Planning any activity isn't easy. Less so when you're unsure about how many people you're planning for, what your resources are, or even where to host the event. But there we were, a newly formed committee, discussing what to do for a picnic in the park. Thankfully, our newly voted in president was taking charge, just like we all knew she would. We had the resources, so they would be used. Slack lining? We could see trees close enough on google maps so that was a go. Corn hole? We just need someone to pack it in their car and bring it. Nine square? That was in the closet of a church building not too far away, and they were happy to let us borrow it for the day. She had the will, and the way. It wasn't until later that I began to question her motives. The next day the communication came through, "What about fencing?" Followed quickly by my reply: "Like...with swords?" Clearly I was in over my head. Weren't we concerned about safety? How is fencing even an option? Who would even teach it? But I had just voted for her and I intended to follow through, so I encouraged the idea, asking for details and showing the requisite enthusiasm required to gain favor with a political candidate. Someone did have the swords. We'd just need to learn how to fence so we could teach others. Wait. We? It turns out, my loyalty hadn't gone unnoticed. I received private correspondence from her not long after, inviting me to head the project. I was invited to learn how to fence. The day came, and though woefully unprepared, I suited up in appropriate attire and arrived at the location. For those of you unaware, fencing consists of a lot of stabbing. It's actually exclusively stabbing and trying not to be stabbed. I considered defense a more interesting skill to learn and due to my amateur nature, I was stabbed many a time. She really leaned into the theory that the harder you thrust, the less it hurts. I never imagined that crossing blades would be a part of my story. To be fair, I never imagined someone as amazing as her would be part of my story. But I do love the story. -Daniel This is the part where I defend myself. The evening our slackline/horseshoes/hatchet-throwing resource stopped me and asked if we’d be interested in borrowing his fencing masks and foils, I was caught completely off guard. I immediately pitched the idea in the committee group chat, only half-believing it was something we could actually pull off. The committee (aka Daniel) shared my hesitation. But once I knew the equipment existed, I decided I was going to learn how to fence—whether or not it ever became an activity. I reached out to the owner for a private lesson and started mentally recruiting potential dueling partners. I had plenty of friends who’d probably be into it, but the thought crossed my mind that I should invite that Daniel guy. I didn’t know him very well, but he seemed personable enough—so why not? Both invitees responded quickly, and just a few days later there we were in a backyard, mask to mask, foils in hand. Side tangent... Can we please note Daniel’s flair? He showed up in a white button-up shirt, sleeves rolled to his forearms, and long swashbuckling hair flowing freely. I’m very grateful he’s since cut it—but at the time, it absolutely fit the vibe. I wish I'd demanded a picture, but atleast the scene resides in my memory. When I grew tired of stabbing him, we launched into a deeper conversation with our trainer. At one point, I began to share a thought but was talked over. Used to that, I backed off and held my peace. As soon as the other person finished, Daniel redirected the conversation back to me, fighting for my voice and making it clear he wanted to hear what I had to say. Feeling seen and respected, I melted a little. It wasn’t the first time he’d turned my head, but in that moment I decided to officially put him on watch. -Kristlyn

One of the more reckless stories we have, but we remained unharmed. We quite enjoyed it. And it would be safe to say that we came out stronger because of it. A small amount of context will set the stage for the tale about to unfold: All good stories start or end with food. In this case, food that we were feeding the missionaries. I say we but in reality, she had done all the work and I, along with the elders, reaped the reward of her labor. The food was excellent, and as we walked back to our respective cars, we knew where we were going (back to her place, she still had a lot of dishes) but not what we would do. It was a dark and windy night. We were doing dishes in her kitchen and I suggested hiking Lone Mountain. Kristlyn, in her usual shining manner, agreed with enthusiasm despite the wackiness of the idea. It was already blustery on the valley floor and no doubt would get more tempestuous as we climbed. The butte itself hardly rises 600 feet above Las Vegas, but the short hike would prove to be more difficult this night in particular. We arrived at the base with no flashlights and the wind was already quite severe. I remember remarking that what we were doing seemed like a really terrible idea, but how bad could it be if I was with her? As we ascended it became necessary to lean into the direction of the wind, or risk falling over. As one nears the top, the trail narrows, and it just so happened that the wind was blowing perpendicular to our path, primed to knock us off the knife's edge. Nevertheless, we forged on. I left her at the top, seeking any form of outcropping to protect us from the wind as she clung to the summit sign in gale-force winds. We found a place to rest, and stayed there for quite some time. It was cold outside and the wind was still howling, but we had each other, and it was almost peaceful. I'm grateful to have found a person that's even more excited than me to do crazy stupid things. - Daniel That was not the first treacherous hike of the day. Prior to feeding the missionaries, we had embarked on an adventure with a group of friends on Mt. Charleston, climbing 1400 ft in just under 2 miles. You think we would have learned our lesson when we were only able to appreciate that overlook for about 90 seconds before the frigid, gusty wind had us turning around to head back down. We hadn't made plans beyond feeding the missionaries that evening, so as we took separate cars back to my place, my mind starting racing through ideas of how to entertain my new boyfriend for a bit longer. As I glanced out my car window, Lone Mountain was smiling back at me. "Oooh, I could go for another hike", I thought to myself as the gusty wind tried to blow my car out of its lane. "Probably unwise... but what if we did...?" I assumed this would remain a funny internal monologue and had no real intention of suggesting it. But only moments after arriving at my house, Daniel asked if I wanted to hike Lone Mountain. Let's do it! The stability Daniel provided was probably the only thing keeping me from falling off that mountain, and there were definitely moments I opted to be on all fours. But what a memory! Clinging to that summit sign for dear life as Daniel sought out shelter. Him coming to my rescue to lead me to safety. Keeping each other warm for over an our as we talked, reflected, and gazed out at the city lights. This is also the story of Daniel’s first kiss. - Kristlyn