On my way back...

I'm on my way back to FL this week for the first time in 9 years. Brian and I are going on vacation, and FL seemed like a perfect destination. Old friends, theme parks, and more beach than we know what to do with!


I'm excited to go back.
I'm wishing I still looked that good in a swimsuit :)
I'm nervous to see the old house.
I'm thrilled to see a few of the people that helped raise me.
I'm ecstatic to go to the beach.
I'm worried about Brian getting a bad sunburn.
I'm afraid I might not be able to stomach all of the Busch Gardens roller coasters of my youth. I'm looking forward to taking a thousand pictures.
I'm weirded out about how much I know things have changed.
I'm jazzed to see old friends!
I'm wishing my family could go with us.
I'm anxious about being emotional after seeing everyone and everything.
I'm pumped to go the Orlando temple.

I'm only 4 days away. Wish me luck.

I don't touch meat

I have never been able to touch meat. Can't do it. Hate it. Loathe it. Can EAT is just fine (stop freaking out), but I sure just can't touch it.

Another weird thing about me? I can't handle making the association between the live animal and the actual meat while I'm eating it. I went for quite some time without being able to eat eggs for this reason.

And, after looking at some pictures, I think I discovered part of the reason why I can't touch (or think about) my meats.

We went fishing with Grandpa Tibbitts a few times growing up. The rule was... everyone has to eat a little bit of what they caught.

Guess who sat at the dinner table forEVER, crying and begging to get out of it?

That's right. Fish was swimming and now fish is frying?

I'd rather die first.

(Just for the record, someone woke me up for this picture. It was SUNNY and I was tired, ok?)