Friday, March 26, 2010

A Message from Ukraine

I received this email from my brother in Ukraine last month:

Don't let these moody males get you down,
Just make a smile from your frown.
When you find the one that floats your boat,
Build a bridge, not a moat.
Oh how I wish you're doing well,
My, oh my, that would be swell.

Isn't he great? It's sound advice, I think. :-)

Monday, March 22, 2010

Skies of Blue and Clouds of White

I really love life. Spring is here. I am happy to be warm. I'm glad to have my vitamin D back. I want to go play some guitar and have a sing-along barefoot in the park. Ahhh...

This is a good time to list things I love about life. So here some of them are.

Stars. Constellations. Telescopes. Puffy clouds. Traveling. Pretty rocks. Southern Utah. Green trees. Weeping willows. Dreamcatchers. Feathers. Mowing the lawn. Planting flower gardens. Picking and eating strawberries. Hiking. Camping. Cats. Dogs. Elephants. Watching giraffes run. Airbourne. Live musicals. Lightning bugs. Dr. Suess. Singing in the car. Road trips. Fluting. Guitar. Bluegrass music. Good rootbeer in a frosty glass. Raspberry hot chocolate. Comfortable tennis shoes. Swiss chocolate. Fondue. Fresh fruit salads. Primary songs. Conducting a choir. Swing dancing. Folk dance rec nights. Wrestling with my brother. Funny-looking fish. Skipping. Skipping stones. Laughing. Going to the beach. Climbing to the top of a mountain. Clogging in the grocery store. City Parks. Roller Coasters. Water Parks. Wind across face while biking. Praying mantises. Lumbering manatees. Starfish. Anemones. That cool little fern that closes and opens it's leaves when you touch it (not a Venus Fly Trap). Brightly colored Gerbera Daisies. Frisbee. Sunsets. Demotivators from (hey, they can be funny sometimes). Asaba. Finding seashells on the beach. Building sand castles. Horchata. Limes. Good smelling lotions and hand soaps. Braiding a little girl's hair. Letting a little girl braid my hair. Playing hide-and-seek with little kids. Committal cuddling and hand holding. Singing hymns in a quartet. Reading good picture books. Trampolines. Pogo sticks. Hugs. Tenor voices in a choir. Getting a haircut. Campfires. S'Mores. Rope Swings. Cool bridges. Climbing trees. Laying in the sun. Sleeping in. Warm chocolate chip cookies. Farms. Amish country. Competition in speedy card games. Batik fabric. Thai curry. Indian food. Cafe Rio pork salads. Chicken Parmigiana. Banana splits. Hot fudge malts. Watching little kids blow bubbles. Hula Hoops. A friendly debate. Those wonderful old Disney movies. Taking pictures. Birthdays. Holidays. Roller hockey. Smoothies. Family.

There is more, but this is all for now! Feel free to add to the list in the comments section.

Meeting the Parents

I waited a bit to post this one for fear of being discovered, but I think I'm safe now.

I had been going out with a nice man (we'll call him Matt) at least once a week consistently for about two and a half months (he is only in town on the weekends because of his job). We had also sent texts semi-frequently when his was away. We got to the point that he told me he wasn't going to ask any other girls out, he started buying me things like crazy (including a DVD player), he complimented me sweetly, and all signs pointed toward exclusive dating, although we weren't 'official.'

He wanted to hang out one Sunday, but I had already told my mother that I would come home for dinner. Naturally, she knew about him, so I asked if I could take him along. She could never remember his name, so before he came, she wrote M-A-T-T with a black marker in big block letters across the palm of her hand.

She has a habit of being an animated story teller, so as we were around the table, she would wave her hands about while talking. "Matt" was sitting to her left, I was across from her, and my dad was on her right. Fortunately, she'd written it on her left hand, so he may not have seen it... If he did, he was being very good about ignoring it.

Yet every time she would wave her hand, flashing his name, my dad and I would peal into another bout of laughter, seeing his name so conspicuously. Then she would cross her arms and try to tell the story without using her hands. Within thirty seconds, she'd forget and be waving her arms around again.

That's my mother, in a nutshell.

PS - He never called me or asked me out again.

Sunday, March 21, 2010

Right Arm... broken

Okay, it's not really broken. I just tore a ligament skiing last week Wednesday. I came around a bend of trees to see two guys cutting across the mountain from the other side. I swerved to avoid the first one, which set a direct collision course for the second one. Before either of us could move, our paths crossed and we nicked skis at high velocity.

I bounced on my outstretched right arm and sprained my elbow, then flipped onto my face. I slid face-first down the mountain for a few seconds, then rolled onto my left shoulder and neck, because flying down a sheet of ice on your face is not the most comfortable feeling in the world, although it provides for excellent cosmetic exfoliation once the scrapes stop bleeding. I finally somehow got myself oriented so my feet were pointing down the mountain, and stopped myself. My poles were at least 50 feet up the mountain at this point. I should have yelled "As you wish!" but didn't think about it at the time.

When I got to the bottom, I saw that it was two minutes until 9pm and the lifts close at 9. So I hopped back on the lift for another run. I ended up going down with my poles in the left hand and my right arm tucked against my stomach. That was not one of my brighter moments, but I am happy to report that it was free of incident.

It has been kind of fun doing everything with my left arm. I never knew I could drive, cook, and put on makeup left-handed! The only things I've really had trouble with are doing my hair and putting on a coat/long-sleeved shirt.

Oh, and I'm mad that I can't play frisbee or go biking now that the weather's warm. Grr!

And, my face is still peeling.

Nothing is Too Wonderful to be True

My roommate and I went on a date to P.F. Chang's not too long ago. Just the two of us.

Our waiter was a manager. I had a gift certificate for $20. My roommate and I each ordered our entree. He brought us an appetizer. We looked at each other, confused. "Oh, we didn't order that," I said. He said, "I know."

Then he brought me a delicious strawberry lemonade and my roommate an Italian cream soda. My roommate and I shot each other looks of disbelief. When we finished drinking them, he brought us a root beer float. By now I was pretty much incredulous. Then he brought us our entrees. About halfway through, we were both really full from the drinks, appetizer, and main course. But we kept eating.

When we were finished, he brought us a bowl of coconut ice cream (how did he know P.F. Chang's coconut ice cream is one of my favorite desserts!) He threw about 20 fortune cookies on the table and told us to mash them into the ice cream. I was in ice cream heaven. We were so full after eating that we ended up walking around the mall for about an hour just to feel normal again.

The grand total after the $20 gift certificate for both of us combined? $1.25. I left a pretty good tip, though.