Splash

Once upon a time, there was a little girl who adored the color red and loved to sing. She would sing "Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star" and her ABCs to anyone who would listen, and her dad even taught her some Norwegian folk songs to delight the neighbors with. She loved singing along to cassette tapes and making up songs for her dolls.

One day, when the little girl was nearly three years old, a movie about a mermaid came out. The mermaid had beautiful, bright red hair and the most amazing voice, and the songs in the movie were catchy and fun to sing. The little girl was hooked, singing "Part of Your World" and "Under the Sea" for months afterward.

As the little girl grew older, her love for The Little Mermaid grew, too. She played with an Ariel Barbie doll, flitted around the family's hot tub pretending she was a mermaid and started to learn even more of the movie's songs by heart. When she was five years old, she sang "Part of Your World" dressed in a swimsuit and a sequined fin her mother had made her — and her dad had to carry her out and set her on top of the piano since she couldn't walk.

More than 20 years later, that little girl is all grown up. She still adores the color red, and she still loves The Little Mermaid. Tomorrow, when that movie is released on Blu-Ray, she will be at the store with a huge grin on her face to get her own copy. Then she'll come home, snuggle up with a blanket on the couch and fall in love with Ariel, Eric, Scuttle, Flounder and Sebastian all over again.

All-American girl

I'm back! Andrew and I had a wonderful vacation, and pictures from the trip (along with a few travel tips I've learned) will be coming this week.

And since I left you hanging about the story of my American Girl doll —not intentionally, but our internet connection was really awful during most of our trip — it's time to explain.

When I was about eight years old, I started getting American Girl doll catalogues in the mail every few months. If you were a girl growing up in the late '80s or early '90s, you probably remember them, too: glossy, thick pages with beautiful dolls, accessories, clothes and even matching clothes for girls. Every time that catalogue came, I pored over it, dreaming of a doll of my own.

My parents quickly made it clear that there was no way they'd be buying me a $100 doll — and if I wanted one, I'd have to earn the money myself. For a while, I held lemonade stands and tried to save up the occasional quarters I got for helping with chores, but I realized early on that earning $100 as a kid was an impossible task.

I even took matters into my own hands and wrote a letter to the Pleasant Company asking them why their dolls were so expensive and telling them how much I wanted a Samantha doll. I actually got a polite, personal response back with something about how the American Girl dolls were purchased from a vendor with high prices, and that was why they were expensive.

After a while, I no longer tried to earn money for the doll and resigned myself to the fact that I would never have one. I had one friend who had a Kirsten doll, so I occasionally convinced her to let me play with her. I read all of the books and knew all about Felicity, Samantha, Addie, Molly and Kirsten's histories.

A few years ago, I started looking into the dolls again, just to see which new historical figures they'd added and how things had changed in about 15 years. I was shocked to find out that they'd "retired" the Samantha doll and were planning to retire even more dolls. I wondered if I'd ever see the Samantha doll again.

Finally, a couple weeks ago, I read an article about how two more dolls were going to be retired at the end of the year. And if that weren't bad enough, they were moving away from the historical dolls and focusing instead on dolls you could personalize to look like your daughters.

I have to say that as much as I wanted Samantha because she kind of looked like me (with brown hair and brown eyes), I wanted her more because I was obsessed with the Victorian era and had read all of her books. Because of the Samantha doll and the associated stories, I read so many more other books about the early 1900s. For a long time, I even wanted to name my future son Teddy (don't worry; I no longer have this dream).

So I started scouring eBay for a Samantha doll in good shape and bought one. When she arrived, I felt every bit as excited as I would have at eight years old. I lovingly pulled out her little clothes and the Meet Samantha book I loved so much and felt like I was in second grade again, playing dolls with my friend Jessica and wanting to pull her Kirsten doll out at every possible moment.

Samantha is now sitting in our guest room, waiting for our little girl to eventually come along so she can play with her and have her own adventures. I want my daughters to learn about history, to play make believe and to enjoy a special keepsake doll that they can hopefully pass on to their own kids someday.

I can't wait to share Samantha, and I'm looking forward to reading the book and falling in love with her story and 1904 all over again.

Do you have an American Girl doll? Do your daughters? I'd love to hear your stories!

Another goodbye

I apologize for the unexpected absence last week — especially after a week-long break — but I received word late Wednesday that my grandfather had had a stroke and slipped into a coma. I rushed up to Idaho Thursday afternoon to say goodbye, and I'm so glad I did; he passed away early Saturday morning.

I have been struggling to figure out what to say about my Grandpa Dean and am still having a hard time fathoming that he's really gone. I think the biggest thing I want to remember about him is that he was always there. He actually worked as the custodian at my elementary school when I was little, so I saw him nearly every day. And as I got older, he was there at my science fairs, my band and choir concerts and my soccer games. 

He was there when I battled cancer at age 16, bringing me smoothies and milkshakes and trying to figure out how he could help me feel better. He was there for my high school and college graduations, cheering me on loudly from the bleachers even when he was supposed to be quiet. He was there for my wedding, telling me over and over how proud he was of me.

This weekend, I was there for him, even though he was completely unresponsive and didn't open his eyes or talk. I squeezed his hand and let him know that I was there. I told him I loved him. And even though he wasn't able to squeeze back or respond, I felt a bit of pressure in his hands and knew he could hear me. He knew that I was finally there for him, to show him how much he meant to me.

Those of you who knew my grandpa knew that his family was the most important thing in the world to him. He told everyone about what his kids and his grandchildren were doing, and he was very proud of them. He also absolutely loved music, and I know that I inherited that from him.

One of my favorite memories of him, while sad, is of my brother and my dad singing and playing "Gold Mine In the Sky" on the guitar in the nursing home for him when he had fallen and broken his hip last winter. Grandpa looked so small and weak curled up in his bed and clutching the guardrail for support, and I know he was in a lot of pain. But he had such joy on his face as he listened to the music and looked at each of us as we were gathered in his room. I felt such immense peace and knew that my grandpa felt it too and felt our love for him.

I'm going to miss my grandpa, and it will be hard to say goodbye again at his funeral next week. But I also know that he had a joyful reunion with his parents, his siblings and his beloved son and son-in-law. And I know that he is watching me from heaven and knows how much I miss him and love him. I will see him again, and I'll give him a great big hug when I do.

Missing

Every year, Andrew and his extended family get together to visit the Wasatch Lawn cemetery, which is now just minutes from our new home, on Memorial Day and pay tribute to their loved ones. He snapped this photo of 97-year-old Grandpa Wertz (soon to be 98!) in front of his beloved Jean's grave, and I decided to polish up my rusty Photoshop skills and apply a Gaussian blur for a cool effect.

It's not perfect (I haven't really used Photoshop effects since an ill-fated graphic design class in college with a really mean teacher), but I like the expression Andrew captured on his face. Grandpa misses his wife so much. It was pretty heartbreaking to watch him there, especially since the roses he'd brought her on Mother's Day were still next to the grave, dry and wilted now.

Being there reminded me of my own grandpa, who's been gone three years now. At times, I think about him and want to cry as I realize that he'll never be around to hold my babies, teach them about branding calves and inadvertently show my little boys (and girls) how to cuss (my grandpa had quite a farmer's mouth -- and I loved him for it). But at the same time, I know he'll be there when they leave heaven, and he'll be here in spirit when Andrew blesses them and when we tell them about the great grandpa they missed out on.

I hope you had a wonderful Memorial Day and that the memories of your family members are close to you like mine are tonight. I sure love you, Grandpa, and I miss you.

From this moment

Jack Johnson said it best when he sang, "I believe in memories; they look so pretty when I sleep."

Today, I was listening to the song Andrew and I danced to at our wedding, and I got the chills when I remembered that perfect moment. It's amazing how one song can bring back all those emotions and still make you feel so incredible. I emailed Andrew at work to tell him how I felt, and he felt the same way! He even told me he'd like to go back to the day I said "yes" and pause that moment.

Here are just a few of the moments in my life I'd like to pause and rewind.

Our wedding dance: The song "Until You" by Dave Barnes was absolutely beautiful and fit our feelings perfectly. I remember feeling like time was suspended and I wanted Andrew and I to just be able to hold each other forever and float up into the clouds.

Kneeling across the altar: I could instantly feel the powerful love Andrew has for me and the love I have for him. Being in the temple with him and all of our family was the greatest feeling, especially as we looked into mirrors to see ourselves together for eternity.

The proposal: I'll never forget the look of absolute joy on Andrew's face as he suddenly dropped to one knee and, with a shaky voice, asked me to be his. We were under a gorgeous tree, it was incredibly peaceful and the man I loved had just asked me the question of a lifetime.

Lagoon Day: Riding the Ferris wheel with Andrew and kissing on the Sky Ride (which I had ALWAYS wanted to do) was one of the happiest days of my life. There's something about fairs and amusement parks that always sticks with me.

Our first date: Even though I threw up twice before Andrew picked me up. barely ate any of my food and nearly puked again while we were watching Avatar, Andrew was still interested and so worried about me. From that night on, I knew there was something special about him, and I knew that he was the guy I'd been praying to find.

What moments would you like to rewind? These are just a few of the incredible ones in my mind from my whirlwind year, but I'm awfully lucky to be experiencing even more moments with my wonderful Andrew every day.

Memories light the corner of my mind

I had a great Memorial Day weekend with Andrew and his family, and it stirred up a lot of old memories I have with my family.

We went to his brother's house and watched The Princess Bride, and I was reminded of all the times my sister and brothers and I watched that movie -- and quoted the entire rhyming scene all the time (much to the chagrin of my mother).

Andrew and I met his friends at a Bees game, and I was reminded of the time I watched my first (and only) Yankees game with my brother and was horrified as the Yankees and Red Sox got in a huge fight when they knocked their elderly manager to the ground.

Andrew and I listened to a double quartet sing "Bring Him Home" in sacrament meeting on Sunday, and I was reminded of the many times I had listened to my father and then my brother sing that song at our home and at church.

And finally, we went to a cemetery on Monday morning and placed flowers on the graves of Andrew's grandparents, and I was reminded of my own grandfather, who has been gone for a year now.

I think memories are some of the most important things we possess. Photographs fade, flowers wilt, buildings crumble, but the memories we have of the people we love and the places we have always enjoyed will be with us forever.

I hope your own Memorial Day weekend was filled with beautiful memories like mine was -- and I hope, like me, you're looking forward to creating more of your own memories. I can hardly wait to make my own with Andrew, soon to be mine for eternity.