.

The confidence stayed with me through life,

Even now, when I am a wife.

You know what next will come,

We’ll be adding to this family some!

With this announcement don’t fall down!

You will soon be the ugliest granddad in town!!

I thought the poem was perfect for our family. Whitney did a great job!

I still don't know how I didn't catch on earlier. At one point, when we were talking about babies and whether we want to know if we will have a boy or a girl and she said "I want to know what I'm having now! ... with all my kids..." And I didn't catch on... haha!

Whether it is a boy or a girl, we are very excited! And we can already tell you this baby will be extremely spoiled! I've already bought a present for it and have planned out other things I will get later on.

So there you have it! The news is out - I'm going to be an aunt! :D

PS You can read my dad's version of this here.

 

 

 



A date, or not a date...

When I started this blog, I didn't think it would become one of those annoying blogs that always posted about dating. However, as I look over my posts, that is what I tend to write about.

After reading just the title to my post "The Way to a Man's Heart", my brother said "Wait, YOU wrote this?" It is hard for him to believe that I have so many thoughts on something with which I am obviously not even slightly successful.

A little background: Since graduating high school three years ago, I've been on four blind dates. I've had one guy ask me on a date. And I've spent a lot of time giving advice to both boys and girls on how to act when it comes to dating. I'm not saying I should become a matchmaker, but I have seen the advice that I've given actually work. Whether that means the couple ended up married, or they ended up FINALLY breaking up. I kind of like to think that I had something to do with it.

Which brings me to my next bit of advice. This is for you, boys.

You see how up in that background it says I've only had one guy ask me on a date? Well, there might be a few people reading this thinking, um, excuse me? I know that isn't true. But here is the deal - it is true.

Guys - texting a girl does NOT count as asking her on a date! And neither does a Facebook message. Technology has ruined the true art of socializing. I know several people who have ended or even started a dating relationship over social media. Whether that is texting, Facebook, or even email. That is just plain stupid! Man up! Call her on the phone, ask her in person, something! We aren't in high school anymore, no need to hide behind a bush waiting to see her response to the heart attack you just left on her lawn. And girls, I don't know about you, but I'd much rather have a guy saying he wants to spend time talking with me rather than spend time texting me. Let him know that! Don't accept a date in that way. Simply say "why don't you call me and try asking that again." And more importantly, don't expect to get away with using technology to turn a guy down. If he had the respect to ask you on a proper date, you'd darn well better have the respect to politely turn him down face to face. Or, better yet, go on the date! Don't turn him down at all.

Think of it this way, boys, if you ask her on a date in a setting where she can hear your voice, she will be more likely to say yes. In the written world, she can easily turn you down without having to hear the disappointment in your voice or have a guilty conscience. When she can hear your voice or see your face, she will feel the fear and must say yes. That's right, you are understanding me correctly - scare her into going on a date with you. It just might be crazy enough to work! ;)

One of the reasons I don't count a "text date" as a real date is because the word "date" is rarely even used. So many girls have come to me saying "He just texted me. Asked me to a movie  - is it a date?" or "He wants to hang out tomorrow, just us, is it a date?" It is so confusing to try and decipher whether or not a guy is interested in you, let alone whether or not he is taking you on a real date or if he just wants someone to talk to. The sad part is, this doesn't happen just in the written world. The confusion can also come through a phone line or even, believe it or not, in a face to face setting. Boys - don't be afraid. Take the girl on an honest to goodness date and let her know you are doing it.

Remember - a date with a girl is no commitment. It is okay to take us on a date when you are only interested in being friends. It is okay to take us on a date and then realize "hey, this girl is boring, I don't think I'll date her again." Or "Man, that girl was just too much! She needs to back off. Think I'll be seeing less of her." Just remember, ask girls on dates and for goodness sake, don't do it in the written world.

She's okay

It's been a while since I've posted. I wish I could say it's because I've been traveling or adventuring or doing something exciting, but really I just haven't posted and that's all there is to it.

 A few weeks ago I started this post and couldn't get myself to finish it. It came to my mind while at the funeral for my best friend's mom. One of the people who spoke was actually one of the people who came to pick me up from school when my sister died. In her talk, she mentioned that Teresa (my friend's mom) was okay now. I quickly thought of my sister and a paper I wrote about her when I was in high school. 

I thought I'd share the paper I wrote. Please don't judge me for my mistakes, I was young. Plus, it is in it's original form and it was a hard thing for me to write about. 

She’s Okay

            “Mrs. Payne? Could you please send Sorine Goodworth down to the office; she’ll be leaving?” the voice filled the classroom. Staring with hopeful eyes the other sixth grade students looked at me, envious of my name.

            I wasn't expecting to leave school. Normally I am warned by my mom before I even walk out the door. I thought nothing of it and bent down to get my books out of my desk. I looked inside and there sat a package of Smarties. Thinking of Gracie and how she loves those circles of sugar I put the Smarties in my coat pocket and was out the door.

            “Hey Sorine, where are you going?” it seemed like the entire world was out in the hall as I took the walk to the office, and everyone was curious as to where I was going.

            “I don’t know. They just called me down so I left,” I said in my cheery voice. I was happy to leave school. What kid wouldn't be?

            I was quite shocked to see Tracy and Jolynn waiting with Julia. Now I was starting to wonder what was going on. Why isn't Mom picking us up? Where are we going? Why didn't Mom tell me I was going to leave?

            After we picked up the rest of my siblings Tracy tried to explain what was going on. “Something happened with Gracie. She is at the hospital and your mom wants all of you to be there with her.”

            Something happened with Gracie. She is okay. She just has to be okay. She was sick last night; maybe Mom just took her to the emergency room because it got worse. But she is okay. I couldn't let myself continue thinking. If I thought about it too long I would worry, I didn't want to worry. She’s going to be okay. She’s going to be okay…I felt like the more I thought it the more likely it was to be true. Something like this couldn't happen to me. I believed it though, I truly believed it.

            We got to the hospital and said a quick prayer before going inside. Whitney was more worried than the rest of us and thought that a prayer would help. Doesn't she know that Gracie’s okay? As we walked down the hall everyone looked at us with that sad look. She is okay! I was shouting it now and felt like screaming it at the next person who gave me that sad look.

            I entered the white room and started to look around. There was no hospital bed, no nurse, no doctor. That has to be good, right? Mom and Dad sat in the chairs and Mom held a bundle of blankets which I assumed held my beautiful, loving, adorable two year old sister. She’s okay. I said it one last time but my confidence in the statement was starting to disappear. I wasn't sure how much I believed it anymore.

            After my mom smiled and told us all hello I knew something was wrong. Eyes watering, hands shaking, Mom started to talk, “When I went in Gracie’s room to wake her up this morning she wasn't breathing. They did all that they could but she’s gone.”

            It was like the wall fell and everyone felt like they could let their tears flow. And we did. Every moment I had spent with that beautiful, loving, adorable little sister flashed before my teary eyes. I held her stiff body thinking she couldn't be gone. But she was and I couldn't do anything about it.

            It has been almost four years and my life still isn't back to how it was. Every now and then I remind myself that she is okay. Just because I can’t see her doesn't mean she isn't okay. She is in heaven wrapped in my Heavenly Fathers arms and she's okay.

            I walked out those hospital doors trying to keep from crying one last time. I slipped my hand in my coat pocket. The Smarties. Tears filled my eyes again and I couldn't hold them back. “Just remember the good times you had with her,” my uncle Todd said. With my hand clenched around those Smarties I walked towards the car. She’s okay.

And there you have it. Fifteen year old me writing about my sister. I wish I could say things get easier, and in a way they do. But the fact is, when I was twelve years old, my little sister died. And I can't change that.  But, I have faith. I know that my sister and my friend's mom are okay. In fact, they are more than okay. And they want us to be happy. 

I just have to remind myself, Heavenly Father knows what He is doing. He has helped me in the past, and He will help me in the future.

The Way to a Man's Heart

We've all heard the saying. "A way to a man's heart is through his stomach."

The question is, have we all heard about the success of feeding a man and getting him to fall in love with you?

While flipping through a magazine my mom had sitting on the counter, I came across a recipe for some sort of "healthy cake" (as if a such thing exists). The lady who had sent in this recipe went on and on about how many dates she got after making it for some sort of function. My question is, do the two things - making a healthy cake and getting dates - really have a connection? Is it possible that men are putting the connection there to get us to continually make them food?

I have a confession, I'm guilty of trying this out. I've made carrot cake, cinnamon rolls, and cookies all with just one guy in mind. After each one, he'd tell me how wonderful they were and how great of a cook he thought I was. Of course he wasn't the only one I would share this food with. And everyone else would comment on it, too, convincing me that with those skills I wouldn't be single for long.

Yet, here I am. Still single. And even though attempt number one didn't work, I tried again. This time I made tacos, scones, cinnamon rolls again, cheesecake, all sorts of things. Again the same results.

And yet, here I am. Still single. So, my question is, why do we women keep making food for these men? I've quoted him before and I'll quote it again. As Dallin H. Oaks said, "Young women...don't make it easy for young men to hang out in a setting where you women provide the food."

And there you have it. The way to a man's heart could be through his stomach, but probably not. It is possible, but most likely there is something else to it. I'll let you know if I figure it out. ;)

My dreams can be a little unusual...

When I was about eleven, I had a dream that I had a twin sister. But I accidentally killed her while doing the dishes. She fell out the window with a bunch of pots and pans.

Yeah, it took me a while to recover from that one.

And then it came back. One of the few recurring dreams I've ever had.

Anyway, my dreams have always been weird. Some a little morbid, some funny, some adventurous (Example, a few weeks ago I had a dream Chelsea and I jumped into a river with a bunch of camping gear).

And some, just plain old weird.

A few nights ago I didn't sleep very well. That always results in fantastic dreams. I woke up a lot in the night. That always results in me remembering almost every detail of my dreams.

To tell the entire dream would take a very long time (just ask Spencer), so instead I will just give you a few details. If you want the full story, let me know. I'll tell you in person. :)

This dream involved a silent and extremely overweight guy named Kirby playing the chopsticks on randomly placed pieces of wood. It involved a zombie "football game" (which was really just us running away from the zombies at the grand canyon while holding a football). It involved one of my roommates turning into a super hero named Kicking Katie, who had a boyfriend sidekick named Jump-kick Jack.It involved turning to dust on a windy day and heads shattering like ice cubes. It also involved magic pizza, savory pudding, a leaping fiance, and snow creams with potatoes.

Right, it was one intense dream.

Say it in your head...

If you recall, I once had a post involving family prayer. It is ALWAYS a big deal to discover who will actually end up saying it, regardless of who's turn it may be.

Even though the youngest is 14, our family still argues about it. You'd think that by now we'd just grow up and say the prayer already. But no. Tonight, with only five of us there, we had a hard time determining who's turn it should really be. I had said it last night. If Julia were living at home, her turn would be tonight. But she isn't living at home and we've always debated whether or not that puts her in the rotation. So the arguement began - Julia or Spencer.

Julia explained that she doesn't enjoy saying prayers out loud. "Just say it in your head," my dad said.

And then it all came back to me. Just say it in your head. This used to be an option for us when family prayer time came around. I'm sure it was Whitney who came up with it. She probably thought it was the smartest idea ever. Just close your eyes, be quiet for a minute, and then shout AMEN! and everyone would be happy.  And me, being the little sister who believed anything she said (example, carry two plates at the buffet and people will think you are skinny), I am sure I thought she was actually praying.

I can remember Whitney doing this almost every night it was her turn. Should I be concerned that we may have missed praying as a family all those nights?

Tonight, after we laughed about all this, my mom said it is no longer an option for us. There were a few pretend, sarcastic groans. But, part of me wonders, were they really pretend? Or do some of us wish that praying in our heads for family prayer was still an option?