The year 2009 will be dedicated to . . .

Randy - who was so sweet and shy when he asked if he could kiss me.
He who shall not be named - because he is now the very dear husband of a very dear friend.
Edward - who wrote me love poems and songs in our trig class.
Anonymous - for leaving "anonymous" notes in my locker.
Jimmy - for being so obvious, he was borderline stalker.
Travis - who first taught me what love could feel like.
D.Y. - for making fun of Travis for having a crush on me and with that, crushing my self-esteem.
Gene - who showed up at my apartment to ask my out in his mascot uniform because he believed it was cool.
Justin - who fed me well and frequently.
Jim - who helped me realize that a girl could get anything she wanted with a cute smile and a sly look.
Brad & Patrick - who taught me how much fun it was to be fought over.
Alex & Rhett - who taught me the same thing, all over again.
Brady - who reminds me that true love really does exist, every time he looks at MJ.
Jaris - whom I had to stop dating because our names were too similar and it was just too cheezie for me.
Lee - who thought he could get away with kissing one of my best friends and then come cuddling up on me when she left the room.
Mike - who will always be the one that got away.
Joe - (the security guy) who protected me from all of the crazy guys that were shopping. *gasp*
Bill - who was just fun to look at.
Carlos - for shamelessly flirting with me even though I was WAY too old for him.
Joe - (the other one) who first opened the door for me into other cultures.
Scott - who was too shy to do anything about it.
Adam & Jethro - who were never more than friends but have meant more to me than any other guys in my life.
Josh - who was way too excited about the concept of marriage.
Jered - who gave me free film and developing so he could butter me up to ask me out.
Dave - for letting me be his first "real girlfriend".
Eric - who taught me that love isn't always enough.
The guy with the dreadlocks whose name I can't remember - for reminding me why I'd never date a smoker (like licking and ashtray, I tell ya).
John - (28 day boy) who showed me that some people really do just want to get married and it doesn't matter to whom.
Jared - (the other one) for lacking the logic that would give him any sense of commitment (see true story).
Larry - for always asking the hard questions.
Chuck - for always making me laugh.
Hector - for giving me the chance to win over his friends.
Vic - for his formality and old fashioned way of thinking.
"Rick" (not his real name) - for giving me one of the GREATEST bad date stories of all time.
Joel - for teaching me what TRUE heartbreak feels like.
The dude that taught at my gym - for making me feel self-conscious in class, but in a good way.
Andy - for getting jealous every time I'd talk to one of his friends.
Tejus - who fizzled quicker than he sizzled but always made me feel better about myself.
My brothers - who helped me develop a thick skin and an easy-going sense of humor.
My Dad - who taught me that I deserve better.

So here's to 2009 and to a year full of love and laughter and the good kind of tears and a year free of heartache and pain. I hope everyone had a great Christmas and has an even better new year!
xoxo
Jj

I miss . . .

making mud pies and believing it was chocolate.

climbing to the highest branch just to look down.

believing my father was a superhero.

road trips with my sister, because she would sing with me.

going shopping with my mom, and getting something new.

knowing that I could never fail.

the time before I realized that we were poor.

being able to see my best friend everyday.

the plans we made for our futures.

playing hide and seek with my nieces and nephews.

the way he used to look at me.

trusting him when he said he would love me forever.

believing that he could never tell a lie.

lying on the patio to dry after running through the sprinklers.

jumping so high on the trampoline that I felt I could fly.

believing it would all end happily ever after.

being excited about the idea of losing teeth.

having butterflies in my stomach on Christmas Eve.

believing that it really is the thought that counts.

the excitement of the first kiss.

sitting by the phone, knowing that he would call.

being innocently optimistic about the future.

homemade meals around my mom's kitchen table.

feeling the cool breeze off the bay in San Francisco everyday.

seeing the sunrise over the ocean each morning.

laying in the sun reading magazines and eating red grapes with her.

the one-on-one help I received in high school.

having homework assignments that my mom could help me with.

knowing that my father believed I was perfect.

believing that I was doing everything I could to be perfect.

having the body of a 22-year-old and not just the face.

being able to eat anything I wanted and still maintain that body.

believing that one day, I really would succeed.

knowing that true love really did exist.

trusting that he was out there.

being small enough to ride our dog like a horse.

playing make-believe with my paper dolls.

knowing that I could call any time of the day or night and the phone would be answered.

making Christmas wish lists from the Sears catalog.

building forts in the snow with my brothers.

feeling agonizing heartbreak and knowing that I'd get through it.

having faith that prayer can solve all of my problems.

knowing that to that one person, I was that one person.

really believing that blood really was thicker than water.

holding onto my baggage with white knuckles.

being able to let go.


This is open to everyone - what do you miss?

entertainment . . .

I've been reading the blogs of various friends and families members and they're all so entertaining because the majority of them have hilarious children and fumbling spouses to write about. And all I have is Chuck the Wonder Dog (who I'm very happy to report has figured out that the big plastic dome in the backyard is indeed intended to be shelter for him) and while he's funny, I'd really rather have something more to write about. So with that, I've decided to make a list of things that I think I need to get in my life to make my blog more entertaining for the masses . . .
1. A handyman husband with his own TV show where he has a plaid wearing assistant who is really the brains behind the operation.

2. 2.5 children: a daughter that's an honor student, a son that's a womanizing trouble maker and . . well, we'll leave the .5 up for interpretation.

3. A really cool, really expensive high tech car that talks back to me with whitty comebacks and snide remarks.

4. Absolutely adorable twin Feti who will one day take over the world by becoming President and Vice President making the country a bit of a Hansen Family Monopoly.

5. I'm totally stumped but I'm sure there are more things that I need . . anyone got any suggestions? Maybe I should try cyberdating. (insert uncomfortable, self depreciating, slightly sob like laugh here)

Step Aside BFF's

Because there's a new e-BFF in town. Sorry MMRJ - you ladies have been replaced (mostly cuz you're all burnettes and that makes my heart hurt). A chika of mine from work introduced me to Tiffany/Amber/Megan/Nicole and we've been attached at the hip ever since - well digitally, anyway. She lives the most perfect life and she's so pretty and so super fun. I've done nothing but read her blog since she added me as a friend on Facebook. She also gives the best advice ever to old maids like myself. I knew I was doing something wrong but I never really understood what it was. Turns out that not only am I TOOOO educated but I also don't wear enough mascara! I mean, who knew that a simple layer of mascara and dumbing it down a little bit is all that has been standing in the way of me and my eternal companion? OMG! For the rest of you old maids out there that are in some desperate need of some guidence and direction please refere to TAMNers blog post on the subject.

And while you're reading I'm heading off to my craft room to add some words to the butt of my sweatpants (I'm thinking maybe I <3 JJWT) then I'm going to go shave my arms. Busy, busy, busy. I'm so uber busy and I've got tons of errands to run. Remember ladies, "It's not a lie if it catches the guy."

Repeat thrice.

"Poetry"

My minor in college was literature and with that I was required to take multiple creative writing classes - my writing style of choice was poetry because I could get my point across in a matter of a few stanzas rather than pages and pages of paragraphs that ultimately summed up to nothing. So with pen in hand I spent a lot of time for a lot of years jotting down everything I could about every happiness and every heartache I experienced or witnessed. And I jotted it everywhere - notebooks, napkins, candy wrappers, and even more than one wall.

This evening I was thinking about how much I used to enjoy that part of my life and started to wonder why I didn't write like that anymore (unless you consider all of the total crap I post on my blog to be creative writing) and in all honesty, it didn't take me very long to figure it out. I pulled out an old notebook of my writing (that's got multiple napkins and paper towels tucked into the pages, as well) and I realized that everything I wrote back then was about men, love, happiness, heartbreak, pain and sorrow. And since I swore off all men a couple of years ago I haven't had any of that to write about. So rather than post some exciting and heart wrenching new prose that I've penned, I'm totally going to recycle and give you a glimpse into my past and maybe you'll understand my "man ban" a little better . . . (and be prepared for more of this in the future because I'm sure this won't be the last time that I'm desperate for something to post and decided to steal from my past)

Reflections
I looked at her
she looked at me
eyes full of wonder
and childish glee
where did she go?
where could she be?
that curious reflection
staring back at me

Mistakes
I'm losing my mind
I can't force a smile
Lock the doors
Lie down inside
Pretend the hurt's not there
If people can't ask
I don't have to say
I've made a mistake
And pushed you away

I know
I loved your witty sense of humor
until you used it to cut me down
I loved the way you held me at night
until you smothered me in sleep
I loved the sparkle in your eyes
until it turned to anger
I guess you could say
I loved everything about you
until I knew the you you hide

Feelings of Love
Love is that dizzy feeling.
Love is the butterflies in your stomach.
Love is that passionate fever.
Love is an accelerated heartbeat.
Love is the need to hold on.
Love is the desire to let go.
Ironically, motion sickness,
feels a lot like love.

true story
"She broke it off," he told me.
She cried to him that she felt used.
Said he didn't spend enough time with her.
He shrugged sadly, admitting she walked away.

"You want to know where you went wrong?
Is that why you're coming to me?"
He sighed, again, and said, "She felt used."
I smiled, and told him what I know.

"There are two types of people," I said,
"In these 'using' relationships."
I informed him, rather bluntly,
"You can't use anyone without their permission."

"There are those who want to be used,
and those who are using you in return."
"Which of those are you?" he quizzed.
I smiled, contently, and took another bite
- of my free lunch.

Guilty Pleasures

I've said it before and I'll be the first to say it again - I'm a loser with no life. And I think the worst part about that is the fact that I just don't really care. I'm perfectly fine with being a loser. I'm totally good with coming home from work nearly every evening, taking my dog for a walk, hitting the gym and curling up with a book (or more likely, the remote control). And with that . . . I've got absolutely nothing interesting to tell anyone on my blog. So I thought I'd pull a cop-out and make another list - it's easy and I don't have to try too hard to be creative. So here goes with my top ten list of guilty pleasures:

1. Shoes - I HATE wearing shoes but I LOVE buying them and I really LOVE how good shoes look. Nothing can make you feel as good as a new pair of shoes that you know look hot. I've got red ones, green ones, strappy ones, purple ones, blue ones, knee high boots, black ones, ankle boots, gray, brown, turquoise, white, cream, orange . . . I could go on but I'm sure you're bored right about now.


2. Dark Chocolate - Ask anyone who has ever met me. Dark chocolate is a staple part of my diet and I think I'd give up air first . .

3. Books - I have shelves and shelves of books. It's a virtual library in my house. I go through cycles. For about three months I'll do nothing but read during every spare moment and then I'll go for six weeks without even realizing I'm still in the middle of one I started clear back when. However, no matter where I am in my reading cycle, it NEVER stops me from buying them. One day I'll blow the dust off my library card and try using that instead but for some reason it just doesn't have the same appeal as owning what I read.

4. The Disney Channel - I get so sick of some of the crap that's on the rest of the channels that I often turn on Disney for background noise or if there's nothing else on. And in the interest of full disclosure, I think I've seen EVERY episode of Hannah Montana (including the season premier that was on this evening). Yup, I'm a loser but my 10 year-old niece thinks I'm freakin' awesome because I catch on when she quotes the show.

5. Food - I'm not so much of a food eater as I am a food buyer. (I'm noticing a lot of my guilty pleasures involve me buying things. But I guess that's what makes them guilty.) I've had canned food go bad, for heaven's sake. And that takes YEARS. If it's on sale and I'm craving it, I buy it. But rarely do I ever eat it. It's more of a comfort thing than anything else and it makes me feel better to know that it's there.


6. Milk - Whether it's chocolate milk or just plain old white milk I LOVE it. Milk is the first thing I have every morning and usually the last thing I have in the evening. There's no better feeling than the first gulp of cold milk in the morning and honestly I easily drink three gallons a week. But a big old PS on that - I HATE cheese.

7. Music - It doesn't matter if it's a live concert of if it's on my iPod while I'm on the elliptical I love music. I know I've mentioned this before (although now the number is higher) but I've got 11.8 days worth of music on my laptop alone. Plus probably another 8 or 9 days worth on my iMac, and then there's my computer at work . . Plus probably over 150 CD's that are in cases around my house and car that haven't been uploaded to my computer yet. Music helps me escape reality and I love it.


8. Nail Polish - I rarely ever paint my finger nails but it's even more rare to see me without my toe nails painted. And even though I've probably got 50+ bottles in a rainbow of colors (probably more colors than my shoes) most likely my toes will be some shade of red or deep purple.

9. Solitaire - I know it's stupid and it only drives the point home that I'm a loser with no life (I mean really, whose favorite game is one that can only be played alone?), but it doesn't matter if I'm watching TV or balancing my checkbook - if I've got my computer in front of me there's a 98.7% chance that I've got a game of solitaire going on in the background. I get really annoyed when I'm waiting for things to load so I play games to pass the time. Problem is, I get distracted by the games and then whatever task I was trying to accomplish takes me twice as long.


10. People Watching - It doesn't matter where I am - the mall, the grocery store, church or sitting at a traffic light - I always watch the people around me. I make up stories about what they're doing or why they're there or what they do for a living and how that guy is that they're with. I live vicariously through strangers. And I see EVERYTHING. If you've ever done anything embarrassing in front of me, I can guarantee that I saw it but I totally lied so that you wouldn't feel stupid. If you tripped up the stairs or dribble water down your shirt, I'll tell you I didn't notice . . but don't believe me. Because I absolutely saw it and I'm just a good liar.

So there you have it - call it guilty or call it a pleasure but either way, those are the things I enjoy the most.

Wild Flowers in October

Okay, this is probably going to be my lamest post as of yet but I had to tell someone so you can now count yourself as the lucky 'one.' Last spring when I was shopping for flowers to plant in my backyard (almost all of which were quickly killed by my dog) I found this packet of wildflower seeds that I thought were really interesting. It was just a piece of paper with the flower seeds in it and you only had to lay it across the soil and water it. Anyway, it didn't take long for it to begin to grow but I only got one or two blossoms off it all summer long. Needless to say, I was disappointed. However, I went out there a few days ago and found that in the middle of October, my wildflowers had finally decided to blossom - even with the freezing temperatures. And I was so excited by this and thought it was so unusual that I took pictures to prove it. These pics were taken this morning before I left for work. I just hope that all of those little buds blossom before they really do freeze or my dog decides that they're part of his territory too.

Yet Another Tag - 3 Things About Me

First, I must apologize to the two or three people that actually read my blog. Because, really, no one wants to know this much about me. But since I was singled out (well, not really cuz she listed other people but whatever) in Maria's post I have to do it anyway. I am however, very excited about the fact that I don't have to be creative and try to make up something cool to talk about cuz my life is fairly lame and nothing exciting has happened in a while. So no worries, you don't actually have to read it. Just close the freakin' window and you're home free!


What are the last three things you purchased (aside from groceries)?
1. Eyeshadow from Clinique (it's bonus days, who can pass that up?)
2. A pair of purple 4" stillhettos (can't wear them with my stupid sprained ankle but I have them and they make me happy)
3. A pedicure

What are the last three songs you downloaded to your iPod?
1. Home - Foo Fighters
2. The Show - Lenka
3. White Horse - Taylor Swift

What are three of your favorite movies?
1. Breakfast at Tiffany's
2. Benny and Joon
3. Stardust

What are three things you have not done yet?
1. Carved a statue
2. Swam with sharks
3. Ran a marathon

What are three things you can't live without?
1. my iPod
2. my purple 4" stillhettos
3. my heart

What are your three favorite dishes?
1. Lettuce Wraps from PF Chang
2. Anything else from a good Chinese restaurant
3. Homemade chicken noodle soup

What are three of your favorite tv shows?
1. The Big Bang Theory
2. Psych
3. Burn Notice (where else can you learn how to make a bomb from a tennis ball and a clothes pin?)

What are three of your favorite desserts?
1. Brownie Sundae
2. Banana Split
3. Okay, lets be honest, anything with chocolate

What are the last three places you traveled to that are more than 100 miles away?
1. Crawdad Canyon
2. Denver
3. Seattle

What are three things you'd buy if money weren't an issue?
1. All new camera equipment and a studio to store it in
2. A leer jet
3. a really fast and really cool car that was invisible to all police radar type equipment

So there you have it. Love me or hate me, this is me in a nutshell with a little sarcasm mixed in. Do with it what you will.

Tag: 6 Random Things About Me

So Marion posted this a week or so ago and I "virtually argued" with her about whether or not I was going to fall into the tagging vortex. But in the spirit of my new self awareness I've decided to follow suit - so here goes.

PS To read the entire conversation between Marion and myself please refer to her Random Post

1. I can't begin my day without chocolate milk.
From the time I was in high school - maybe even younger - I have started everyday (well, every day that started before noon) with a glass of chocolate milk. My mom only buys the chocolate powder but since the day I started buying my own groceries it was Hershey syrup or nothing for me. And, unfortunately for Marion, I rubbed off on her children. Jet now refused to use powdered chocolate and on multiple occasions has attempted to steal the syrup out of my fridge when he was visiting.

2. I organize my closet in a rainbow pattern.
What can I say? I have A LOT of clothes. When you're single you've got no one else to spend your money on and with that you end up with a huge overstuffed closet. It just makes it easier to find my favorite top if I know approximately where it is. And even with the two huge trash bags I filled for the DI last week my closet still seems to be busting at the seams (pun intended).

3. Contrary to popular belief, I was not named after Janis Joplin.
Okay, so no one really believes that, but it's still one of my favorite "exaggerations". Against my mother's wishes I've often told people that my name is spelled like it is because my parents were hippies and the whole farm thing was a sham that they used to hide the weed they had growing in between the corn rows. (Most people don't catch on to the fact that my parents are too old to be hippies and my dad enlisted during the Korean war, not Vietnam.) But makes for a much better story than, "My mom spelled it phonetically so my dad, who's a bad speller, would get it right. But she didn't know he had a friend growing up named Janice." As a side note, my dad spelled my name wrong until I was in high school

5. I'm slightly dyslexic.
But only when it comes to numbers. ;-) I discovered this in a math class in high school. Marion and I would spend hours studying for tests and going over all of the formulas and everything that we needed to know. And I'd know exactly how to do everything but somehow always did really poorly on the tests. So she checked one for me once and discovered that on every problem I'd gotten wrong I'd transposed or mixed up my numbers in some ridiculous way. Sadly, I still manage to do the same thing when balancing my checkbook.

4. I can't spell the word awesome, without doing the cheer in my head.
It's sad, but true. And to make matters worse, I also mentally do the actions and imagine jumping around in a short skirt flashing my crotch to the crowd. How's that for a visual?

6. My name is Janis, and I'm a musiholic.
On my laptop I currently have 3,307 songs. And that's just on my laptop. I have another 3,000 or so on my iMac. And I've probably got a couple hundred CD's stored away that I've yet to upload to my collection. I know to some people that really isn't that much, but when you consider that out of that 10,000 or so songs I know all of the lyrics to about 98% of them it becomes a little more impressive. . to me at least.

And I guess with that, I am done. So, if you've read my six random things above then that means it's now your turn. You have officially been tagged.
Good luck with that!

Being Shallow Makes for a Very Dull World

In recent weeks I've been reading the many blog posts of my best friends and experiencing with them the things they care about and love the most in their lives. They talk about their families, their children, their pets and their hobbies. They ponder their motives, their faith, their goals and their futures. And by reading about their lives I'm noticing a few things about my own. And two of the most poignant things I've discovered is that I live a very shallow and boring life. I've kept everything up to this point - on the surface. I've never posted anything about anything that actually mattered. There's never been anything meaningful or insightful or even really that thoughtful on my blog or even in any of my recent conversations for that matter. I'm random, off the wall and, well . . . shallow. Other people share with me and I listen and tell them what I think about the situation but rarely do I share anything with them unless it's just a silly punchline or the latest story about something stupid I did.

It's not that I don't think the "deep thoughts" or over-analyze things when I'm not making jokes. It's more like I'd rather just keep everything at arms length as long as other people are involved. If I don't put myself out there and go to activities or date or even just hang out with friends then I don't ever have to worry about getting hurt. Don't get me wrong, I have my closest friends and those few people probably know me better than anyone. And while I've opened up to each of them individually on separate occasions, I've found that it's become more and more rare.

I don't think I've always been this way. . . well, not totally. I have always been guarded and I've ALWAYS hated talking about myself but not usually with those that matter most. I guess with broken hearts and broken promises comes strong and thick walls. So that being said I think I may just try to let some people in. Now don't get too excited. (MJ, I can see you doing your happy dance and I want you to tone it down a little bit) I still don't want to be set up on dates. I'm not going to suddenly change my mind and try internet dating. I'm not going to make friends with people in the grocery store and I'm not going to get close to my visiting teacher. I'm not going to start going to ward activities (they're so totally lame) and I'm still not a fan of being tagged via blog and forced to make lists about me and only me because as I've said, I find my life boring and I don't have much of a one to talk about. But in an effort to become closer to those people that matter most I've decided to start using my blog to let them get into my mind a little more (as scary as that may be to some of you).

And, I've decided to start with this new goal tonight. So here goes. A couple of nights ago I was out with my Yaya's and we were discussing the whole personality color thing and what everyone leans toward and what catagory they fit into. MJ and MS both insisted that I was a blue. Meaning that I allow my life to be run by my emotions. Without knowing anything about the colors or what they stood for I disagreed. And as usual, I thought (and did not say) that I felt that while I had emotional reactions to everything, (I am female, after all) I believe I am pretty good at compartmentalizing and not taking the emotions of one situation and infusing them into another. i.e. I don't let family stress dictate what's happening at work and I don't let work stuff change what's going on in my personal realtionships.

So in this quest for self acutulization, if you will, I searched out this test online just to see if anyone really knows the "real me". And I've discovered that I am not the only one still looking for myself. According to the Color Code, here is my personality:

36% White: (Motive: PEACE)—These are the peacekeepers. Peace, or the absence of conflict, is what motivates and drives these people. They bring great gifts of clarity and tolerance and are generally kind, adaptable, good-listeners.

28% Yellow: (Motive: Fun)—These are the fun lovers. Fun, or the joy of doing something just for the sake of doing it, is what motivates and drives these people. They bring great gifts of enthusiasm and optimism and are generally charismatic, spontaneous, and sociable.

20% Blue: (Motive: INTIMACY)—These are the do-gooders. Intimacy, connecting, creating quality relationships and having purpose is what motivates and drives these people. They bring great gifts of quality and service and are generally loyal, sincere, and thoughtful.

16% Red: (Motive: POWER)—These are the power wielders. Power, the ability to move from point A to point B, and get things done is what motivates and drives these people. They bring great gifts of vision and leadership and generally are responsible, decisive, proactive and assertive.

Honestly, after reading these descriptions and seeing my percentages - I feel even more confused about who I am and what motivates me. Maybe one day, with the help of my friends, I'll get it all figured out.

Bad Luck With Chuck (thanks for the title, Marion)

I think the title says it all. I love my dog but he tends to be a weaver when we're running. Even when on a path or a sidewalk he weaves all over the place trying to mark his territory as a four mile radius around my house. Plus, it's in his breed to run in front of me at all times. He's part Alaskan Malamute and they're pulling dogs. He'll be trotting along at a decent speed but if he realized that I'm next to him or catching up he'll sprint a few steps to get in front of me and we'll do this over and over again for a good 3 or 4 miles run.

Anyway, back to the point of my story. I came home from work last night with the intention of taking him for at least a two mile run (on my sprained ankle - again an accident that happened with him in tow) and then grabbing a quick dinner and heading to a late yoga class. I was less than 50 yards from my front door, actually just coming into the driveway where Chuck and I were just finishing up a quarter mile sprint when, as expected, we weaved in front of me. So I was paying attention to what he was doing, trying not to trip over or kick him as I ran and missed the point were the sidewalk raised up above the lawn. So my toe just barely caught on it and I went down on the sidewalk. Graceful, huh? The best part is that I had his leash in my right hand and my iPod in my left because I was tracking my sprint so I didn't have a hand free to catch myself. I landed on my left side and bruised my shoulder and ribs. I also scrapped up my left hand and my arm pretty good. But here's the weirdest part . . I've got a scrape on each knee . . but not on the lower part of my knee where one would usually land when falling. Nope, these scrapes are both ABOVE my kneecaps. How on earth did I land above my knees?? I guess there is one bright side to my story - I was wearing dark colors and it was dark outside so it's doubtful that many people saw my runway momen. Of course, now I've written about it on my blog so I guess I'm just setting myself up anyway, huh? Oh well. I'm sure I'll survive. However, I was feeling the pain and took a Tylenol PM and skipped the yoga class.

Rocking the High Heels

So about a week and a half ago I was out running on a trail in East Kaysville with my dog, Chuck. We'd been going for about a half mile when I came around a corner to find there was a bunch of loose rock. And lucky me, I twisted my ankle. It didn't really hurt so I didn't think much of it and continued on my run. The next day, I went out again. This time I did about three miles with a quarter mile sprint at the end. No problem. So on Sunday I put on heels to go to church and that just about killed me! My ankle started to swell and eventually it was no longer an ankle . . it was a cankle (for those of you that don't know, a cankle is when your calf just blends into your ankle, making your leg the same diameter all the way down to the top of your foot). But it really didn't hurt to walk on - unless in heels - so I didn't let it stop me. I went to St. George on the following Monday afternoon to go rock climbing in Crawdad Canyon for a couple days. And then I came back and continued running, doing yoga, going to spin classes etc etc. Nothing stopped me until I went to church again the next Sunday and again, the heels made for a very long three hours. So at the pushing of my friends I went to the doctor on Monday and because of where it was tender he was concerned and took xrays. Luckily, nothing is broken and it's just a bad sprain, which is was I suspected. So he gave me this very sexy ankle brace to wear (since I plan on hiking to the summit of Mount Timpanogas on Saturday). But don't think for one second that I allowed the brace to stop me from rocking the heels. See attached photo.

Have you ever wondered . .

about directions on food packages that say things like, "please tear along line"? Really, why so polite? Are they afraid people might be insulted and feel like they're being forced into doing things they don't want to do if they aren't asked nicely? Did they receive one too many comment emails saying that people felt their directions were too forceful and 'direct'? Or maybe they're afraid of renegade patrons running a muck and tearing the packet vertically rather than horizontally and spilling their ramen noodle flavor packet all over the counter instead of in the noodles . . . I've really got no direction with this. I'm just saying that I find it a little strange . .

Awkward Dude

So I had to go to the post office yesterday to send a package. It was virtually empty except for the woman working there, the woman she was helping and myself. I'd been standing there for about a minute holding some bills and a very small package that I was mailing when a man in his late 40's walked in. At first I didn't think anything about him until he got into earshot. He wasn't humming, he wasn't whistling, he wasn't mumbling lyrics under his breath like most of us do. Nope - he was singing! Full out singing a song and it wasn't one of those things where he was listening to his iPod and singing along, he was just giving us all an up close and personal concert. Everyone turned to look at him but then tried desperately to not actually stare. It's funny the details you notice when you try to avoid eye contact with someone else. For instance, were you aware of the fact that the post office is selling Frank Sinatra commemorative stamps? The best part of the awkward dude was the fact that he didn't stop singing when we all looked at him, he finished the last two verses of his song. He actually looked at me like he expected me to sing along - maybe even do a little dance, High School Musical style.

When he finish (with a flourish, I might add) he turned to me, with a sly smile and a very unsubtle up and down, and said, "Looks like you've got your hands full." To which I could only respond with, "It's a tough job." And the whole thing made me wonder, was that really a performance or more of a serenade?

The Road Trip P.S.

After a week on the road with my bro and his family I got back to my car in the long term parking and found that I was missing a hubcap. Guess we didn't get it back on tight and I lost it along the way. It's going to cost me about $50 to replace it but it must be done . . . driving around without a hubcap is like walking around with only one shoe. It's really hard to act cool when you look lopsided.

The Road Trip

My mom is nothing if not supportive. She once said to me, “I’ve never met anyone in my entire life that has the luck that you do. In your world, if something can go wrong, inevitably it will.” Thanks for the encouragement, Mom. And the bad luck continues . . .

I woke last Wednesday morning frazzled and hurried knowing that no matter how prepared I was I would be in a rush all day long. I was on my way to Seattle to help my brother and his family pack up their things and move to Denver where my brother is starting grad school. I was almost done packing the night before but it never seems to be enough. I watered the plants and put my dog out and put all of my luggage into the car and then headed off to the airport with plenty of time to spare. I was only about two miles from my house when something flipped up and hit my undercarriage. I was on the phone with my credit card making a payment for the month before I left town and didn’t do anything more than glance in my rear view mirror to see if I could tell what it was that hit me but I didn’t see anything so I just continued on my way. Less then ten seconds later my front drivers side tire didn’t blow – it just went flat. It was the weirdest thing I’ve ever seen. After a few choice four letter words I basically hung up on the credit card lady and pulled off to the side of highway 89. I started pulling all of the luggage out of my trunk and moving my camera equipment and laptop into the front so that it was sitting on the side of the highway. Just as I was pulling the cover off my spare tire a good Samaritan pulled up and offered to help, so I let him. He went to pull out my spare and realized that it too was totally flat. Good times. He offered to take my spare to the gas station up the road and fill it up while I made the phone calls I had to make to the airline and to my brother that was suppose to be picking me up at the airport in Seattle. He was back within a matter of minutes and said that there was nothing that he could do because there was a big hole in my spare (do you now understand what my mom was getting at?).

See, last November I ran over a piece of loose concrete in the drive thru at the back that had been left there from some recent construction. So I put on my spare and just bought all new tires because they were all getting pretty bald anyway. Anyway, turns out that they put on new tires and instead of putting my spare back in my trunk, they tossed it (brand new tire, by the way) and left the old one with the hole in it in my trunk.

So I called my friend Wendy to come pick me up so that I could take my spare back to Goodyear and get things figured out. We tossed it into the back of her mini-SUV and headed back into town. It took them about 15 minutes to figure things out because of course they didn’t want to take responsibility but eventually they fixed my tire and gave me back a new spare. Wendy called her husband to come change the tire so that we wouldn’t have to since he just worked up the road and he met us at my car on the side of the road. In a matter of minutes I was back on the road and headed to the airport. I still missed my flight but was able to hop the next one and still get to Seattle. But of course . . my sister-in-law got stuck in major construction traffic and was over 20 minutes late picking me up so I got to hangout in the Seattle airport with the other unwanted riffraff. One day I’m going go on a trip and not almost die. Sigh.

Blockbuster

I’ve got issues. It’s okay, I’ll admit it. And it’s common knowledge that the first step to recovery is admitting that you’ve got a problem. So, here goes . . . I cannot go into Blockbuster alone. I always feel like an idiot walking around places like that by myself. I know that no one even notices that I’m there but I can’t help feeling like everyone is staring at me and thinking, “Aaww . . . how sad. She has no friends.” I know that it’s no big deal and that no one is going to look at me twice or even pay attention to the fact that I’m there but it’s my own insecurity.

When I go into a grocery store I always wear my iPod so I look distracted and can avoid eye contact with people I don’t know. That way they won’t notice how uncomfortable I feel about buying all of that food for no one but myself. I’ve never eaten at a restaurant alone, I’ve never been to a movie theater on my own. I don’t like going to the mall without company and I’d rather pay delivery charges then go into a restaurant to pick up takeout. Yet, when I’m at home, I hate having people around. It’s nice to occasionally have someone over to watch a movie or for dinner or whatever, but for the most part, I’d rather hang out solitary. My roommate is nice enough and we're friends and we have a good time together but I relish my nights alone when she goes out of town, not because she's gone but just because I can spend some time alone.

I’ve been told time and time again that I need to get over my fear of PDA’s (Public Display of Aloneness) and just accept it and in all honesty, I believe I have. Just not in the way they want me to. See, the problem is, I’m in no hurry to get over my issues. Because with recovery I might one day be comfortable being solo in public, but then I’d still have go into Blockbuster alone.

Irony?

So last week I was driving down probably the second busiest street in Layton after making a stop at the Home Depot for replacement sprinkler heads (of which I fixed and replaced myself, thank you very much. Yes, I'm one of those kind of sexy self-reliant girls). Anyway, on my way down the street I got stuck behind a Chevy Tracker doing at least ten miles under the speed limit. Under normal circumstances I would have just given it a little gas and passed them illegally on the right and cut them off to make my left at the light but I'd just been helped by a very sweet old man at HD and felt that maybe I should spread the love. So instead I rode along behind them rocking out to a Low Book Sales commercial and going less than 3o miles and hour down Main Street and holding out for that left hand turn lane. At the last second the aforementioned Tracker cut into the lane in front of me making me immediately regret my earlier kindness.
However, as soon as I stopped behind them at the light I changed my mind again. I love puzzles and this was one. When it comes to people and their cars I normally expect their decorations to portray something in their personality. You see a guy with an apple sticker and you expect someone artistic and maybe a little geeky. You see a man with huge smoke stack looking things on their truck and you expect to see an egotistical cowboy. You see the blond with the Mardi Gras beads and you expect to see breast implants. You see a bald man in a convertible and you expect . . well, you get the idea. Anyway, when I saw the tortoise of a Tracker, I didn't expect to see the Jeff Gordon Nascar license plate frame! But alas, that is exactly what was there. I began to ponder about the story behind this confused mini-SUV. Was it stolen? Borrowed by a less rednecked friend? Lost? Insecure about it's horsepower? Seriously, what was up with this? I was less than two miles from home but I debated on the possibilities the entire way there. I came up with many, many ideas (that I won't bore you with here) cuz my mind is just quick like that (unlike the Tracker).
When I got home I was still pondering the quiz and told my roommate the story. Apparently, the snail car isn't the only one being powered by confused drivers in Utah. She said that just the week before she'd been on I-15 and passed a sports car doing about 55 in a 65. But the best part of that one isn't that it was a sports car. It was the personalized license plate. I'm not sure if they were saying it because they thought they were fast or or because they knew they were slow but the sentiment works either way. The sporty plate said a very simple, "See Ya." Go figure.

"If I ever become like that . . .

promise me that you'll run me over with my own car." Most of my close friends and family have heard me say that many times when describing things I never wanted to be, i.e. ditzy, or mentally blond rather than just physically. However, in a spree of uncoordinated stupid moves, last Friday started out just that way . . . with me almost running myself over with my own car. I know what you're thinking, "How on earth did you manage such a stupid (blond) thing?" Well, I'll tell you. I had just pulled up outside my office and had a bunch of stuff in the passenger side that I needed to take into work. So I unlocked the doors and walked around the back side of the car to get everything out. Just as I walked around the rear passenger corner of my Jetta it began to roll backward and just missed me by about an inch (which I may have noticed earlier had I not been trying send a text). Who knew that road was slanted?!? Anyway, since I'd unlocked the doors before I got out I was able to just open the door and pull the break. But that's so not the point! The point is that as stupid as this is, it was just the beginning of a long list of lame and uncoordinated things that I managed all weekend!

I had to run into a shoe store to exchange a pair and as I was pulling up I accidently pulled too close to the curb and ran up on it. I got out of the car and walked into the side view mirror of the truck parked next to me. Once I got in the store I tried on a pair of shoes and proceeded to fall off the shoes. How does one fall off shoes?? When I was filling out the paper for the exchange I dropped the pen, not once but twice.

Over the next two days I also managed the following bright moves: I went into my designers office during the day to talk to them and almost tipped the chair over because I was sitting in it backward. I almost dropped my lunch because I came around a corner too quickly and there was someone standing there. I had my dog in my car and had to hit the brakes because someone pulled in front of me and he just about flew into the front seat. I took him for a walk and he got distracted by another dog and turned his body so I tripped over him . . . three time! On my way into dinner with my roommate I was texting someone and came less than an inch from smashing my face into yet another side view mirror - but this one was on a big truck so it was a lot higher and would have hurt a lot more than the first one. The wind caught a paper that I sat on top of my car - even though it was under other stuff - and blew it half way down the street so I had to juggle everything I was carrying and drag my dog with me to go catch it. I dropped my phone in the middle of a conversation and managed to kick it when I bent to get it and now the screens all scratched. Sadly, the list doesn't end there but there are somethings that even I don't want to relive.

I couldn't figure out what was wrong with me and I came to a conclusion. I'm having an out patient surgery in a couple weeks and because of that I'm not allowed to take any pain killers other than Tylenol for the next two weeks so that means no Excedrin for the migrains or extra Sudafed for sinus pressure etc etc. So my conclusion is this . . . this is what I'm like when I'm not on drugs. And those are just the legal kind. Go figure.

The End of The World

The other I almost died. And I don't mean in the "that was so embarrassing I almost died" sort of way. I mean that I literally almost died in a life flashing before my eyes, apocalyptical, second coming kind of way.

So I was sound asleep and dreaming one of those crazy dreams that are wrought with symbolism that normally I'd pick apart for hours when in my more consciouses mindset. Then suddenly my bed started shaking so hard I thought for sure the Wasatch Fault and decided to let loose the wrath of God. I pictured myself standing outside in my pajama's in the rubble that was once my home, and the only thing that kept running through my mind was, "my homeowners insurance is going to skyrocket." With that I sat straight up ready to grab my dog and head for the nearest doorway when I realized that nothing else in the room was moving. . . and my dog was missing. Turns out that Chuck the Wonder Dog and moved from his usual sleeping spot to the foot of my bed where he was out of my eye line. At that point he was overcome with a case of the scratches and braced himself against my bed so as to get a better angle on the tougher spots. Who knew one dog could bring to pass such damage?

And while I didn't really almost die, I did learn some valuable lessons. 1) Always write your dreams down before you forget due to impending natural disaster, 2) Chuck and his 75 pounds of fun really needs to be locked in a kennel at night in order to prevent wandering.

Okay, while none of this really happen, it totally could have. Chuck really has braced himself against my bed to scratch making it shake like mad, but it makes for a pretty boring story. But honestly, isn't the mental picture of my in a panic with some crazy bed head hair totally worth the lies? Face it, there's always deceit in storytelling.

It's the date that would not end

Preface
By popular demand I've decided to post this story. While it happened about five years ago, it's well worth repeating. I was just going to copy my journal entry directly but I changed my mind once I started reading it and I've now filled in a much of the missing details that I didn't put in there originally. Now keep in mind that this is a VERY long story but if you enjoy laughing at the expense of others (in this case, mine), then it's probably well worth your time. Enjoy!

Chapter One: The Phone Call

Friday September 5, 2003

I have this friend from church, Tina*, and she and her husband, Gary, have had a friend staying with them this past week. His name is Rick. I met him at this pool party/barbecue thing at Lauren's house on Monday. I’m sure he’s nice enough but not really anyone that I would ever look even consider dating or for that matter ever even give a second glance to. Anyway, they swore that they wouldn’t try to do the hook-up, matchmaking crap that I hate so much. They both claimed they hated that stuff too but I guess they lied. Last night he called and asked me out. I guess he’s going out of town for a week but then he’ll be back on Thursday or Friday. What was I supposed to say? I’m very annoyed with them for this. Had Tina given me a warning and told me he had my number I could have been prepared with an excuse (or just not answered at all). I hate the idea of sympathy dating and that’s exactly what this will be. Dating sucks enough as it is – and now I’m required to go on a date I don’t want to be on just out of pity. Or maybe it’s a lack of self-confidence or self-assurance on my part because I didn’t have the courage to just tell him that I just wasn’t interested. But, I guess I’ll just look on the bright side – it’s free food.

Chapter Two: The Car

Sunday September 14, 2003

So Rick was suppose to be back into town yesterday but he called and said that his flight had been canceled and he wouldn’t be in until 10ish and he wants to get together after Church today. I really don’t want to go out with him on a Sunday but he just wouldn’t give it up and he kept going off about how he’d only be in town for a few days, blah blah blah. I know that I’m evil for doing this but Rick has a very . . . umm . . . prominent nose and we just can’t help making fun of it. Marion just keeps going on with the nose jokes but then she got on me about being nice and giving him a chance. She said that if I’d give a big black, drug dealing criminal with a “baby mama” a chance then I have to give the skinny white, clown nosed army boy a chance too. Sometimes I hate her logic. Why can’t dating be easier? Tina is so going to pay for this whole Rick thing.

I don’t think I’ve had a more miserable experience in my entire life. He’s a nice enough guy (if you can get past the I Should Be Committed vibe), but uumm . . . eww. When he came into the house to get me Jet (Marion's son) was talking to him and he noticed how hairy Rick’s arms were and pointed it out (gotta love toddlers). Rick proceeded to tell us a story about how when he was deployed once the kids there were so enthralled by how hairy he was and called him the gorilla or something like that. So wrong. It’s one thing to be hairy, it’s another thing all together to brag about it.

So I had my hair down and on the way out the door he tells me that I should get something to pull my hair back because he’s driving a convertible like it’s something so cool and I should be impressed. He was wrong. My first thought was, “Are you kidding? I don’t want people to see me in your car!” but it got even worse when I actually got outside. His "freakin' awesome convertible" was an early 90’s Geo Metro! And to make matters worse, it was bright banana yellow! Way to draw attention to yourself. If it weren't such a piece I would think it was a mid-life crisis car. So I get in the car and then he makes me wait for a minute so that he can get his hat out of the trunk because he didn’t want to get a sunburn on that big ol’ schnooze. He then proceeded to reach into the backseat to get a screwdriver to pop the trunk with!! While he was digging around in the trunk I looked around the car and found that the drivers side door handle was broken, forcing him to open the door from the outside, and the glove box was being held shut by duct tape. Trying to be the optimist, I figured he just wasn’t worldly. (feel free to giggle now) I could have cried when he got back into the car wearing some sort of army hat with a HUGE brim and a string that pulled up under his chin to keep it on. Some people just shouldn’t be allowed out in public on their own. Oh, so back to the nose. All I wanted to do all night was paint it red and see if it would honk. I’m evil, I know. And I’m okay with that.

Chapter Three: Hell On Earth

Rick decided that he wanted to take me miniature golfing. Are we in high school again?!? Not really a thrilling one-on-one activity in my opinion but I just kept thinking that at least he wasn’t trying to take me to a dark theater so he could “make his move”. I think I would have had to put my foot down on that one (wait for it . . . ). So on the way there I was making a mental list of all the things that I can do while golfing that would change his mind about ever wanting to go out with me again. There’s nothing like preventative action. Upon arrival at the golf course I promptly took my golf club and began doing a balancing act down the barrier of the first hole which quickly turned into a twirling routine (for those of you taking notes, golf clubs are not well balanced enough to use as a baton and will throw off your balance, especially when walking down a cement barrier that is only three inches wide). When that didn’t bug him I began humming a circus like tune. No reaction. Dang.

Somewhere between the first and the sixth hole he started talking like we were in the beginning of a whirlwind relationship with the next likely step being Elvis walking me down the aisle in the Chapel of Love in Vegas. Seriously, he really asked me how much I owe in student loans because he wanted to know what he was getting in for! Are you kidding me?!? Normally I would have just told him that it wasn’t any of his business and I wasn’t going to discuss money with him but instead I saw it as an opportunity to add to the list of reasons why he shouldn’t want to date me and gave him a number with an extra $25,000 tacked onto the total! And he just said, “good to know,” and went on like I had told him my total was just $25. I don’t remember what I said next but I know that I was down by the hole and he was up at the beginning and he shouted (and I mean SHOUTED) across the course, “Are you trying to make me fall in love with you?” How does one even being to answer a question like that when the answer is a resounding, “Hell no!”? People all over the course were staring at me, waiting for my answer with baited breath. I couldn’t think of anything to say and I’m afraid that what I said may have just egged him on even more. “It’s no fun if you have to try,” is what slipped from my lips and then I looked down at my ball and let my hair fall in front of my face so he couldn’t see the look of disbelief and ‘holy crap’ that seemed to have taken up permanent residence there.

Oh, but wait, it gets better! He kept referring to all of the women that he could bring home to meet his mom and what kind of women he thought she would like. Seriously, all he was doing was giving me more material for things to do that he wouldn’t/shouldn’t like. He also asked me if I’d consider going to the Temple to take out my endowments without going on a mission or getting married. I was trying everything I could think of to get him off my back so I said that I had thought about it but then I changed my mind because that would mean that Id have to buy a whole new wardrobe and I just wasn't ready to give up my miniskirts. He just nodded and said that that was totally understandable. What does a girl have to do get a date to take her home? Fake an aneurysm?

Around the 15th hole (yes, there were 16 holes on this course – I was starting to wonder if he’d tricked me somehow and we’d started the course over again without my noticing) he started talking about how hungry he was and that he’d seen this grill he wanted to try out, which of course means that he intended on taking me to dinner. I began to weep on the inside at that point. So as we’re being seated in the restaurant our waiter asked us if we were from the area and Rick had decided to take the reins when it came to talking to the "staff" and everytime I tried to say something he cut me off and answered for me. He informed the waiter that he was from California and that I was from Utah and somehow he slipped it in there that we were LDS. Is he crazy? You don’t go advertising that you’re LDS when you’re out at a restaurant on a Sunday. Has no one ever taught him the concept of keeping the Sabbath holy? (wait for it, it gets better) He then proceeded to ask the waiter if they served non-alcoholic beer. They don't serve that kind of stuff in North Carolina! Everyone just drinks regular beer. Actually, do they serve that stuff anywhere?? I saw the look on the waiters face when he answered him and then he turned to take my drink order and looked more confused than anything because he could tell I was trying really hard not to laugh. I think the dinner conversation was probably the most horrific detail of the entire night. He was telling me stories of his mission and how both he and his brother were sent home early because their mission presidents ‘didn’t like them’ or were ‘intimidated by them’. Did he think I was an idiot? Seriously, that doesn’t happen unless you’re both preaching the same out there kinda concepts that don’t follow church doctrine or if you’ve both got authority issues. I’m thinking it was the former. I don't think I've ever scarfed down a meal so quickly in my life. I figured the benefits outweighed the consequences because he'd probably think I was a slob and a pig but in the end I think he assumed I just had a hardy appetite. But I had to do what I could to get out of there before he humiliated me in front of any other members of the staff.

Chapter Four: Homeward Bound

On the way out he started talking about this new movie that he wanted to go see (while he subtly pulled the breath spray out of his pocket). It was at that point that I realized that this was the date from hell and it was never going to end if I didn’t put a stop to it right then and there. At that very moment I knew without a doubt why God had made me the go-to-girl when Lauren broke her foot and needed help with her paper-route at 3am every morning for the last six weeks! It was so I’d have an excuse to get out of this awful date! I told him that it was just getting too late and I had to get home so that I’d be able to get up in the morning. After minimal begging he resigned to the fact that he wasn’t going to be able to try out his new yawn move in the theater and we headed back to my house. And that’s when my praying began. “Please, please, if there is a God, please let Brady be home and be sitting in the living room when we get there. Please. Seriously, please?” Apparently all of the begging worked but I was still prepared with my keys in my hand just in case he wasn’t visible through the window (and when I say “keys in my hand” I don’t mean to unlock the door, I mean sticking out between my fingers like the teach you in self-defense classes so I could gouge his eyes out if he tried to clean my tonsils with his tongue). I was out of that car and in the front room before he even had the engine shut off – but that can take a while when you have to do that with a screwdriver too (okay, so I made that last part up but the rest of the story is entirely true). Brady looked a little shell shocked when I came plowing through the door so hard I almost put a hole in the wall but when he saw who was following me he quickly understood. He looked almost constipated because was fighting so hard to keep in the laughter. (Thanks for you help, Brady. Appreciate it.) So after a little army chitchat between the boys I was finally able to get him out the door and deadbolt it behind him. Then I quickly shut all the blinds and turned off all the lights so if he came back I could pretend we weren’t home and then fell down laughing so hard I thought I was going to pass out. At the very least I can say that I don’t think things could ever get much worse.

Chapter Five: I Was Wrong

Monday September 15, 2003

Things didn’t get a lot worse, but they certainly didn’t end with Rick strutting out of my front door like he’d just won a blue ribbon at the fair. He freakin’ called me at 8:30 this morning! I run someone else’s stupid paper route at 3am every day so that she can support her family which gets me home around 6 so that I can sleep for another three hours before having to get up to go to my own job and he calls me to tell me that he’d had a “lovely” time last night. Some men are totally clueless. Then, begging for reaffirmation, he has the nerve to say, “I hope the feeling’s mutual.” I was so far beyond being pissed. He called me from Tina’s land line instead of his cell phone so I didn’t know it was him which only served to tick me off more because otherwise, you can guarantee I wouldn’t have answered. I was so dang close to not even saying hello and just ripping into who I thought was going to be Tina for giving him my number but then I thought better of it because I figured it was probably Gary that had given it to him and not her. Good thing I thought that one through first because that could have ended badly for Tina. He actually asked me out again too! He wants to get together again before he heads back to California but he's going to be out of town for the next couple days so he's thinking later in the week. I think I might just have a previously undiagnosed fatal illness. . . actually, I’m sure of it. Or maybe I've been exposed to some highly contageous disease that causes infertility in men and he'll have to avoid me. (Does something like that exist? I'll have to look it up later for future reference.) He obviously has issues and if I just tell him that I’m not interested he might just break into the house and try to boil my bunny or something. I’ve just got to get through the next week until he goes back to California and then I can change my phone number like I should have done the first time he called, you know, before he knew where I lived.

Epilogue

So you may have noticed the attached photo of the toddler sized teddy bear that goes along with this blog. Now while it would have made for a perfect ending if he'd given that to me on our tour of the underworld, that is not where it came from. A couple years ago I was attending a ward Valentines Day activity and they played a game of sorts and had everyone go around and tell their worst dating stories. Everyone was filled with angst and heartbreak about how their date left the dance with someone else, yada yada yada. While it took me a good ten minutes to tell this story (and I even left a lot of the details out) I still won the contest with an overwhelming vote and thus came home with the teddy bear. At least I got something out of it, right?


*names have been changed to protect the innocent, but not the names of those that you could guess anyway.

The Singles Ward, part 1

Is it possible to start my blog with a digital eye roll? Well, either way - imagine you just saw it because you're going to be rolling your own in a minute or two (depending on how fast you can read, of course). So I'm one of the oldest members of my current LDS singles ward and with that I like to think comes a certain level of maturity and an unalienable right to mock those around me. Okay, so maybe not but it's about the only thing that gets me through three hours of church with the youngins. Well, that and I'm just not a very nice person, at least not in my head. I would never say most of these things out loud or actually to the offending person - but obviously there's nothing stopping me from writing about them. So much for the nice side, huh? My bad.

So just a couple weeks ago I was sitting in Sacrament Meeting and as usual I was paying more attention to the people around me than I was to who was speaking or what they were speaking about. I think I'm a speakers worst nightmare (I'm worse than a 3-year-old, turning around in my seat, laughing out loud, the occasional paper airplane). So near the back of the chapel I notice a girl who has her hair all done up and fancy like and my first thought is, "How long did it take her to do that and why on earth would you do it for church?" And then I saw it . . . the gleam of jewels coming from her coifed do. She was wearing a tiara. I had to do a double and triple take. On my third glance I noticed that not only was she wearing the tiara she also had on a cape - not like a super hero cape (in this instance I think that would have been less of an attention grabber considering the average age of my singles ward) but like a fancy-schmancy 'going to the opera' type cape. My jaw dropped and I turned to my roommate to see if she too had noticed the fashion faux pau. By the shocked look on her face I was sure I wasn't imaging things. I did my best to forget about the pre-spell Sleeping Beauty in the back and listen to the speaker . . . but I have no idea what they talked about so I obviously didn't do a very good job.

As soon as the meeting was over I made a beeline for the door as I always do. The reasons for this are four fold, 1) to avoid talking to people who giggle, 2) to avoid the bishopric and their need to give everyone a calling, 3) to get the best seat in the back of Sunday School where you're just out of the eye line of the teacher, and 4) prime seats for watching the dating drama of the socially challenged. The distractions began about five minutes after the opening prayer. There was some sort of an altercation going on in the back of the room! Everyone turned to see what kind of small animal was being tortured . . . and then she popped through the doorway like a cork in a bottle. The princess had removed her cape for class but with that released the true expanse of her dress. The pre-discussed offender was wearing a prom dress. Now I've seen this kind of thing happen before. In every family ward across the nation, it is customary for the girls to wear their prom dresses and the guys to wear their tuxedos to church the Sunday after the prom. And if this girl just went to prom last week then she shouldn't be attending a singles ward. Anyway, after she forced her way through the door she swished up the aisle causing even more of a ruckus as she knocked peoples scriptures out of their hands and toppled chairs. She found her usual seat in the second row (gotta be close to the front where everyone can admire her fashion sense) and spread out her gown - taking up not two, but three chairs. Including the one on her left that was currently being occupied by someone else. I think that the best part of my story isn't that she wore the dress, but that she did it again, with a different prom dress, the next week. I guess she's taking the "prom season" to heart.

And with that . . . I'm transferring my records to a new singles ward next week. I'm sure there will be more to come from there in the near future. Wish me luck.