The Post in which I Complain About Being Sick

I have a cold.

Not just any cold.  This cold has pretty much left me incapacitated for the week.  I think I’ve been to… one class.  All week.  And I fell asleep in it.  I’ve worked a grand total of five hours.  I’ve been drinking orange juice, slurping soup, popping pills, and I still feel disgusting.  Just in case you still don’t have an idea, let me describe it to you:

I’m pretty sure Satan with all his hellfire and brimstone is in my sinuses,

My face feels like its covered in the thickest, itchiest wool ever made,

And if the whole of the Black Death plague could be confined to one area of the body, I’m pretty sure that’s an accurate description of how my stomach feels.

And I’m soooo tired.

Too tired to watch a movie, but in too much pain to fall asleep.  I thought I might write in my journal, but then I realized any memory I could possibly try to pen right now would end up jaded by my current circumstances.

So I thought I’d write this little story about my sickness—a story in which I am entitled to sound a little pessimistic, and I’m succeeding at it, by the way.

I’m so sick and so tired.  And I’m so sick and tired of being sick and tired.  I’m bored stiff, and I don’t ever get bored!  I’m so bored, in fact, that I texted random people in my phone asking them to send an assassin to my apartment to put me out of my misery.

I thought it would brighten my day.  Until I realized that all the people I texted are out living lives, enjoying the cloudy, Fall day, and actually accomplishing things.

I hope that assassin comes...

I Know That Was You

Once upon a time, I was driving down a backroad on my way home from the store.

I was in mozie-mode.  Chill.  Slow.  No rush.

And it's a good thing, too.  Or else I wouldn't have been prepared for what happened next.


A chicken crossed the road.


True story.  This happens.

I stopped, and the car in the other lane stopped as we watched the chicken sprint from one side to the other in front of us.

In that moment, I was hit by the hilarious irony of it all.  I looked at the other driver who had not missed the irony of the moment, and we shared a driver-to-driver moment of cracking up together.

And then we both continued on our merry way.

And I realize it's kinda goofy, but I remember thinking, "Wow.  Heavenly Father knew that would make my day."

And He did.  Because He's hilarious.  And He cracks me up all the time.

And that when this happens:

Tall Tales VI: A Funny {Desperate} Story

For those of you who can't read that one, it says:

"All the shoes in the size 12+ section look like they've been 

taken from the lost and found at the senior's home."

True story.

There are a few things wrong with this saying and its applicability to me:

• I do not, nor have I ever needed to wear 12+
• I wear a women's 10-11
• This problem is not anywhere near as bad as it used to be

I remember going shoe shopping between the ages of 9 and 13.  My expectations were like this:

Ooo! Fun! Pretty! Happy shoes that I would love to wear!  How exciting!

After all, that's how the sections where my mom and sisters shopped looked.  Surely I would be able to find some of the same, cute shoes, right?!  We were in the same store!

When I would go to my section of the store, however, the sad reality was much more like this:

Hmmm... my only options are ages 50+.  Yay.

I mean, what the heck?!  Are the only people needing those sizes ninety-four with osteoporosis and rheumatoid arthritis??  And even if they were, what makes you think they want to wear shoes that look like that??? Comfy and cute, people.  It's possible, I promise.  But I digress...

As I've grown older, shoes my size have—happily—become more stylish.  Now my section at the shoe store looks more like the first picture.  (It is a little disappointing that most cute shoes are still discontinued at size 10, though.  I, personally, think a size larger wouldn't make them any less adorable.  Just sayin'.)

Okay, one more tale of shoe-related woes, and then I'm finished.  I promise.

Back when I was 17, I competed in the regional Jr. Miss competition.  At this point in time, cute shoes DID exist in my size.  I didn't have too much to complain about in that area.  However, that competition uncovered the shoe market's weak link, and it almost turned out to be disastrous.

Jr. Miss required all the contestants to participate in a Self Expression/Poise segment of the competition.  For this, we had to wear a pretty, formal dress, walk around the stage, and answer an on-stage question. This all had to be done in formal shoes.  You know the type.  Heeled, strappy, usually sparkly and silver, the works.

At that point in time, and I think even now, the shoe market discouraged women of my stature to dress formally.  No one sold any formal shoes in those sizes.  Apparently, none of us were ever asked to prom.  Or got married.  I guess our feet were just not allowed to be as beautifully shod as our diminutively footed peers.  Or maybe we all just liked to do everything barefoot.  It happens.

Mom and I could not find formal shoes anywhere.  We got so desperate, Mom shopped online cross-dresser stores while I was at school. YIKES!  (Please remember to clear to cookie cache!)  Needless to say, we didn't find what we were looking for there...

It wasn't until Mom discovered this part of Zappos.com that we could finally breathe freely.

That was close.  And traumatic.  And so happily resolved.

Granted, you can't see my shoes, but this was at Jr. Miss.  Which means I didn't get kicked out for lack of stated footwear. :)

This. ...happens.

Ahhh, yes.

That moment when a former beau asks you why in the world you're not married yet.

...because no unmarried woman at BYU has ever heard that one before.

Thanks, dear.

You're a sweetheart to remind me.

Haha :)  Sometimes, I crack myself up.

Tall Tales V: Tall Like a Tree :)

Case in point: My high school soccer team

Early in the season, the summer sun is so hot.

No trees + not being allowed to jump in the canal + running for two hours = a team of very, very, very warm girls.

I figured there would be no place to hide from the relentless sun when we were called over to our coaches, but my girls weren't as quick to surrender.  As we all stood listening, I could see out of the corner of my eye that every time I shifted my weight, so did the line of girls next to me.  They were using me to hide from the sun.  I had no shade, but they found some---it was created by me!  This was also the case whenever it was extraordinarily windy.

The best example, however, took place during morning practices.  Early in the morning, our practice fields were still dewy wet.  Whenever we stopped running, we all became very aware of the hoard of gnats that would hover around us.  They were itchy and annoying, and we quickly figured out that they swarmed around the highest available appendage.  In the beginning, we would all sit on the field to talk with our hands raised above our heads.  By the end of the season, everyone just stood as close around me as possible so they no longer had to raise their hands at all.  All the gnats just swarmed around mine.

It kinda made me the unofficial team mother.  Anytime anyone was uncomfortable, the girls would come flock around me.  'Twas rather nice.  For all of us.

If ever I could...

I'm on a Disney kick, and today at work I was listening to this song...

And I thought about some of the things I want to do and see in this world.

And I realized that some of them are a little ridiculous and will probably never happen.

Still...

I want to ride and elephant and a camel.

I want to stand in the middle of the Sahara where there is only sand as far as I can see.  I want to make a sand-angel and find an oasis.

I want to hike in a rainforest and stand on the edge of a (somewhat active) volcano.

I want to hike and raft through fjords and canyons.

I want to longboard on the Great Wall of China and be pulled on a sled in Antarctica.

I want to learn how to cook in a pit and make delicacies from many different countries.

I want to climb a mango tree and learn to throw a boomerang.

I want to go to an Olympic beach volleyball game or any part of the Olympics or Paralympics for that matter.

I want to pet a whale and feed a giraffe.

I want to ride a yak in the Himalayas.

I want to be scuba certified and go cave diving.

I want to kiss the Blarney Stone.

I want to learn to sing with tribes in Africa.

I want to learn languages and have friends in many countries.

And if I never have the chance to do any of those things, I'll be just fine.

But if I do have the chance, you know I'll be all over that.

This day :)

So I really like this thing called "today."
It's pretty much the best thing that ever happened to me.

Aaaand I am SO grateful for:

9 hours of sleep - yes!

rain - so lovely!

naturally curly hair - no hassel on a rainy day

sunshine (sun after rain = awesome)

Women’s Chorus - need I say more?

This blogpost - hilarious.

Sharon's jokes - SO freakin' hilarious

Eric making me pizza - he rocks.
This video Marie sent me - also hilarious

group members who actually do their projects - yes!

siblings who let me use their appliances no-charge - so great!
siblings who also make me smoothies and rock to Pink Floyd while I do my laundry - even greater!

General Conference is coming - And I'm singing in the Saturday afternoon session!
I was given two tickets to the afore-mentioned session of General Conference.

and

dancing to Michael Jackson in the kitchen

Life is so good.