The Week of W(h)it: Under the Midnight Tuscan Sun Bloopers

For those who enjoyed the Chatfield Sisters' movie Under the Midnight Tuscan Sun, I offer up the blooper reel.

For those who didn't watch the 25-minute movie, I suggest that you wet your whistle with this five-minute silliness.

And for those of you named Whitney, I hope you enjoy this.

P.S. For those of you who asked, there are a few other Chatfield Sisters movies. Hopefully they will show their faces around the Internet soon!

The Week of W(h)it: Midnight Under the Tuscan Sun

My sisters and I like to be together. Our dream would be to all live on the same block for the rest of our lives, but alas, it hasn't happened yet. By the end of this summer, two of us will be living in Buenos Aires, one will be in southern California, one will be in Utah, and one will be in Ithaca (with Whitney!).

To commemorate our fun together, we have made several "movies" throughout the years. Julie will write them, cast all of us, and direct; I say that so my father will be happy that I've given credit where credit is due.

The most recent movie was filmed in 2009, right after I had my miscarriage; I needed some laughs, and we definitely had some.

I give you Midnight Under the Tuscan Sun.

The Week of W(h)it: A Blooming Good Time

Jessie Gibbs is Whitney's former co-worker and friend, my friend, wife of a rock and roller, and queen of the Crocker Art Museum.

I met Whitney when she worked at the BYU Museum of Art. We worked in different rooms, side-by-side, separated by huge cinder block wall. To get to Whitney, we had to go through a security clearance door and down a narrow hallway; then you would find her working away on her Mac, listening to music, and eager to chat. 

On the day a huge opening was cut in the wall so the rooms were connected, it was like sunshine came to the museum basement. Suddenly, we had music, laughter, and Whitney! 

My favorite story about Whitney is the the time she and I replaced all the books on our boss’ bookshelf. The museum had a TON of copies of Art in Bloom given to the store as a gift. The books became out dated after years being stored. 

The museum had a contest to see which employees could give away the most books to good homes. During all this our boss took a trip to NY for work and was gone for two days. 

Whitney and I had a clever prank idea. We unloaded all the books off her entire wall of shelves onto a cart that barely worked and, after being loaded, was so heavy it could hardly move. It was such a struggle to move the cart that we were falling over laughing at ourselves, which made it even harder.

By the time we went upstairs to get the books to fill the shelves we were giggling and being so goofy that all the security guards were giving us weird looks but we never explained to anyone why we were hauling away an entire pallet of the giveaway books. 

Then we filled Emily’s entire office with the same copy of Art in Bloom on the bookshelf wall, Whitney crafted up a funny card to put on her desk, and we walked coworker after coworker into the office to see how long it would take them to notice our prank. 

The day leading up to when Emily returned was filled with waiting for someone new to come in so we could see their reaction, telling everyone’s reaction story over again to those who missed it, and continual laughter till finally Emily saw it herself! 

It was one of those activities that could only really be funny to do with the right person, and Whitney is always the right person to put a good stamp on a joke.

The Week of W(h)it is a collection of funny stories about my friend Whitney Hardie and the people she knows. Whitney's mother recently died and this project is a way to help her grieve through humor. 

The Week of W(h)it: Hotel Beds are Dangerously Tall

Caleb and I were married in August 2006. It seems like a million years ago, though. The whole wedding day was a haze, but the wedding night stands out in my mind to this day.

And not for the reason you think. Get your mind out of the gutter.

After the excitement of the day, Caleb and I were really tired. We fell asleep in our hotel room easily; it was our first night sleeping in the same bed together, but we had already confessed to each other that he snored and I drooled. There shouldn't have been too many more surprises.

Cut to the middle of the night, when I am awoken by something clubbing me in the side repeatedly.

I yelped loudly, hoping that my new husband would save me from whatever was attacking me.

But it turned out that it was my new husband doing the attacking—only, it wasn't attacking. It was "saving."

In his slumber, Caleb had perceived that I was falling off the extremely tall hotel bed. To save me, he reached out over and over again to grab me. And you know how the things you do when you're asleep don't always match what you think you're doing? His reaching was actually just pounding me with his forearm. He was trying to be my white knight, but instead he was turning me black and blue.

Once I woke him up enough to stop pummeling me, he expressed how concerned he was about my safety. I took it all in stride, because he hasn't touched me in anger ever. He apologized profusely for hurting me while trying to save me, so all was forgiven.

My subconscious apparently didn't forgive him, though, since I twice punched him in the face while I slept during our first year of marriage. But that's a story for another time.


The Week of W(h)it is a collection of funny stories about my friend Whitney Hardie and the people she knows. Whitney's mother recently died and this project is a way to help her grieve through humor.

The Week of W(h)it: A Bonus Mad Love

I've Got Mad Love is a blog series about my and my husband's courtship, engagement, and wedding. This story is a bonus, and therefore not in chronological order with the previous entries.

When Caleb and I were dating, he drove a dark blue Saturn SL1. When Caleb and I were engaged, he drove a dark blue Saturn SL1.

When Caleb and I were married, we drove a dark blue Saturn SL1. When Caleb and I were parents, we drove our kids in a dark blue Saturn SL1.

We still drive that dark blue Saturn SL1, seven years later.

But that's not the point.

While Caleb and I were dating and engaged, he was the only one in the relationship with a car. He was willing to drive me anywhere I wanted to go, but usually I just wanted to go to his condo so we could make out.

(Should I have said TMI before that?)

The covered parking spot he had was difficult for any car to park in, but especially for one with no power steering and a manual transmission. He would twist and turn the compact car into the spot, backing it up with the greatest of ease. I was always so impressed.

The teensyness of the spot required that I get out of the car before these parking acrobatics started. He'd "drop me off" before parking, then join me outside the car when he was done. I was totally okay with it, since I was stupid and in love.

Our courtship took place in the snowy months, which meant that I was often "dropped off" in the falling snow. Before you start to imagine some romantic scene with me shivering, covered in snowflakes, and being whisked upstairs by my boyfriend, I would like to point out that I am originally from southern California.

And I would wear sandals, shorts, and short-sleeved shirts often. 

I was dumb, but was still willing to freeze for a few minutes. I mean, I knew there would always be kissing afterward. And kissing is my favorite activity.

I tell you all of that to tell you this: Every time I drive past his old condo while it's snowing outside (which I often do since we still live in the area), I totally get the hots for my husband all over again. The kids could be crying in the backseat, the snow could be 14 feet high, we could be in a raging argument about something serious—it doesn't matter.

I can't think of a time when my latent memories-turned-arousal have made anything come to fruition, but I do make sure to tell Caleb about it every time. Who doesn't want to hear that they're wanted? Like, wanted wanted. Am I right?

P.S. If you are local to the BYU area, you might want to check out the intersection of 900 East and 900 North next time it's snowing. Maybe there's something in the air at that destination—you might just get lucky.

The Week of W(h)it is a collection of funny stories about my friend Whitney Hardie and the people she knows. Whitney's mother recently died and this project is a way to help her grieve through humor.

The Week of W(h)it: Take Two Jackos and Call Me in the Morning

Cari Dahl is my cousin, Whitney's friend, a world-class human being, and a frequent collaborator on So Dang Brilliant. I am writing this story about her to amuse and inform.

Jacko has always held a special place in Cari's heart. She is willing to go to great lengths to keep him happy, and he reciprocates by keeping her life interesting. Any time she comes to our house, he instantly requires something of her: eating cake with hats on, listening to a crazy story, dueling light sabers to the death.

Cari has been our recent go-to babysitter, as she is more local than our other choices and is generally a dreamboat. I worry that she grimaces every time she sees a text from either Caleb or me, potentially thinking, "Pleasepleaseplease don't ask me to babysit."

One evening last year, she responded to our bat-call and watched the kids while Caleb and I went...somewhere. I can't quite remember.

When Caleb and I returned home, we looked up at our apartment's windows and noticed that Lucy's room was lit. I said to Caleb, "Uh-oh, looks like Lucy's awake."

We climbed the stairs and opened the door, expecting a raucous nighttime scene.

Instead, we were greeted by a silent room and a babysitter on the computer. Cari greeted our surprised faces, and we tried to pick up our jaws off the floor.

I explained to Cari that we saw Lucy's light on and expected her to be giving Cari a hard time.

That was when the absurdity began.

Cari then explained to us that Jacko had helped Cari put Lucy to bed. She followed his instructions to the letter, even the directive that "Lucy likes to sleep with the light on." 

Enter forehead slap.

Lucy was, in fact, asleep. However, she fell asleep under duress, since she typically likes the darkest room possible in which to doze. I went down the hallway and flicked the light switch off.

Then, I turned around and asked Cari why she listened to a two-year-old.

"It's Jacko," she said, "I figured he knew what he was talking about."

The Week of W(h)it is a collection of funny stories about my friend Whitney Hardie and the people she knows. Whitney's mother recently died and this project is a way to help her grieve through humor.

The Week of W(h)it: Hold On To Your Snowhats and Sunglasses

Caleb is my husband of almost six years, Whitney's friend, web developer, WoW player, Transformers enthusiast, and owner of a cute behind.

When I was a freshman in college I had the lucky chance to have one of my best friends Paul Burkinshaw as my roommate in the dorms. It made the transition to college life a lot easier.

At the end of my freshman year, Paul and I had to get back home so we piled all of our stuff into his small Dodge Neon for the trip. The plan was that Paul would drop me in Denver so my father could pick me up and then Paul would continue on to Oklahoma from there. Most of the drive was pretty straightforward without anything too exciting happening. We took turns driving and made our way across Rocky Mountains.

And then the weather turned rather ugly. 

I was driving at the time when we had to face the climb up to Eisenhower Tunnel. Unfortunately the road was closed because a semi-truck had jackknifed inside the tunnel. As a result, Paul and I wound up sleeping in the car underneath an overpass for several hours while the mess got cleaned up. It really wasn't that bad except for the fact that snow was falling from the sky at an incredibly fast rate.

By the time we got moving again it was at least 7 or 8 inches deep and packed down into a very treacherous ice-pack on top of the road. The snowplows had been unable to get to our side of the highway due to the wreck in the tunnel. Regardless, up the hill we went and we finally passed through the tunnel. It was the downhill portion that got crazy for us.

On the descent from the tunnel, trucks were flying down one lane with little regard to us in smaller vehicles. I'm a pretty good snow driver so things were going alright for us, until the car in front of us panicked and slammed on their brakes, sliding all over the place. I avoided wrecking into that car by sheer luck, if you ask me, but we wound up stuck in a snow bank as a result. 

Paul, ever the man of action, rolled down his window, climbed out, and stood on top of a metal railing (at least a few hundred feet above a rather steep drop) and started to push the car as I rocked it back and forth to get it unstuck. Oh, and did I mention it was about 2:00 in the morning at this point?

I think at one point his leg got trapped between the rail and car, but he got it unstuck pretty quick.

Remember that ice-pack I mentioned earlier? Yeah.... When the car broke free, I had my foot firmly on the brake but the car wasn't going to stop—I simply started sliding down the hill. 

The problem with that? Paul wasn't in the car. 

Instead, he was running down the hill behind me. I managed to slow enough so that he could grab onto his open window on the passenger side, but he couldn't get the door open. He was holding on an basically skiing down the hill in his sandals. Better yet? More trucks were barreling down the other lane, making it rather dangerous all around. 

Eventually I managed to reach over and pop the door, Paul jumped in, and we safely arrived at the bottom of that hill. 

Let's just say we were glad something was on our side that night.


The Week of W(h)it is a collection of funny stories about my friend Whitney Hardie and the people she knows. Whitney's mother recently died and this project is a way to help her grieve through humor. 

The Week of W(h)it: The Mirror Has Many (Silly) Faces

Enough with the words.

Enough with the jokes.

Enough with the stories.

Let's get down to brass tacks.

Whitney is a photographer, so she enjoys photos more than most people. Therefore, it stands to reason that what she needs right now is an amalgamation of silly photos from some silly people.

No names, no captions, just snapshots.

The Week of W(h)it: Thou Shalt Not Worship Friends

Kellie Chatfield is my littlest sister, Whitney's friend, a WWI flying ace, and a supermodel. One of those things is not true. I am writing this story in her behalf.

For you families out there who are religious, you will be able to understand the nightly scene at the Chatfield house when we were growing up.

Every person in the family slowly congregated in the living room before bedtime; as the stragglers were rushing to finish their phone call/homework/tv show, the remainder of the group got kind of raucous—tickling, jokes, and wrestling abounded. And we were a family of five girls!

We were getting ready to say family prayers together. You know, as you do.

My father assigned one of us to say the prayer each night, and one particular night, it was Kellie's turn.

At the time, she was in the first grade at the oldest; I can't quite remember the particulars, seeing as ages three to six blend together in a melting pot of cuteness for curly-headed Kellie. Don't believe me? Ask for pictures. To.Die.For.

Kellie began her prayer, thanking Heavenly Father for the usual stuff: the beautiful day, the family, the good food we had to eat. The sincerity of the prayer was heart-warming.

Her prayer continued, as she listed other things for which she was grateful. She had a big group of tiny friends at the time, so of course she couldn't forget to talk about them.

She said, "Heavenly Father, I'm grateful that my friends worship me."

And she closed that prayer right up.

She had to, because the rest of us were splitting ourselves open from the inside—holding in a gut-busting laugh is not an easy task! We all knew that Kellie meant she was grateful for her friends, but it's been over 10 years and we still tease her about being her friends' idol.

When God said that thou shalt not bow down to any graven image, do you think he meant every one? I mean, look at this face.

 

 

The Week of W(h)it is a collection of funny stories about my friend Whitney Hardie and the people she knows. Whitney's mother recently died and this project is a way to help her grieve through humor.  

The Week of W(h)it: Open Mouth, Insert Foot (and Wing)

 Brittany Bird is my cousin, Whitney's friend, a graduate school goddess, and a Jane Austen dreamer.

A couple of months ago, I went on a career trip to San Antonio…with five guys. Did I mention that four of them were married? On the first night of our stay, we trekked down to the pool. 

I’m just gonna throw this out there: playing Marco Polo with a bunch of married dudes has probably been the most awkward experience of my life to date!

After a fun (and completely appropriate) hour or two of hot-tubbing and swimming, we toweled off a bit and headed to the elevator. The door opened, revealing two gruff-looking men and cutting off their conversation. My friends and I, still dripping a little bit from the pool, piled into the elevator. And then the awkward elevator silence began.

I mean, we were just standing there! And we had a long way to go! 

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw that one of the men was holding a take-home box from a restaurant and saw the perfect opportunity to break the quiet.

Turning to the man, I said in a cheerful voice, “So how’s the food at…” and then I caught a glimpse of the restaurant name on the box, and I squeaked out the last word—“…H-hooters?” 

Oh gosh. And me—a pretty buxom gal, and the only woman in the elevator, AND dressed in nothing but my bathing suit and a towel. Perfect.

The man replied, “It’s really not as explicit as I remembered.” A pause. “And the hot wings are really good.”

I think I got an “Oh, that’s nice” out before, mercifully, the elevator got to my party’s floor. My friends—all those married boys—held in their laughs just barely long enough to let the doors close. 

That became our joke the rest of the trip. Every time we passed a Hooters I would get, “HEY! Maybe we should go to lunch there! I hear the wings are great!”

And I still haven’t lived it down!

The Week of W(h)it is a collection of funny stories about my friend Whitney Hardie and the people she knows. Whitney's mother recently died and this project is a way to help her grieve through humor.  

The Week of W(h)it: The Influence of Sting on Bird Naming

Julie Miller is my little sister, Whitney's friend, and also Whitney's soon-to-be compadre at Cornell University (where their husbands will be going to graduate school).
 

One spring day long ago, Holly and Whitney were neighbors in the same BYU Student Housing building.

The whole gang was at Holly’s house—the Flanagans, the Hardies, my freshman roommate, and me. I don’t think there was an occasion to celebrate or anything, besides the joys of camaraderie. 

We were sitting around Holly's living room, chatting it up, when we got on the topic of Joe and Whitney’s birdie friends. The Hardies had a cute leafy wreath hanging on their back door, and a bird had built a nest inside it and laid her eggs.

We all got to talking about what to name the cute little feathered friends. People were throwing out names left and right, mostly silly ones of course.

Then someone said, “How about Roxanne?” Whitney replied in voice haute, “Roxanne is a slutty name!”

I guess she had forgotten that my roommate, Roxy, was sitting not five feet away from her. The whole room went quiet for a split second, and turned their collective eyes to Roxy. She paused too, but the room's silence quickly turned to laughter.

We all busted a gut at Whitney’s expense, and I hope she wasn’t too embarrassed. It was a totally classic Whitney thing to do, and we love her for it!

The Week of W(h)it is a collection of funny stories about my friend Whitney Hardie and the people she knows. Whitney's mother recently died and this project is a way to help her grieve through humor. 

The Week of W(h)it: Choice Words and Misplaced Affection

Whitney makes friends wherever she goes, and sometimes she shares those friends with me. 

But I haven't always been there to experience the funny times our friends have. Here are a few first-hand accounts of silly things that have happened.

Shawna Packer, dreamboat and a half.

One time, we were walking back to our cars from an event on BYU campus. Another couple commented on how nice their car looked because her husband had just washed it.

Whitney's retort was "Look at my car. It looks like [my husband] Joe just took a dump on it."

I'm not entirely sure why, but that's my husband Ed's favorite. It always gets him rolling.

Joe Dixon, our adorable friend from church while we all attended BYU.

There was one time that we were at church in the good ol' BYU ward.

My wife Liz and Whitney were wearing very similar black sweaters that day. A group of us were talking towards the front of the chapel. Liz was not with me, as she was talking to someone elsewhere in the chapel.

When out of the corner of my eye, I saw a girl who I thought was Liz come stand next to me. I put my arm around her but kept talking without looking at who it was.

A minute later, I looked over—it was Whitney with an embarrassed look on her face. Poor Joe didn't look any better.

The Week of W(h)it is a collection of funny stories about my friend Whitney Hardie and the people she knows. Whitney's mother recently died and this project is a way to help her grieve through humor.

The Week of W(h)it: Moth Protomorphosis Disease

The Week of W(h)it is a collection of funny stories about my friend Whitney Hardie and the people she knows. Whitney's mother recently died and this project is a way to help her grieve through humor. 

In June 2007, after taking Caleb to work for the day, I got in a near collision with a driver turning left in front of me. I was so shaken, as it was pretty much my first ever disaster like that, so I called into work, saying I'd be there a bit later.

I called Caleb and told him the news; we talked online for awhile before he said, "So, what if we moved into Apt. 424 today?" This apartment was in our quad of the BYU Student Housing, so we would still know our neighbors.

I thought it was harmless, because there was no way that Caleb would move right before our California trip AND when we were both working the next day. Unfortunately, I called his bluff and before we knew it, we had a key to our new place and two days to move everything and clean the old apartment.

Wow. What? No.

But, it all happened. I mean, our stuff in the new place was semi-chaotic and we had basically exhausted ourselves, which is a completely smart thing to do right before a big road trip.

Wow. What? No.

A story that came from all this moving is the terrible tale of the Moth disease.

We had just finished cleaning the old apartment. I was carrying Caleb's suit on its hanger and rolling our suitcase along in the blackened night.

When suddenly, from the left, a large moth flew into my left eye and slashed my retina to disable me. After that was so deftly done, he barrel-rolled into my cornea and then bit the skin below my eye to poison me.

I did a bend-backy Matrix move and dropped the suitcase, scooping the moth from inside my eye and throwing him across the quad. Immediately, I called out for Caleb, who was walking pretty far ahead of me. No avail. He did not hear me.

And for a couple weeks after the attack, it was numb where the moth bit me and when I blinked, a sharp pain coursed through my face. I had been semi-permanently disabled by a two-inch moth.

Was it deadly?

We're still waiting to see. Four years later.

But I still pull that Matrix move any time I see a moth come near me.