Thursday, April 28, 2011

Say What?

My brain works randomly.  Recently I had this random thought about all the phrases that people use that make me want to roll my eyes.  People in general make me want to roll my a lot but this specific phrases elicit a sigh along with the eye roll.

Church phrases:
1. "In an attitude of prayer"
Meaning, don't actually pray, just pretend.  Stand there with your head bowed and your eyes closed and keep listening to the preacher, but don't really pray.  That probably isn't what the pastor or whomever means but it is definitely how it sounds in my head.

2.  "A hedge of protection"
This is one of those little phrases that people use all the time in prayers without really thinking.  I don't have the link but I will try to find it, but Tim Hawkins does a Wonderful bit about this.  It's on youtube if you look up Hedge of Protection Tim Hawkins.  He's absolutely right though.  I want a crazy big wall or maybe a bomb shelter if we are talking protection.  Hedges just don't do it.  I've seen lots of movies where guys jump over hedges on horseback.  What if the Devil had a horse?  What then?  Think about it.

Found the link:

Did ya really mean that phrases
1.  "It's always in the last place you look"
No kidding, Sherlock!  If I find my keys, I don't keep looking just for the fun of it!  By default whatever you find is in the last place you looked.  Major eye roll going on.

2.  "I Jerry rigged it"
Unless your name is Jerry, you didn't jerry rig it, you Jury rigged it.  As in a rigged jury.  I know a man named Jerry who rigs things a lot and quite well but otherwise you are referring to a courtroom occurrence where the jury is rigged in selection to favor one side.

3.  "He can't fight his way out of a wet paper bag"
I've heard a phrase like this about finding your way out of a paper bag, but fighting your way out of it?  Are there enormous brown paper bags where fisticuffs happen regularly?  Why is this a common phrase?

4.  Emigrant/immigrant
This isn't a phrase but it is STUPID!  An emigrant is someone who comes to a new country; an immigrant leaves a country.  Long pause.  If you leave a country don't you pretty much Have to go to a new one?  The only way having this distinction should work would be if someone left a country and stayed in international waters (immigrant) or was conceived and born at sea and then came to a new country (emigrant).  I honestly believe someone in power misspelled this word many years ago and no one had the guts to correct them.  Now we have stupid definitions for the same word.  I actually got in an argument with a teacher over this once.  I don't get on well with English teachers for some reason.  I was right this time though, this is just dumb.  The take home lesson here is don't let powerful people make stupid mistakes because you are too afraid to speak up.

1.  "She's hot for you"
This kills me.  People say this without really knowing or thinking about what they say.  A woman's basal body temperature goes up during ovulation, she is literally hot.  So they are really say "she is ovulating and wants to conceive your child".  That's not sexy.  Not even to a biologist.  I really just want a woman to respond to "Baby you look hot tonight" with "Well I am not in fact ovulating but thank you for your concern for my reproductive health."

2.  "I'd like to tap that"
This is just insulting.  Women are Not kegs!  I'm not much for poetry but how have we moved from "Shall I compare thee to a summer's day" to "Baby, your @$$ is stouter than a Guiness".  Seriously?  I'd prefer the former.  Yes comparing a woman to a keg is so incredibly "hot"...eye roll...not.  Get a dictionary and try again.

I hope these made you smile.  It's almost the weekend and this week is dragging on, so I thought everyone might need a little light thought!

BTW: to the people in Canada and France who are reading my blog, you guys are awesome!  I think it is just beyond cool that you stumbled across my blog written in little Tennessee!

Tuesday, April 26, 2011

What Do You Want To Be....

when you grow up?  Do you remember that question?  I think as a child I was asked that no less than three times a day and usually in that annoying voice that adults use with kids.  There is the cute baby voice and there is the you-are-a-total-imbecile-child voice.  The former is cute, the latter made me want to hit adults.  I actually had a guy use the imbecile child voice on me the other day; I had to take lots of calming breaths to refrain from telling him where he could put that tone.  I digress.

I'm 22.  I'm not collecting social security yet but I am contributing to the pot.  Why do I still not know what I want to be?  Apparently I wasn't asked enough as a child!  The reason this has really come to the forefront of my mind is that Josh has been accepted to pharmacy school (He's so smart.  And handsome.  I'm sure the handsomeness helped him get in).  I'm proud of him, its a Huge deal to get in!  However (could you see the "but" coming?), we have been working through a difference of opinion about whether or not he should go. I see a lot of problems, thirteen to be exact.  I won't bother to list them here, it's a lot of typing.  Basically we have talked this decision to death and are finally getting closer to a conclusion (we hope, think, pray).  Last night we sat down with a spreadsheet I had painstakingly made out with all sorts of the money considerations on it.

We've arrived at the point.  Are you relieved?  I really planned on making a point.  Josh and I had always planned on me staying home to take care of any children that might one day come along.  That sounds really great to me.  My mom was a stay at home mom for most of my life and it worked really great.  If I stayed home with future babies then it prudent for Josh to go to pharmacy school.  If I didn't stay home then the situation flip flops and it is prudent for him to not go.  Now I feel conflicted.  I want Josh to do whatever he thinks is best and whatever God leads him to do, but after he's decided and chips fall where they may, what would I like to do? 

Barbie and Mom always told me I could be anything I wanted (I have a Barbie soapbox I'll get to soon, eye roll).  My first job is to support Josh til he makes his decision but after that I still don't know what I want to be in life.  I work now and it's nice to be financially contributing and busy, but I've never tried it the other way.  I had been planning on going back to school before Josh got his acceptance but now I'm wondering if I should bother.  There isn't much sense in having a Master's or Doctorate to change diapers.  So in my mind I settle on the fact that one day I will be a stay at home mom.  Then my mind rebels (it has that really bad tendency).  What if I feel stuck?  What if I want to leave my house?  Why did I spend years in college to get a degree I'm not going to use?  I still get excited when I BLAST DNA sequences; it's awesome and fun.  Am I ready to give that exciting part of work up?  I have the ideal lifestyle there in my mind but I don't know if it's practical.  I think if I were choosing, I would be a professor.  I LOVED student teaching at UGA, it was the coolest job I've ever had.  I don't know though, I don't guess there is really a point in any more schooling if it's unnecessary.  That is assuming that the job of Toys 'R' Us kid is taken, cause really that would be the best-est job ever!

Do you know what you want to be when you grow up?  If you are a little ahead of me in this whole game of life, how did you choose between staying home and remaining in the workforce?  Growing up isn't nearly as fun as other people made it look!

Thursday, April 21, 2011

Things That Make Me Happy

Things have been rough at my apartment lately.  (Have you noticed that "apartment" doesn't flow as well as "house" in sentences?  People ask me all the time where my house is and then I have to explain that I don't really have a house just an apartment.  Random thought of the day...let's be honest...random thought of the hour.)  Back on topic.  I have been having killer headaches.  My depression meds are voided by other meds I'm on.  I'm just glum.  I have no reason to be.  Life around me is great!  I have the most loving, caring, wonderful husband on God's green earth.  I have a job that I like 4 days out of 5.  I have a great family; a super awesome mom who I am becoming just like, a dad with excellent advice, and a brother who still thinks his sister is cool enough to text!  Depression doesn't ask if you are at a good point in your life to cry all the time, it doesn't check the situation before it invites itself in, it just plops down at the table and feeds on your joy.  I'm tired of being sick with headaches and I'm sick of being tired from depression.  In honor of my sick and tiredness today I am listing the top ten little things in life that make my soul happy.  That deep down "I've got the joy, joy, joy, joy down in my heart.  Where?"...(continues singing in head, I won't subject you to it, it's off key). 

In no order, I now present...

My Happy Little List :
1.  Bookstores.  I love 'em.  Can't get enough.  I can spend hours.  Sometimes I just walk and down the aisles just touching the binding on the books.  I love the smell.  Knowledge and paper and coffee all rolled into one nose filling scent.

2.  Chocolate.  Dark chocolate, milk chocolate, Easter bunnies, truffles, with peanuts, with chili pepper seasoning.  Any way I can get it (except white, yuck!). 

3.  Musicals on dvd.  I just bought Les Mis the 25th anniversary live concert edition.  I could watch it on repeat.  I turn up the volume and sing with everything I have inside me.  I laugh, I cry, it's magical.  I love ANY musical there is no wrong in musicals.

4.  Josh kissing the back of my neck while I cook.  Something about that just says home and comfort.  It's great.

5.  Dresses with tulle skirts.  Even though the tulle scratches your legs those are by far the cutest dresses.  They stand out just the right amount and make you want to twirl.  Add a pair of pretty white sandals and you are ready for a night out, substitute flip flops and you are casual enough for the beach.

6.  One specific park in Knoxville.  I Love this park.  It has a five mile walking trail lined with beautiful flowering trees.  It's right next to river and has Gorgeous houses on the other side.  I like to put in music and pray and walk and walk and walk and imagine I live in one of those dream houses.

7.  Hot chocolate and egg sandwiches on Sunday nights in the winter.  Dad doesn't cook to speak of but he will make this and it is sooooo good and we sit and talk as a family while we scald our tongues to such a degree we can't taste the sandwiches.  It's a good time.

8.  Having my hands rubbed.  Mom or Josh will sometimes rub my hands if I am having a panic attack or stressing and it is so calming.  It's just relaxing and since I use my hands all day long it is great on those tired muscles.  In all of about two minutes I start to drift off.

9.  The feeling on Saturday morning when you roll over and see the clock says 6:07 but you don't have to get up.  You pull the covers up to your chin turn over and go back to sleep til 8:30.

10.  Clearing up the kitchen while Josh starts to study in the living room.  I know I'm supposed to be all "I am woman, hear me roar.  I'm going to take the business world by storm. Yada yada yada."  I'm just not though.  There is no more fulfilling a feeling to me then knowing that my husband's tummy is full and that the laundry is the wash and that the kitchen is getting cleaner.  Success at work doesn't give me anywhere close to that peaceful, complete feeling.  I like being a wife and it's my number one priority.  It's what I feel best doing.  Especially if after starting the dishwasher I get to go watch a musical!

Tell me your "happies".  What makes your soul feel warm?

Monday, April 18, 2011

Frito Pie

I found a recipe for Frito Pie that sounded good, except for that ingredient and this other one and I didn't want to cook it the way they suggested.  When all was said and done I had totally changed up the recipe and it is oh so yummy.  Even Josh thinks so and he is picky.  Here it is.  Make it, eat it, love it.

Brown ground beef in a skillet (or cook chicken, both are good, neither is wrong).

Make rice.  I use Mexican rice of any brand.  Let it sit and simmer during the next step.

Add half an onion and a generous hit of onion powder, 2 tablespoons of olive oil, 2.5 teaspoons of garlic salt, 3 tablespoons of chili powder (maybe more, I usually spill it so it tends to be more), 3-4 teaspoons cumin.  Stir.  Add a little water (~1/4 cup).  Stir again.

Put a layer of Fritos in the bottom of casserole dish.  Next layer on the meat.  Add a generous layer of cheese.  Put on two cans of diced Mexican tomatoes (I like Rotel tomatoes in lime and cilantro).  Add a second layer of Fritos.  Put on rice.  Top off with a final layer of cheese.

Stick the whole casserole in the oven until the cheese gets bubbly.  It takes about 10 minutes at 350F.

Sunday, April 17, 2011

My Pretty Easter Dress and My Sexy Husband

The title pretty much says it all.  (I know it isn't Easter but I went to my old church today and will go to my new church next week so I am maximizing the dress exposure [which with an unexpected puff of wind  nearly exposed all of me]).

Saturday, April 16, 2011

Wal-Mart: Bane of My Existence

I hate Wal-Mart.  I really do.  I hate it more and more as I get older.  Do you know what I love about blogging?  I get to tell everyone the reasons I hate Wal-Mart (among other things)!

-There is never anywhere to park.  You have to park in the back 40 every single time you go.

-People stroll through the aisles.  Do they not have anything better to do???  Why are they standing in the very middle of the aisle just staring?  I come to Wal-Mart with a list, with a purpose.  You better get out of my way!  I will flat out run you over with my buggy and I don't even really feel badly about it.  If you are standing in the way chit chatting with your second cousin's neighbor's dog sitter, you deserve to be run over by my cart.  Okay maybe you don't deserve it, but I am still going to give you a nasty look.

-There are too many options.  I'm not a good decision maker, I'll admit it.  I really don't need an 25 different kinds of ketchup and 30 kinds of spaghetti sauce.  It makes me wish briefly that I lived in a Communist country where decisions are made by the government.  It really is insane.  I'd rather they had more variety of fruit and veggies than one more brand of white bread.

Deep calming breaths.  In…out…in…out.  I have seriously developed a phobia of going to Wal-Mart.  The crowds freak me out, I accidentally told a woman she was slow and had a mullet today (oops), the checkout lines make me so impatient and frustrated that I want to scream, etc. etc. etc.  Thankfully I have only gone to Wal-Mart three times since I got married, so once a month I think I can do it. 

By the way, if you are bored and killing time you should go to .  Just hundreds of reasons to avoid Wal-Mart.  Besides a new report just came out that says Target has less expensive stuff anyway and it doesn’t freak me out as much!

Tuesday, April 12, 2011

Congratulations on Your Rolly Chair

Do you know what bothers me, like really sets me off for no particular reason?  Doctors' rolling chairs.  It's a soapbox issue.

Here's the scenario:  You go to the doctor, you're either sick, need a medicine recheck, or a check up.  You have to make the appointment three weeks in advance because every doctor is booked up at least that long.  You finally get to your appointment and you wait...and wait...and wait.  My doctor does the two waiting rooms thing.  You start in one and then move to the inner one.  Once you get to the inside one you feel like you have achieved the inner sanctum.  It Might one day Possibly be your turn!!  Then you go to the room.  Can you guess what you do once you're there?  Yep.  You WAIT.  Bring a book, heck write a book during this wait!

You are paying this doctor a substanial amount of money, whether it is out of pocket or through insurance premiums.  You have some valid reason for being at the doctor's office.  The doctor, you know in advance, is going to be in the room about 15 minutes.  Find a bill, figure up what you are paying per minute of this man/woman's time.

So now that I have sat in the waiting room contemplating all the time wasted in the waiting room and the money being wasted as I sit in this uncomfortable vinyl chair; I am in a perfectly wonderful disposition.  Then comes The Chair.  Why do they have the rolly chair?  The doctor is in there for approximately 15 minutes.  Okay, his/her feet hurt, I could see that, Use a Normal Chair!!!  To me the rolly chair is a power play and I don't like power plays.  Think about it.  This doctor has you sitting in your underwear, wasting valuable time and then they come in to a 10x12 room and start wheeling around like it's the Teacups at Disney World.  I understand they have a diploma.  That's why I'm there!  I'm paying them!  Why are they doing the power struggle thing?  They feel more powerful in a chair with wheels?  "I am the doctor let me zip around here and do...NOTHING" because the doctor can't actually examine you from the stool, they have to get up!  It's like they need the chair for respect.  Isn't the white coat supposed to do that????

So, as I said, the chair thing really bothers me.  To make myself feel better when I come in to the examining room, I sit in the rolly chair.  Then I stare so hard that I dare them to make me get up.  Try it sometime.  It totally throws them.  Some doctors are really kind and will take the sticky vinyl chair across from you and talk to you as you are both human beings, both deserving of a conversation and a certain amount of respect.  (BTW, why are the chairs always sticky?  Do you picture all the various and sundry bodily fluids from hundreds of people that could be on those chairs?  You will now.  Wash your hands.  Wash your jeans.  Wash your butt.)  I continue to go to respectful doctors and I don't have to sit in his/her rolly chair again usually.  Bad doctors take "the tone" and tell you to get up.  Usually a snarky remark comes to mind and, depending on my temperature, promptly exits my mouth.  Those doctors I try to either avoid or make as uncomfortable as possible.  I know, I know, it isn't nice but I'm sick (in more ways than one apparently) and I don't feel like making their life easier at that moment.

I don't understand how they have arrived at the rolly chair power struggle.  They don't hand these out at graduation from med school, yet every doctor has a rolly chair and most have the rolly chair complex.  I have a rolly chair in my office.  It has a nice back and adjustable arms. I have a rolly stool too, but when I go to meetings with vendors or my boss or coworkers I don't take my chair to make me feel powerful, I sit in whatever is available.  I wonder if when the doctors are fighting with their spouse, if they pull out an office chair and say "See, I have the chair, I'm right."  Pulling out the rolly chair is like saying "You can't defeat me. I have the high ground" in Star Wars.  It seems silly, other dude still has a light saber and you could fall from that high ground.  Are you following my simile, it diverged into geekdom for a moment?

Sigh.  I feel a little better now after confessing my long held chair feelings.  Just in case you are thinking to yourself that you would suggest a trip to the doctor for some stronger medication, know that I am not alone in the chair power struggle though process, I learned it from my Daddy.  :)

EDIT:  I might have just figured it out!  Maybe the chair is used in compensation.  Follow me here.  Some men buy great big bikes and really fast cars to compensate for "other areas" in their life. Maybe these rolly chair complex stricken doctors are using their chair to compensate for their lack of medical knowledge or confidence.  So, the ones who let you sit in their chair aren't threatened but rather, feel they know enough about medicine to treat you from the bodily fluid vinyl chair.  The other doctors...well...draw your own conclusions.

Saturday, April 9, 2011

I'll Grind Your Bones to Make My Bread

I decided I wanted to make homemade bread.  Hahahahahaha  It sounded so simple in my wasn't.  I emailed a woman from my church asking for her recipe but saying that I didn't want to grind my own wheat because really who does that anymore?  She responded that grinding your own wheat makes all the difference.  She is a wise woman so I bought wheat buds.  I put the wheat buds in my chopper and learned two things.  1:  My chopper is a piece of crap.  No wonder it was $5 the day after Thanksgiving.  2:  Even when chopped in excess of five minutes the wheat buds remain completely intact.  They don't become wheat flour at all.  Plan B.

I took the wheat buds home (this is really like Plan D because I tried to crush them with a rolling pin and dried heating them before chopping them) in hopes of this woman grinding them from me.  Mom decided it would be easier to get a grinder of my own.  Yeah right.  She obviously wasn't the one about to grind.

Yesterday the grinder arrived and while Josh was getting ready for work I started setting it up.  He stepped in when I started dropping stainless steel pieces on the tile.  It was loud.  It was especially loud at 7:15 on Saturday.  I was glad he did because all the instructions were in Spanish.  Q'est que?  Parlez vous Anglais?  Parlez vous Francais?  I didn't take Spanish.  Here the fun really got going.
Here is the monstrosity.  It is attached to the grill but it wouldn't work there because the plastic was too weak to support the force required to turn the handle.  I had to attach it to the back steps.  In the removing and reattaching elsewhere process, I see blood.  The stupid thing had sliced two of my fingers open!  Poor fingers!

The grinder is crazy loud and it's about 7:30.  Suffice it to say that my neighbors really love me now.  Yeah.  Not so much.  I thought "no big deal, you put in the wheat, you grind, you get flour".  Pssssh!  The grinding process takes muscles in weird areas, like calf muscles.  I ground forever and two days, okay maybe not literally but it felt that long.  The sun wasn't even up and I was already sweating like Seabiscuit.  This is a workout!  Notice there is no picture of that.  I was afraid when I saw myself in the mirror, you don't need that horror added to your life.  You should thank me. Even after all the grinding you don't really get wheat flour so much as smaller wheat chunks.  Begins to beat head on countertop.  At this point I'm determined.  I don't like to be beaten and this bread is not going to beat me.  I'll save you the next few grueling steps and show you the finished product:
Isn't it beautiful!?  (Let me help you with the correct answer:  Why yes, Sierra, it is lovely.  All that hard work was worth it.)  Ohhhh, thank you for your kind, non-coerced words!  My house smells wonderful!  I want to make another loaf but with less sweat and blood.

P.S.  Kneading dough is my new favorite hobby.
P.P.S.  If we are reading children stories with lines like "I'll grind your bones to make my bread" can we really blame all the school age violence on video games?  Just something to consider.

Wednesday, April 6, 2011

A Love Story

Disclaimer: This may be a bit sappy and is not soapbox-y at all.

Today is April 6th.  That means that it has been one year to the day that Josh and I officially started dating.  Most everyone loves a good romance, so here's mine.

Josh and I met in vertebrate embryology.  Our eyes locked across a cross section of a chicken embryo and we knew it was meant to be.  Well, not quite but close.  He is habitually early and I am occasionally early.  There we sat, alone in the classroom.  He was reading, I was texting.  I eventually decided it was rude to sit in total silence.  So I asked him what he was reading.  After that we started talking.  The problem was I didn't know his name.  I kept talking to him for months, still avoiding addressing him directly because "hey you" is such a turn off. 

Around March, there was a test coming up and I got a Facebook message asking if I'd like to meet up to study.  This was a turning point, the message had his name on it!  Woo hoo!  No name no more!  I replied I'd love to study (there was sooooo much material).  I picked a convient time because I had a date later that night and had to drive to JC anyway.  Let me just pause here to mention that I am oblivious.  Totally, completely oblivious.  It never occurred to me that he had anything on his mind besides the chick nervous system.  Still oblivious, I picked the place to meet:  Waffle House.  Nothing says budding romance like the stench of fried foods.  Mom, being slightly more observant than me, suggested I dress up.  I did, after all I had a date after the study session.  When I got to Waffle House I discovered my jade silk blouse had a rip four inches long.  Isn't that wonderful?  He got a great view of my stomach all night long.  I was mortified.  No biggie though, it was just studying.  I was heading to GA in a few months where I planned to meet a geneticist, fall in love, and have perfect test tube babies.  I went on my date afterwards and broke up with that guy that very night.

Suddenly, Josh and I were talking more and more.  I found myself creating reasons to see him.We would talk as we would walk to our cars.  Isn't that sweet?  Sure, except I parked across campus from where he did.  So for a little while I would walk out to his car, wave bye, wait til he got in his car and double back across campus to my car.  Then I started moving my car halfway through the day.  I said I wanted to learn to drive a stick shift (a wonderful skill to know that I still haven't mastered).  I knew he had a stick shift and he started coming over after work to teach me to drive.  Somehow we always ended up watching tv til really late.  I was falling for him but I pushed that aside because I was moving, I had plans.  Make a plan and God laughs.

Finally, he got up the nerve to ask me out!  It was precious and I blushed the whole time we were talking.  He picked a time.  Then I realized that the date was set during the middle of the Tennessee basketball game and it was March Madness.  I called and asked if he'd like to cancel so he could watch the game.  He laughed and said he wasn't that into TN basketball (horrors!).  So we went to a bbq place.  This was bad on two levels:  one, you should never have bbq on a first date, it's a messy dish that can't be eaten delicately; two, the restaurant had tvs everywhere and the TN game was on.  I was completely distracted.  I actually started yelling at the tv in the middle of one of his sentences.  This was not an auspicious start.  Somehow, and I will never know how, this did not make Josh run and hide.  We had one more date after that.  Then I got a call saying he would like to discuss our relationship.  Uh-oh.

I figured a "discussion" needed fuel so I made homemade dumplings.  Now to have this serious talk I was covered head to toe in flour.  Great.  We beat around the bush FOREVER!  Finally at almost 1 AM, Josh started in on the main event.  He said that he wanted to get married and start a family and that he thought he wanted to do that with me (mouth drops open).  He would like for us to date exclusively with that goal in mind.  He continued that he knew I was going to GA but we would work around that because when he started in on a relationship he meant for it to last.  Then he asks what I think.  I close my gaping mouth and respond "Um...okay.  Does that mean we can put it on Facebook?"  Eloquent, mature, and flour covered, what a catch.

That was April 6th.  By the end of June (while walking hand in hand on the beach) we decided we did want to get married and he gave me the go ahead to look at engagement rings.  In August I begged him to let me forget about UGA and stay with him instead of moving five hours away.  No dice.  I moved, we visited.  In October, on the day of the UT/UGA football game he went alone to my house and talked to my parents for over an hour and ended up with permission to ask for my hand.  Later that month he recreated our first kiss and proposed.  We set the date for May but changed it when there was a conflict at the church.  We've been married over two months now.  I can't believe ALL of that has happened in just one year.  It's been the best and craziest year of my life.  I can't wait to spend all the rest with him.

Monday, April 4, 2011

Where do all the socks go???

When I was younger I thought my mother was senile.  We had a pile of socks with no "buddy" on top of our dryer.  I thought "Poor woman, she can't keep track of socks between the bathroom and the washing machine.  We're going to have to put her in a home."  Then I got married and started doing Hubby's laundry.  Turns out my mother isn't losing her; they are Gone!  WHERE DO THEY GO???  I am accumulating a pile of socks with no matches on top of my dryer.  How can I have this many socks with no matches??  Shouldn't you just have two, one of my socks, one of Hubby's?  There is one sock that has been on top of the washer since the first load of laundry that I did right after we got married.  Granted, we have only been married a couple of months but Surely in that time I would have found it's match!  Yet I refuse to throw it away because that will invariably bring it's buddy out of hiding and then I'll be regretting throwing the first one away.  Don't laugh at me, you know it's true.

So, I have established that this is a true phenomenon but I still don't have an answer to the most basic question of where these lost socks end up.  Is there a Neverland of Socks where instead of Lost Boys there are Lost Socks?  Are elves taking them?  If so, why aren't those elves tossing a load in the wash or at the very least leaving some cookies behind?  I think a dryer monster is eating them.  That is the only logical conclusion I can reach (logical has a broad definition in my happy little world).  Well the laundry is in the wash and I better go protect the socks or maybe I'll leave them to their fate and read a magazine instead.

Sunday, April 3, 2011

Intro and Dresses

Hi!  I am sooo excited that you are reading my blog.  You must be bored.  Or related to me.  It's not that I am truly that that fascinating.  I'm actually really normal but in this age of technology even the most normal of people get to be diva's in their own right by sharing those funny, embarrassing, day-to-day life events.  That and I have opinions, a Lot of opinions.  I call them soapboxes (are you seeing the connection to the blog title?  I thought so).  Now I get to share all my opinions with, well, everyone and anyone!  Let me start by saying opinions are like buttholes, everyone has them, you don't have to agree.  Disagreement is what makes a wonderfully democratic society!  And hey, I welcome your comments (I get really bored at work sometimes), dissenting or agreeing or just equally bored at your job lol!

Now that we're done with that, let's talk about one of my favorite topics:  dresses!  I have a TON of them.  Seriously.  My closet, well currently my parents attic, is a virtual Ross.  I can't wear dresses to work because acid spills on your legs are not such a happy thing.  I'm sitting here, on my couch, ready for church and what am I wearing you ask?  A pretty knee length swinging skirt reminiscent of the 50's?  A long maxi dress from this year's Old Navy collection?  No.  :(  It's cold.  It has been cold forever.  I am wearing cords.  This is not April attire in my opinion.  This is December attire.  I can all but hear the dresses calling to me from my parents house (and frequently my parents do call asking when all  my stuff is leaving their abode).  Soon it will be dress season.  I already have my Easter dress and I am way excited!  I may have to post a picture because I think it's precious!  Til then I better head to worship the Lord in these cords, sigh.  Maybe I'll pray for warm weather while I'm there.