I remember the first day of kindergarten. I was wearing a faded blue top and my new blue jeans. My hair was perfectly permed, my Sesame Street backpack filled with crayons and paper, and in my arm a roll of paper towels. I remember being very nervous. What if I don't know the answer, will my teacher still call on me? I just barely learned how to spell my name, is she going to require more from me? I don't know anyone, will I ever make friends? Sure enough, my biggest fears were all diminished and I made lots of friends and had a wonderful time.
The first boy I liked is currently on Facebook and has every opportunity to read this so I'm just going to use his initials. In second grade I thought I was in love with K.B. We were partnered up in a play as husband and wife and I thought for sure I would die of happiness. We got to rehearse our lines together, just him and me. The best part was that I knew a few girls who really liked him too and they were all immensely jealous. Sometimes he would look my way, sometimes he would talk to me. I even put his picture in a locket of mine. Oh K.B. you will always hold a special place in my heart for being the first boy I ever thought I loved.
There's many other firsts that have been a great deal of stress for me. My first job was as a car-hop working at Kirt's drive in. My first boss was an &%$@^*, my first date eventually came out of the closet, and my first car accident wasn't that great either. I think my least favorite first was my first time driving a car by myself. I'm pretty sure I almost caused at least 5, no 6 accidents, but I made it home alive...
This week I started a new job and my first day at the U of U. It's going to be tough getting back into a regular study schedule, but I'm sure (with a lot of ice cream) I will manage.
Tonight I had another 2 firsts that brought me great joy and then great sorrow. My friend's Dad was kind enough to send me home with some fresh tomatoes from his garden. I went home immediately and started to make my very first homemade marinara. Oh it was turning out perfectly! Everything was coming together: the noodles and bread were coming out perfect. And then I got side tracked...
Smoke was rising from the oven door, and I gently opened it to find that the bread (covered in olive oil, garlic, and oregano) was on fire. Not just a little, but enough for me to use the fire extinguisher for the FIRST time in my life. I was so disappointed with myself that I burned the bread.
However; there is one good thing that still turned out. I managed to cover the simmering sauce and saved it for a later date.
Moral of the story: come hell and high-water....save the sauce.
