to do list

Seeing as I am no longer gainfully employed, I thought perhaps I ought to start a to-do list, so as to make the best use of my time. Here is what I have so far:

1. Buy high heels, pearls, and new apron

2. Buy a litter

3. Need people to carry me on litter. Place ad in craigslist.

4. Grapes

5. Need people to eat the grapes for me. Place ad in craigslist.

6. Find wisecracking friend. Make her move in next door. Better if her name is Ethel and she is married to a dude named Fred.

7. Call Paul at work to have a long, meaningful conversation about my feelings. Become offended when he has to do his job.

I always feel so much better when I'm busy, you know? I think I'll go name all my socks now.

we are one, but we're not the same

Andrea: You know, I guess we're sort of opposites, but it never really occurred to me until recently, because we have a lot in common.

Paul: Oh, like we're both humans, with hair? And teeth?

Andrea: Yeah. Like that.

birds or twinkies?

I've been experimenting a bit with my blog's look. I like this backdrop, because I think the birds are kinda cute, plus I think the overall tone is superhappyfun, which is what I'm going for. Today though, I found a blogger template with......

Twinkies.

Dude.

TWINKIES!!!!!!

I find myself feeling conflicted. Do I stay with the cute birds and flowers, or do I represent my love of refined white sugar?

I am really at a loss here.

See Paul Go

Check out Paul, riding the mechanical bull at Johnny Utah's. Good times.

i hate math

I hate math.

I hate math's guts.

I wish math would go away and leave me alone.

I am supposed to go and take a stupid test tomorrow and it's going to tell the whole world how stupid I am at math and then everyone is going to point and laugh at my stupidness and I HATE STUPID MATH!!!

I would like to pause and take a moment to offer my sincere apologies to any math lovers. I know in my mind that math is beautiful and logical.

It's also stupid.

About half an hour ago, as I alternately glared at my ACT prep book and attempted word problems, Paul came in to check on me. I think I'll work out, he said. Want to work out with me?

Of course I responded that I can't work out because I HAVE TO STUDY, and he said okay, whatever you want, and I then I got mad because I really wanted to work out but I was up to my earlobes in STUPID MATH and how is that fair, that he gets to work out and then he's going to look great plus he's smart, and I'll be STUPID AND FLABBY FOR THE REST OF MY LIFE.

Go ahead and work out and get all buff, I said. I'll just stay here and get more stupid.

He smiled at me.

So I said are you laughing at me? You think this is funny? I'M NOT GOING TO BE ABLE TO WORK OUT FOR THE REST OF MY LIFE!!!

He said he wasn't laughing at me, but I could see him biting his lip.

Then he grinned and said it's just that I can see you being....well, you, and I love you.

Bah.

Stupid math.

dad

I first med my dad when I was born, and we've been friends ever since. (I'm just going to pretend like my teenage years never happened, okay?) Every time I talk to my dad I love him a little bit more, and I loved him quite a lot to start with, so.....you do the math. Which, by the way, he is really good at. I really, really love him. Here are some of my favorite things about my dad:

1. He loves the Lord. He always, always wants to be found doing the Lord's work, and I can't think of one instance when he hasn't been. No fanfare, no big deal to him. He sees work to be done, and does it.

2. He loves my mom. Really, really loves her. I asked my mom once what were some of the things she loved about my dad, and she told me that when he looked at her, he had the kindest eyes she had ever seen. Ever since I heard her say that, I try to take close-up pictures of him. See? Kind eyes.

2. He loves me. He loves all of us kids, but for now I'm going to be nice and selfish and just talk about how he loves me. He has always wanted a strong relationship with his children, and knowing the importance of communication, would make time each Sunday for a father-daughter chat. By the time I was a teenager I was of course obligated to find this tedious and dorky, but really it was pretty awesome, and I'd like to start a petition to overturn this mandated crabbiness for teenagers. Now that I'm grown and away from home, he writes me letters. Can you believe that? Letters, with spiritual and fatherly council that never fails to uplift and inspire. Each letter ends with him expressing his love and gratitude for his family, and.....yeah. I'm pretty close to crying right now.

3. He wants to be riding a bike when he's 90. You know what? I totally think he will. Every morning, my dad does four things: reads his scriptures, writes in his journal, says a prayer, and goes for a jog. Man, I love that. I want to be more like my dad.

4. He forgives people. I was not a nice teenager. I yelled. I slammed doors. I glared. Yep, there were several years when I was not very pleasant, but never has he made me feel bad. He's just happy when people change for the better, you know?

I have like a million more things, but then I'd be crying buckets and that might scare Paul, so I think I'll end here.

Dad, I love you. Maybe someday, I'll be more like you. I sure hope so.

a near miss

Today I almost, ALMOST got pooped on.

There are two worlds: One in which we blissfully lunch at the park, hatless and carefree, and the other world where we cast nervous glances at large gatherings of fowl and recount our bitter war stories. Phrases like "Oh, that could never happen to me", and "lucky for me I have invisible bird poop repellent with me at all times" are so easily rolled off the tongue, but of course we have no immunity. Only a staunch belief in our invisible bird poop repellent.

As I sat on the park bench enjoying the sun and thinking of prospective names for my hypothetical future offspring, I was an inhabitant of the first world, and happy to be so. Moments of tragedy are never anticipated, and this was no exception. A split second was all it took for the, er, dropping, to splat onto the park bench, soiling the hem of my skirt.

My life flashed before my eyes, I tell you.

That is perhaps an exaggeration. Maybe my life did not in fact flash before my eyes, but I was certainly reminded of how fleeting life can be, and how we must be certain to make the most of the moments we are given and if I may say, the outfits we wear, as we can never really be sure if this will be the last time we are to enjoy wearing that cute little number we have pulled from our wardrobe.

I now stand before you (well, I'm not actually standing, but I think it sounds kind of more powerful than "I sit before you") a changed woman. A woman who has been spared the misery of bird poop on her hair, and I am determined my life shall be better for it. I of course regret that Skirt was not spared, but I pledge that Skirt shall not have been soiled in vain.

As I consider how my life will be changed and improved as a result of this experience, I must be honest that I am really coming up with nothing here. I mean, I'm really not a hat person, plus they mess up my hair and I do love a good blow-dry. I'm also not an advocate for violence directed at pidgeons, however careless they may be about where they choose to relieve themselves, so there seems to be absolutely nothing to be done beyond the usual savor-every-minute stuff.

I think maybe I'll just go home and hug my clothes.