Goodreads Just Needs to Add Half Stars Already

Good books are all alike, bad book are each bad in their own way.
              ~Anna Karenina (sort of)

So I just finished a series last week.  It was . . . not good.  Frankly, it started at "meh" and descended into "awful" by the time I finished.  It was not so bad that I regret reading it - I've read a few of those - but it was bad enough that I do kind of wish I'd known from the start not to pick it up.  I realize that probably doesn't make a lot of sense, but it makes perfect sense in my head so we're just gonna go with it.

I picked it up because it sounded like a fun read, and with multi-thousand reviews giving an average of almost four out of five stars it seemed like it must be at least tolerable, right?  And that's where things all fell apart.  Because I absolutely do not see what it is that the other 93% saw in it to give it a high rating. (perhaps I need to occupy goodreads?)

The hardest part is looking at the ratings my friends have left on the books, which also influenced my expectations of what I was reading - ten ratings, all fours and fives.  And it took some real internal debate for me to give even two stars.

So now we get an oft-visited topic around here - How Lacey Hates Being Noticeably Different from Everybody: Books Edition.  I'd say that easily 90% of my goodreads books haven't even been added by any of my goodreads friends.  But of the books that do have opinions to compare, it's usually pretty varied, and more or less middle of the road.  I don't feel bad about giving a book two stars when I see that people I know have already given it a one, a four, and three threes.  But giving something a one when it has seven fives and three fours . . . is actually a little distressing.  Which sounds totally ridiculous, and is a total non-issue, but at the same time I look at that little list of stars and I can't help but think - what did I miss?  Did we even read the same book?  (I'm about 75% we didn't at this point)

And then I get all self-conscious like I'm in the wrong class or wandered into a wedding reception at some hotel ballroom where I don't know anyone but got pulled into the conga line before I could duck back out and now everyone's asking me how I know the newlyweds and I'm just trying to figure out how to answer in a way that won't make me look like a party crasher.

I feel a little guilty about not liking this trilogy too, almost as if I am crashing a party considering how almost universally well-liked it is.  But the simple fact of the matter is, it's bad.  The first book is iffy, the second book wipes away any potential for redeeming the whole, and the third book is just bad metaphor after stupid cliche after plot hole after illogical and unexplained escape from painted corners.  Rinse, repeat.  I really don't get it . . . and, for a couple of weeks at least, I feel like I almost can't trust my own opinions.  I much prefer the books where I can say it's not my thing but I can see how others would like it.  But when there's more to like in Twilight . . . yeah.  This does not work for me.

That said, I have to admit there is something that is just so . . . satisfying about writing a review about a book I didn't like.  I guess it's a cathartic thing, the angrier I am when I finish the book, the better I feel when I finish the review.  I do my best to be nice while still being honest, although I assume it probably doesn't always come across that way.  (actually, if we're being honest I'm coming to realize it's probably safest to assume I'm coming across more or less the opposite way from what I intended in most situations)  I don't know what it is, but I always have an easier time expressing what I didn't like about a book (or movie or whatever) than I do about what I like about it.  Reading a good book is such an overall enjoyable experience . . . was it because the characters were fun?  Because the dialogue was snappy and clever?  The overall premise and plot were unique and well written?  they all blend together so seamlessly in a good book, one aspect making up for where another might be a little bit lacking that it just becomes hard for me to say what it was that took it from two stars to three, or three to four.  But a one star book, now - those I can almost always point to the moments where I was thinking something didn't make sense, or was too convenient, or not as funny as the book itself thought it was, or just plain didn't work.   Especially in a book I wanted to like (as these were) it's so easy to point to where and how that desire was disappointed.

The good news is the book I'm currently reading is sitting at a solid three, depending on the ending, and only one other person has even added it.  And the next one in my pile is the fifth in a series I've become quite the fan of.  So hopefully I can shake off this dissonance by the time they're both done.


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Have I already posted this one?  Oh well, don't care.  It's cute.  And we've been singing this song around here a lot lately . . . not sure why though . . .

Finding My Place

I used to be really good about writing in a journal.  All through high school I wrote consistently every week . . . well, I missed a few here and there, but not many.  That tapered off pretty quickly in college - and even though I much prefer actually physically writing, blogging has pretty much replaced it.  Which, obviously, has its pros and cons.

Anyway.  (Sort of) on that note I just want to take a moment to record for posterity how glad I am that the internet exists.  Because if I do have a place in this world, the internet seems to be it.

I've known this for a long time, but in some ways I'm rediscovering it: there is a niche for everyone on the internet.  You'd never guess it reading the comments on a random news article or youtube video, those seem to bring out the very dregs of humanity.  But dig a little deeper and you can find close-knit little communities dedicated to everything under the sun . . . and probably a few things over it too.

Sometimes I feel a little out of place on these sites.  I mean there are people who's lives appear to completely revolve around Stargate SG-1, or color guard, or Tamora Pierce books.  And mine . . . doesn't.  It almost makes me feel like I have ADD or something because I'm a casually-huge fan of sooooooooo many things, so I kind of hop from one "club" to another depending on my mood.  But even so, every time I've stuck my toe timidly into a new fandom pool I've been welcomed whole-heartedly.  And I've really appreciated it - especially considering how much free time I have to spend online.

It's just so nice to have a place(s) and group(s) where I'm completely and truly welcomed and accepted.  Heaven knows that has yet to happen to me in real life.  I'm a somewhat socially awkward person, and the larger the group the more awkward I get.  And that has led to groups where I was tolerated . . . or marginalized . . . or even made into a charity improvement project.  While I've always come away from a group with one or two friendship that have and will last a long time, I've never found success in group settings.  In fact, more often than not my time in them seems to end in some sort of over-dramatic explosion or implosion that's crushing, but deep down is also expected.  (I kind of can't believe I lasted as long as I did in my last attempt at a group, actually.)  And while I don't think my interests are all that out of the ordinary, it's always seemed like I'm the only one I know in real life who's into those things.  In one recent case one of my interests was so mocked that I've been hesitant to even mention it to anyone ever since - even online.

So yeah.  I'm glad the internet exists.  And that there are places on it where people are nice to each other.  I may know a lot of my friends only by screen name and avatar, but at least they don't get snarky when I mention a favorite tv show or movie.  I hope this post doesn't sound like I'm depressed, I'm really feeling more included and encouraged than I have in a while . . . possibly my entire adult life.  Like I'm moving on from some things, getting over others, closing chapters and all those other cliches.  I'm good.  As long as the power doesn't go out. :-)


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Another reason to love the internet.  How else could a bunch of bored Welshmen show off their absolute brilliance?

And It Must Follow

Two years into my biggest attempt at a resolution I'm feeling like the world's biggest failure.  And frankly, writing this isn't helping.  Perhaps I'm too much of a stats junkie, but it's just depressing to watch the number of views and comments your blog gets slowly plummet, and to have the numbers right before you to verify it's not just in your head.  And considering the fact that my blog has been more popular in Russia and Sweden than in the US lately, I can only assume that very few people I actually know will ever read this . . . but perhaps strangers can offer me better advice.  Because heaven knows, when it appears that even one's grandparents have stopped reading one's blog, one must be doing something horribly wrong.

And I can only assume that the whole "be myself" thing was horribly wrong in my case.  Apparently when I do that what people see is not actually me (at least, what I would recognize as me) but an emo teenager.  Which doesn't make a lot of sense, since I wasn't exactly emo even when I was a teenager.  I don't understand it, and I can't find an explanation.  All I know is that for the better part of last year I was trying to balance being myself with being someone who doesn't accidentally alienate people without even knowing how I'd been alienating them in the first place.  It probably won't surprise anyone, but I couldn't do it.  It was bewildering . . . torturous.  Months of second-guessing everything I did, said, or thought, and in the end I was more lost than I had been to start with.

I thought this sort of confusion was supposed to . . . just . . . I don't know, evaporate as a person got older.  You know who you are, you get to know other people - so you relate to them.  You can interact and be friends.  Successfully.  Except not me, apparently.  When does the part where you start feeling like an adult start?  Because right now I feel like the ten-year-old trying to blend in at the grown-up table.  I know I'm doing it wrong, and I can see that it's so easy for everyone else at the table - but something is just not connecting.  And there's always that sense in the back of my mind that everyone else has the freedom to say and do whatever comes to mind, but I need to ask permission first.

I'm not sure where to go next.  I suppose I should start trying to find myself again - as cliche and "overdone bildungsroman memoir" as that sounds.  And I think it starts with accepting a few things.  I will never fit in . . . I just won't.  I'm not that kind of person.  I'm always going to be lonely, even in a group.  The good news is that's something I've had since high school to get used to.  It doesn't get easier, but at least it's familiar territory.  And when it gets to the point that I feel unwelcome at social outings . . . well, the library will always let me in.

Of course, it's rather depressing to have no reason to go anywhere else.

I don't know where I'll be in another two years.  But hopefully whatever track I've decided to take between now and then is more successful than the apparently disastrous effort I've dedicated the last two to.  I wish I knew how I went so wrong.  Is there some European thing that could fix me?


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Pretty sure this is what I'll look like going back to work Monday . . .

Eliot Had the Wrong "A" Month

August is such a month of change.  Every year . . . even after the point where you'd think it wouldn't be such a significant month anymore.  But somehow it shows up again every 334 days and at the very least some tiny little corner of life is turned upside-down.

This week was/is the six year anniversary of me moving to Florida and starting at Disney.  For a week I didn't document in any way at all I remember it incredibly well - I checked in on the 21st, program orientation on the 22nd, Traditions on the 23rd, On With the Show on the 24th, Honey training on the 25th, assessment on the 26th, working on the 27th, and finally a couple of days of on the 29th and 30th . . . but only through an act of God.  And an awesome intervention by a manager because my training buddy and I originally weren't scheduled for a day off until Friday and Saturday, and while ten straight days became something that we did regularly later on, there is no way that we would have made it that week.  Of course, somehow the schedule changed in one program but not the other and when I came back to work on Thursday I discovered I had two no call/no shows on my record.  Which led to a minor panic attack from visions of being fired before I even got my first paycheck, but thankfully that one happened to be a simple and quick fix.

And that's where it began - the two and a half years that would completely change my life.  Of course, it could be argued ones life is completely changed every time two and half years passes, but some are more noticeable than others, and these were definitely the most dramatic of my life thus far.  You may have noticed that I've been on a bit of a nostalgia kick lately.  All year, really.  Turns out high school reunions will do that to you.  Well, that and some old Disney friends posting a bunch of old pictures and videos from the height of the old "glory days" when work meant a couple dozen 20-somethings showing up hungover (either from alcohol or from three hours of sleep for the entire week) and seeing just how much craziness we could get away with before the managers rolled their eyes and said "okay, that's enough."  We didn't generally push the boundaries beyond that - we needed the money to pay for the food we ate and souvenirs we bought spending all our free time at work (so to speak).

After spending this summer seeing things from that tiny stretch of time . . . being reminded of things I'd completely forgotten . . . it's been something else.  It's made me realize how much I miss those days.  I was so burned out by the end, but before that those were days never to be forgotten.  So much so that I actually logged back into my myspace account recently.  I was actually a little surprised that I still could, it's been at least four years since the last time I did.  But there were pictures on there that I lost when my hard drive got fried and two years worth of blogs chronicling the time from just before I graduated college to right around when Luke and I got engaged(slash about the time I stopped using myspace).  I hadn't thought about them in ages, but suddenly I had to have them again, so I spent something like three hours the other night copying the blogs into a word document.  And laughing in amazement and amusement over the detailed accounts of tiny little things, so I'd completely forgotten.  It's crazy to see such stark evidence of what a different person I am now than I was then.  It made a good contrast to the video from the reunion - I could identify with those little freshmen.  I could remember being one of them, and sometimes it feels so much like no time has passed . . . like I'm still 14 . . . like we all are.  But I read my blogs from just a few years ago, and while I remember everything now that I've read it, I see it in my head and it's almost like an out of body experience.  In some cases I even remember the entire outfit I was wearing but I watch it like - well, like Emily in Our Town Act III.  There's got to be some irony in that somewhere, right?

Anyway.  I read those blogs and I'm amazed, not just at how I've changed but at just who I was back then.  On the one hand, I was very aware of just who was reading then and why . . . and it's quite the long story that I shan't get into now.  I'm not ashamed of who I see in them, although some people probably would think I should be.  But if I hadn't been her then, I wouldn't be me now.  I don't know that I can say that I regret nothing, but any list of regrets would definitely be in just the single digits.  It's amazing - and I wasn't expecting it . . . but rediscovering who I was has left me more comfortable with who I am.  It hasn't put all the little issues and anxieties I have to rest, but it has reminded me what it is to feel comfortable in my own skin.

It's been an immensely cheering little trip down memory lane, but a little depressing too.  One of my old friends sums it up best here.  And while all of us who were part of that particular story couldn't read it without copious amounts of tears, the first part won't mean much of anything to anyone who wasn't there.  But I imagine the second half to be something anyone can understand.  Those few years . . . they were something else.  And there's no getting them back, but I'm not sure I even want to.  As we all know, you can't go home again.  :-)

I'm not sure what I might do with the blogs.  Part of me wants to post them all today and give everyone else a bit of a laugh too . . . another part wants them to never see the light of day again.  I probably will post a few here and there when the whim of nostalgia strikes.  If nothing else, the entertainment value is seriously through the roof, lol.  For now though, I think I'll just enjoy a renewed sense of security in myself.  Even if it is tinged with some sadness.


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Now here's a couple of slightly trippy moments I would have loved to see in person!  Hooray for Push! :-)

I Wonder

My senior year of college I had a job as a reading tutor at an elementary school. (and for those of you thinking I chose the wrong major . . . yeah, no.)  I enjoyed it, although I don't know if I would call it fun, unlike my job now.  I was thinking the other day - I worked with kids from kindergarten to fourth grade and it was enough years ago that I need two hands to count them.  This year . . . the kindergartners are in sixth grade.  As in - older than the oldest kids in the school I'm at now.  The fourth graders?  Finishing up their sophomore year of high school.  Ho.  Ly.  Crap.  How did that happen?

I wonder from time to time if they remember me.  I only saw each of them for about half an hour a couple of times a week, so it was a much more . . . professional isn't quite the word but it;s the best I can think of . . . relationship.  As opposed to the fun, silly, relationship I have with a lot of the kids now.  I try to be fit the "friend" label at the same time as the "teacher" one.  The good cop to the official teacher's bad cop (not that any of the teachers I work with are "bad cops" . . . but in a "if I have to send you to them because you just won't listen to me you know you'll be in soooooooooooooo much trouble" sort of way).  Anyway.  I really wonder where those first kids I worked with are.  If they remember me, even vaguely.

My senior year of high school our band and orchestra went on a short "tour" to Idaho Falls.  It will be immediately obvious to any family reading that my mom was pretty much in charge of the whole trip - mostly because she was, I believe, president of the booster club at the time, and that was mostly because only, like, three other parents showed up to the meeting to restart the booster club.  Anyway.  We went played a joint concert with the IFHS band, and Ashli and I both saw some old friends we'd left behind.  And we played a concert for the kids at our old elementary school.  (like I said, pretty obvious that my mom planned pretty much the whole thing, right?)  It was actually two concerts, one for the lower grades and one for the upper grades, and a little bit of downtime in between during lunchtime.  My first, fifth, and sixth grade teachers were still there so Ashli and I went to see them (two of them had her too).  I remember being a little surprised that my first grade teacher remembered us, I always pictured her in my head as so old.  She wasn't really, she had a son in high school (college?) when I was in her class, but when you're six any lady with white hair has one foot in the grave, you know?  And of course, at the time it had only been four years since my family had been a regular fixture at that school.  But all three remembered us and seemed really happy to see us, and I'm sure my impending graduation made them feel more than a little old.  I wonder if they would recognize/remember me if I went back now.

And I wonder how long these kids will remember me - and how.  As the random mean lady who wouldn't help them on a math problem that I knew they knew how to do?  Or the fun teacher who let them talk as much as they wanted as long as work was getting done?  The one who wouldn't take their crap or the one who would joke around with them as long as it was appropriate?

There are two boys in fourth grade who's class I've been in since I started working at Ellis when they were in second grade.  I adore all the kids, but these guys are two of my favorites.  And it makes me a little sad to know I probably won't be in their class next year because the fifth grade teachers really like the aides they have - and the one I'm with this year is moving back down to fourth grade next year.  And I keep hearing that all the teachers I've already worked with want me in their classes, so the odds of me getting a "new" teacher next year strike me as slim.  But I kind of wish I could "finish" their elementary school years with these two.  It's been so fun watching them for the last three.  On the one hand, it seems like they haven't changed a bit . . . but on the other I can see how much they have, even just from the beginning of this year.

And back we go tot he beginning.  I'm sure they'll remember their teachers ten, twenty years from now.  But me?  I know I've done a lot of good here, and helped a lot of kids . . . but just how influential have I been.  This whole having aides in the room a lot is a pretty new thing . . . I think.  At least, we didn't have them when I was in school.  So I have nothing to go on.  I'm not trying to be self-centered here.  But sometimes I wonder just how much I've done in their minds.  They're the ones I'm there to help - if they've completely forgotten me within five years does that mean I didn't help as much as thought I did, or just that there were a lot of things going on and a person just can't remember every little detail?

I always get a little pensive at the end of the school year . . . this year especially.


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I could seriously watch this longer than watching a kitty on a roomba. :-)

Alway a Little Off

I've never fallen into that category one would call "on par with one's peers." From reading Dickens at 5 to being 27 and child free in Utah there are not many things I've done when I was "supposed" to.

This used to bother me. A lot. Particularly when it involved anything having to do with relationships. At graduation from high school I was one of the ones pegged to get married my freshman year. Now, this may come as a bit of a shock to a few of you . . . but that didn't quite happen. :-)

No, I went through college essentially dateless. Okay, I had a few dates (four, I think) but they were all set-ups, so that's how I'm counting it. Every year I had at least one roommate get engaged and I felt more and more left out and left behind. And even a little depressed because, as we all know, a 20-something girl in Utah is only worth as much as she can get herself dates/diamonds. So there were times when I felt pretty worthless.

Somewhere along the line my senior year I finally started to accept myself for who I was and where I was. It was perfect timing too, I went off to Florida ready to leave everything behind and finally be more of who I wanted to be and not so much who I was "supposed" to be. I met a ton of people my age - people who thought it was crazy when I told them that the majority of my friends back home were married, some even with multiple kids. At one point someone said, meaning it entirely complimentary, that I was "level headed, even if I was from Utah." Finally I had found a circle of peers with whom I was on the same course! I told myself that I was probably never going to get married and that that was okay, but if it did happen that was okay too and I would just live my life the way I wanted, being the best person I could be, and I would be happy either way.

Well, can I just say that sort of thinking needs to be taught more in YW lessons? Because we all know what happened next. Exactly a year after I got to Florida - almost to the day! - Luke showed up. And four months later . . . well, I was off track with everyone else again.

I thought I'd be this loner somewhere in the middle of two trends - my high school and college friends mostly having married several years before and my "heathen" Florida friends not likely to marry for several years after me. But while we were engaged a . . . well, we'll call it an interesting thing . . . happened. When we announced our engagement to our friends (two months after the fact . . . didn't want to see too Utah, lol) I got a text from a friend that boiled down to "I'm happy for you, but I think you guys are too young to get married." From someone who is my age. And while we were engaged, that person got engaged and is now happily married (I would assume), with an anniversary only about six months after ours. Still a little confused by that when I think about it.

And after that it seemed like we started a trend. At least a little one. Since then about half a dozen of my Florida friends have gotten married. Not a lot really, and nothing compared to all the engagement announcements that just kept coming my first couple of years of college, but WAY more than I ever expected from that circle for at least a few more years.

Soooooooo . . . here I am thinking I'm on track with a group again, yay!! We'll all hang out in our respective towns, many of us having gone our separate ways, and in two or three or five or eight more years or whatever some of us will start having kids.

I'm sure you can see where this is going.

(okay, there seriously needs to be a drum roll here. an epic, timpani roll.)

Including ALL circles of friends I currently know 13 - THIRTEEN - women who are pregnant. I have another FOURTEEN friends who have babies under a year old. And that's not including anyone who hasn't announced it yet. Most are first babies, but some are 3rd, 4th, or even 8th babies.

Okay, not eighth. But my point stands. And that point is . . .

Ho. Ly. Crap.

Suffice it to say, there is no way they're all getting baby bibs, even though I'd love to be able to send them all some. But a snowball has a better chance of getting nice and comfy and chilly in hell before I could manage to get the nine more sets I would need to do in the next few months. This has brought me to a couple of conclusions:

1 ~ By the time I am actually able to stockpile these bibs in accordance to my genius idea last year . . . I'M NOT GOING TO NEED THEM ANYMORE. Unless I decide to give them to my grandkids . . . you know, for their kids!

2 ~ You people must really be enjoying yourselves, *wink, wink*nudge, nudge* Dude.

I'm okay with being a little off from everyone else now. Have been for a few years. But sometimes things happen . . . like, you know, a period of time where it feels like the facebook pregnancy announcements are coming on a daily basis . . . where I just have to stop and think to myself - dang, I really don't march to everyone else's drummer! And then I think of how easy it is to pick out someone who's off step in a marching band. That used to make me feel like everyone was staring at me, even the thought of which kind of makes me freak out. Thankfully, I'm realizing people don't keep that close track of what I'm up to.

Except, you know, my parents. They've been on Baby Watch for going on four years now. (Team Jayla has a year on us.) In their case, I think I shall stick with the line that we're waiting for my dad to get a job again so my mother can afford to buy the entire inventory of Babies'R'Us . . . because everyone who knows my mom knows she will do it anyway. :-)


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Most of the "Hitler reacts" videos are hysterical . . . but this one? 100% fact. I'm not one to get super activist-y, but this has got to be stopped. It is beyond insane, and don't think it won't affect you. If it passes, my blog is sure to be gone - and yours probably will be too. Spread the word, join the fight, and do all those other cliched activist things. This is NOT. OKAY.

How I've Done

Last week a facebook friend posted asking if anyone else was thinking about New Year's resolutions yet. I wasn't (but now I am), but unlike pretty much every other year ever, I actually remembered the one I made this year. And actually thought about it throughout the year. I'd originally intended to keep myself really accountable by posting about how I was doing every month or six weeks or so . . . which, obviously, didn't happen. But I still think I've done a pretty good job at being myself. Some days better than others, naturally.

I don't think I've changed much - I'm still a great big bag of my own neuroses, paranoia, quirks, and silliness. But I feel like I'm more comfortable with the fact that this is who I am (most days, anyway). I still crave acceptance and approval, but I'm growing more okay with not having the accolades constantly pouring in, you know? For some reason my default reaction has always been the worst possible scenario. No one likes my latest facebook status/picture/video? I'm being shunned - by everyone on facebook. No one comments on my blog? Everyone has stopped reading - even the random Iranian(s?) who've popped up a couple dozen times and I couldn't possibly know because I'm pretty sure I don't know anyone in/from Iran.

I've always been pathetically insecure, and for a while a few years ago it was getting steadily worse. In high school I had some friends who . . . well, I don't think they really considered me a friend. I could list dozens of tiny little things that by themselves mean nothing but put together seem to create an ominous pattern - but that would sound melodramatic and to be honest I only remember specifics for a few things and that I saw the pattern a few years after graduating. And the whole situation can really be summed up pretty easily with one story. Our senior year two friends decided to start writing a book together. It got passed around among all of us as they wrote, and it was really funny. It had a ginormous cast - the large group of drama and marching band nerds that hung out together - and we were all secret agents from various countries and all after the same thing. I don't remember at all what it was, but honestly it was pretty irrelevant. The story was mostly about our character versions interacting with each other and inside jokes and that sort of thing. And then came the day that someone asked where these two got the idea in the first place.

"We wanted to kill Lacey."

The very end of the story, which they never reached (to my knowledge), was going to be a fiery plane crash that took out my character, completely bumbling, inept, and never getting a single thing right, and another friend's, the competent spy whose sole assignment was following my character around and cleaning up after "me."

Okay, I will admit that I have my blonde moments - but who doesn't? And that I did sometimes play up the ditz in an unsuccessful attempt to get the attention of . . . well, to be honest, any guy. But on the other hand, I took honors chemistry and managed a decent grade. I took four years of French. I did concurrent enrollment for college level English classes and I aced them. While other people's characters were pretty true to their real life counterparts, mine . . . wasn't. Rather, it magnified all my negative qualities while essentially eliminating any redeeming ones.

The two girls writing the story and some - but not all, thank heaven! - of the other readers found both my characterization and the inspiration for the story hilarious. I told myself it was a joke and all meant in fun, and smiled and laughed when it came up in conversation. I think I may have even believed it sort of, because I spent most of my time in college as the quiet one in the corner, more welcome and more liked than I would realize until it was all over out of fear that I would do something that made my new friends want to kill me too, even if it was only literary. I slowly realized that the story was not really friend behavior, and was able to open up a bit my senior year of college and then a bit more in Florida.

I don't think it's melodramatic to say that I carry what happened in high school with me to this day. Just a little bit. I don't think about it often, but occasionally something will happen that leaves me certain that I'm secretly hated by the people I'm with, and that they're just wishing I would go away. I'm pretty sure I'm just imagining/misinterpreting things, but there's no escaping the way your past colors your present, so I just do my best to work through my personal crazy. And trying to focus on that this year . . . I may not be the best of judges, but I think I've made some progress. And progress is always good.

Best part? This is totally the kind of resolution that's never done, so you can reuse it every year. Woo hoo! :-) However, in the name of variety, I'm thinking I'll start this too. Should be fun . . . eventually!

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How crazy awesome is this?!

That's Good to Know. Blast!

Have you ever seen one of those Random Weird Disorder commercials, and as they're listing off all these symptoms that seem like they go with pretty much everything found yourself thinking, "hey, that sounds kind of like me?"

I haven't.

Have you ever noticed that you can self diagnose practically everything except maybe cancer with internet tests these days?

That one . . . I have.

A few weeks ago, for a variety of reason, I found myself looking into Social Anxiety Disorder self tests. They all had those scoring systems where 1-5 or whatever was normal and 6-10 is a little wacko and 11-15 means you may as well just have yourself committed already - you know?

I took four. All four scores were off the charts high.

Blargh.

Okay, so all the sites made it clear that even the most astronomical score is not actually a diagnosis (just an indicator that you really need to go get an official one), and they didn't tell me anything I didn't already kind of know, and I really don't want to start using this "diagnosis" as a crutch or anything (and please, smack me thoroughly upside the head if I do!) . . . but still. Semi-officially becoming a head case? Sigh.

I really have thought there must be something like this going on in my head for a while. The mere idea of doing anything unfamiliar or meeting anyone new is almost cripplingly terrifying. I like to think no one would ever guess, because I've gotten really good at faking my way with people/things until I'm comfortable with them. Actually, the only thing I've never been able to fake my way through is talking in church, which tends to bring on mild panic attacks.

I've always been what one would clinically call Super-Duper-Really-Really-Very-Much-Ultra-Shy. (official term right there, lol) I have a very vague memory of being five or six and at my grandparents' house in New Mexico. My uncle (the one closer to my mom's age, not mine) came over so I was hiding in a bedroom . . . because for some reason I was a little afraid of him when I was a kid. No idea why whatsoever - I just was. I don't remember the whole situation . . . just my mother insisting I come out and say hello . . . to the point that she was dragging me down the hall and grandma's little blue hat thing got knocked off the wall and I got plopped in a chair across the table from him and couldn't lift my eyes out of my lap. I wish I could remember more details, but that's it.

That kind of sums up how I've always been when things are unfamiliar. I freeze up, clam up, and try to sneak out. Unless, you know, I'm at work or something. Dude, my first couple of months at Disney were a bit like torture - it's a good thing I started out at Honey, where I didn't have to actually talk to anyone most of the time! And of course it only intensifies my hopes of going back to Ellis next month. Now that I'm pretty comfortable there it would be awful to have to start over again.

Honestly, this doesn't change anything much. I guess it's nice to have a name for my personal version of nutjob, but it's not like I'm going to be going to therapy or trying to get on some medication or something. It's manageable, just frustrating. And I can't decide if I should feel differently now. Should knowing what it's called make me more shy? Less? Is blogging about it going to make other people look at me differently? Treat me like a weirdo - or invalid?! I've mentioned once or twice that I had some "friends" in high school who were anything but . . . did that influence my condition? How much? We could never in a million years afford all the shrink appointments it would take to sort me out . . . so I guess it's a good thing I don't mind being a bit tangled. I think I might even like it. At the very least it makes me more human, right?

I keep telling myself that everyone has something wrong - or at least not quite right - about them, and at least I'm not, like, a pyro or klepto or something like that. And there's always that cliched old story about trading your burdens in for new ones and how everyone chooses to keep their own because it's the smallest cross or whatever . . . I better stop now before I start monstrously mangling metaphors.

On the plus-slash-probably-inappropriate side: does this mean I can finally voice all the opinions about those commercial drugs that I've never dared before? Because seriously, some of those side effects strike me as worse than the problem they're supposed to be treating. I mean, how desperate do you have to be to take something when the side effects include DEATH? It's like, "hey, you might die from taking this, but at least your legs won't itch when you go!" I'm sure it's a terribly unpleasant condition and I wouldn't wish it on anybody . . . but I think I'd take the itchy legs!

And on that slightly morbid attempt at humor . . .

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Happy Excuse to Shoot Off Fireworks Day! If you got yours in Wyoming . . . make sure you don't do this. (rated PG13 for "brief strong language" if you care about that sort of thing.)

27

Day 27 ~ Your day job vs. your passion

This is going to sound pathetic with such an apparently easy topic, but I really don't know anymore.

It used to be so obvious - I've wanted to be a writer ever since I can remember. I've always loved making up stories. I spent a lot of time in high school (time that often should have been spent on homework) writing stories . . . most of them bad, some of them intentionally so trying to be funny. In college I was always writing - of course, I was also always taking writing classes. But it was so awesome to be getting constant feedback from such a variety of people, and that made it truly enjoyable (mostly) even though it was assigned.

I honestly intended to keep writing when I went to Florida, but it just didn't happen. Working for Disney just isn't the type of job that lets you write on the side. Especially as a CP, which everyone acknowledges as merely a slight step up from slave labor, by the time I got home I was usually just too tired to do anything other than veg out in front of the tv or sleep. In the first few months particularly, I generally spent one of my days off lying on the couch with my feet elevated because I was pretty sure my legs were going to fall off. Needless to say, it was a vey physically demanding job and I just had no energy left for mental work.

Since leaving, I've tried. Particularly last summer - I spent a lot of time trying to get a couple of ideas I had going. I just couldn't do it. And I don't know if I've just got the most epic case of writer's block ever, or if what I took for a real passion and dream job was actually just a longer-lasting-than-usual passing fancy that finally exhausted itself.

As far as my day job goes - I love it (as I should hope you've all guessed). And while I have said a few times that it has also been proof that I was right not to become a teacher, I am fervently hoping and praying that I'll get it back in a few more weeks (seriously, where is summer going?!) because if I don't I really don't know what I'll do.

I guess part of the problem is that neither Luke nor I are very ambitious people career wise. Neither of us are interested in "climbing the corporate ladder" as they say (me especially after watching my dad's career!!) or being some super important person where we work. We'd rather make a life than a living. In fact, Luke's perfectly content to stay at Convergys as long as it keeps covering our bills. All we want is enough to pay for what we need and every now and again splurge a little, whether it's a new book once in a while or a big(ish) vacation every once in a greater while. Sometimes we both get the feeling that there's something wrong with us . . . that we're not "normal" because we don't want a lot of flashy stuff and important sounding jobs to show off to people. And then I feel guilty about not being so passionate about writing anymore, like I'm wasting . . . something. And then I try again, and I feel even more frustrated when the words that used to flow so naturally just won't come. It's really a rather depressing cycle.

So for now, I guess I'll just stick to my day job - assuming I still have one.

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Wow, that was kind of a downer, wasn't it? Good thing Super Grover can always cheer things up! "It is not nice to confuse a super hero" . . . HAHAHA!!

25

Day 25 ~ What you would find in my bag.

I switch purses a lot, so I try to keep it pretty basic:

wallet

cute little mini-wallet that holds all our frequent visitor cards to pretty much every place to eat in town

hand sanitizer (a different one in each purse both for variety and just in case I forget to switch that over)

lotion

a pen (usually)

my keys

previous grocery lists and receipts squished down to the bottom because I just kinda shove them in walking away from the register and then clean them all out every couple of weeks when they make it hard to put anything else in there

and . . . .


actually, that's generally pretty much it. I try to travel light.


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This? Is just plain impressive. I can't even imagine how much practice it took to get to the perfect!

22

Day 22 ~ What makes you different from everyone else.

Ummmmmm . . . no idea. I mean, the mere fact that I have that second X chromosome makes me quite fundamentally different than about half the population.

The blonde hair differentiates. The complete mathematical ineptitude beyond basic arithmetic. The questionable decisions to major in English and French. The (sort of) cello playing. The lack of crafty abilities. The bookworm-ish-ness. The I-shouldn't-spend-half-as-much-time-as-I-do-online-ness. The innate ability to mess up the simplest of tasks. The utter lack of any athletic ability whatsoever (unless dropping 2x4s on your head counts).

I suppose no one else has precisely these traits in precisely the combination of intensity that I do. But I look at them, and I don't see anything standing out. Maybe everyone doesn't play the cello, but musical dabbling is pretty common, you know? Lots of people are bad at math. And while we may be the rare double-recessive gene holders, blondes are not dying out (no matter what you've heard).

So I think I'll open it up to people with a better view - you tell me? What makes me different? Because I? Feel pathetically average.

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Excuse me while I die laughing.

18

Day 18 ~ Plans/dreams/goals you have

Okay, ummm, kinda not sure how this is different from the bucket list. Any ideas? No? Maybe because it's not really different? Yeah, let's go with that. So . . . one of each . . . I guess . . .

Plan:
Keep living. Until I, you know, die.

Dream:
Travel. A lot. A whole butt-load of lot.

Goal:
Enjoy plans and dreams.

There. That was easy. :-)

But seriously - how is this different? I don't feel so bad for all the cheating I've been doing now because whoever made this up totally cheated.

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Someday these guys will be the winners of the Most Epic Darwin Award Ever. And I will laugh.

17

Day 17 ~ Someone you would want to switch lives with for one day and why.


Ummm, duh, the Duchess of Cambridge! And that's all I'm going to say about that because either you know the rest already or you are really new around here.

Alternately - Amy Adams. Except I'd be the still Mormon version of Amy Adams. (seriously - her family lives in Idaho! How's that for random?) Because I'm pretty convinced that she actually is Giselle incarnate. Seriously . . . every time I see her, whether acting or as herself that is EXACTLY how she is. Remember this trailer? Ten bucks says she's not actually acting. Because she doesn't have to. Because she's awesome like that.

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Speaking of the Muppets, the "real" trailer is finally out. Count down until November begins . . . NOW! :-)

15

Day 15 ~ Put your ipod on shuffle, first 10 songs that play

Having already done this, let's go genre specific. So I have closed my eyes and randomly pointed at the screen . . . and discovered that doesn't work since it's a big screen and the category lists are kinda small and just on the side. So I kinda cheated, by making my other hand a barrier blocking in only the music lists, closed my eyes again and landed on . . . Recently Played! Ummmm . . . LAME! So we're going with pop.

Note: this is a generic name for the category, as any song roughly my age or newer that is not country or instrumental. Although there are some classics in there from before the 80s.


1. Come What May from Moulin Rouge
Awwwww, sweet song (and EWAN MCGREGOR! YUM!)
(random search and the first one that pops up has French subtitles? Sweet!)





2. Waterloo by ABBA
ABBA rocks. That is all.




3. Billie Jean by Michael Jackson
Isn't America great? I mean, where else can a poor black boy grow up to be a rich white woman?




4. Because of You by Kelly Clarkson
Love the solo version, love the duet, and this video . . . dude . . .




5. Walk this Way by Aerosmith
Speaking of duets - absolutely cannot decide what I think of this one.




6. Footloose
Ahh, memories . . . like the fact that mom didn't have a problem with us singing along with "Dancing in the Sheets." That particular memory is a little disturbing now, actually.




7. Stop in the Name of Love by The Supremes
True story: in high school there was an annual lip sync contest. My sophomore year three of my friends did this song . . . three of my male friends. Awesomely hysterical, hysterically awesome - for eleven years now (oy!) I have not been able to hear this song without thinking of them. Sadly, I do not have video footage of that particular rendition to show you. (Justin (I mean Ms. Ross)? Kate? Surely you know where to dig it up?!)




8. Truly Madly Deeply by Savage Garden
Wasn't this just the most romantic song EVER back in the day? :-)




9. Smooth Ciminal by Michael Jackson
Okay, I've skipped, like, three other Michael Jackson songs already going for a little bit of variety. Clearly itunes is just in one of its moods or something. But there's no denying that this video is awesome. Weird . . . but awesome.




10. Baby One More Time by Britney Spears
Apparently itunes is also in a vaguely old school mood today. This song probably topped the not allowed list at our house . . . however mom couldn't exactly control what got played at dances and the like . . . and this was also about the time she came home singing Backstreet Boys (who were also banned) so the not allowed list kind of died.





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I feel a little guilty for loving this show. But it's so awesome.

8

Day 8 ~ Short term goals for this month and why.

Short term goals, short list. This one shall be quick.

1 - Get back into the whole Wii Fitting thing. I kinda gave it up during the school year because, really, who wants to come home from work and get all sweaty and gross and have to take a second shower in one day and if you're going out again having to do the whole makeup/get ready to go thing a second time and . . . yeah, not interested. I told myself I had a fairly active job (while not nearly as active as working at Disney, it is compared to most jobs) and just let it go. But now I'm ready to get going again. One hour a day last week, two hours this week, and we'll just keep going from there. Hopefully this summer is as self-esteem boosting as last summer.

2 - Sort of on that note - not forgetting my New Year's not-Resolution. (admit it: all'a y'all have totally forgotten yours, lol) I haven't really . . . but I think I could be doing better.

3 - Keep on track/get ahead with my 150 book goal. Yeah, that one. >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
I'm sure I've read that many books in a year before . . . but now I will know it for sure. The moment when I finish that 150th book? Will. Be. Epic.

4 - No sunburns. I should hope that's self-explanatory. We now live right next to the zoo and the pool, so there will be ample opportunity to put this one to the test this summer.

(5) - Come up with more specific goals. In parenthesis because it's probably not going to happen per se. I'm more of a deadline setter than a goal setter. As in "I will finish the hippo baby bib by this day because the next day is Leza's baby shower is the next day." (for the record they were done well in advance . . . mostly because I was paranoid they wouldn't be!) Do those count as goals? I'm totally counting them.

And that is all.


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No particular reason. Except this song cracks me up. Every time. Sometimes I listen to the entire soundtrack (which is awesome) just because this song is so much better in context. Also: after watching this clip I want to see this number done with everyone wearing hats once worn by Princess Beatrice.

6

Day 6 ~ Your favorite superhero and why.

You know, Shayla is a hardcore Superman girl. She even has a tshirt that says "I <3 Nerds" and over the heart is Clark Kent pulling his shirt open to reveal the his super suit underneath.

Me? Not so much. I've never really been in to the whole superhero thing. No, my fictional heros have always tended toward the more literary side. I have kind of a lot . . . here's a few:

(note: if you don't recognize any of these characters, please don't tell me so I don't have to judge you. because I am totally going on the assumption that you are all as well educated as I think you are and not giving their sources.)

Elizabeth Bennett. For all the obvious reasons. Yes, I can be cliche sometimes. (keep that in mind going forward . . .)

Anne Shirley. Again, the reasons are probably pretty obvious. I still kinda want to be her. Well, the blonde version, I guess.

Hermione Granger. Because I kinda was her, kinda wanted to be her.

Hester Prynne. Not, perhaps, quite so obvious. But aside from the obvious, she really is a very strong character and good role model for those who can see what is admirable in her.

Katie Scarlett O'Hara Hamilton Kennedy Butler. (that was probably a little show off-y, wasn't it? a bit of overkill? oh well.) I know most people have nothing good to say about her, but I kind of adore her. I mean, think about it. Here is a girl who epitomizes the spoiled, pampered princess who is raised to believe she will never have to lift a finger in her entire life. And then her world is turned completely upside-down and she's forced to grow up pretty freaking quickly. So the experience didn't leave her much like Melanie (whom I also adore, btw) but she did what she had to do. She was personally responsible for keeping a dozen people from starving to death at one point for crying out loud! Her methods are most certainly questionable, her motives cloudy, but her determination and motivation are utterly admirable.

Catherine Earnshaw. Totally admire her passion.

Winnie Foster. Girlfriend's got guts. On multiple levels.

Mina Harker. If those Y-chromosome bearing idiots hadn't been so focused on protecting her and actually let her help things would have been taken care of lots quicker. Stupid boys.

Tess Durbeyfield. Talk about enduring to the end!! I would love to have HALF her inner strength for coping with endless crap.

Katniss Everdeen. Ummmmmmmm . . . duh!!!!

There are more. But I get the feeling I'm boring you so . . . peace out . . . or something . . .

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Luke is looking forward to experimenting (his word, not mine) in a like manner some day with all manner of random experiments. Worry not, my minions, I shall be manning the camera.

(note to self: get minions so that makes sense.)

3

Day 3 ~ A picture of you as a child.

This may sound a bit conceited, but I was a cute kid. Now if I could just figure out what happened . . .

Anyway. I. Was. Cute. And right now I'm bored . . . so you get more than one. Yay!





What did I tell you? :-)

I was also a bit of a daddy's girl . . . well, more like an everybody's girl, being the only grandchild for nearly two years. I'm told I had a pretty good gig going . . . until those meddling other kids spoiled it, lol.




Exhibit A as to why I wish we still wore hats on fancy occasions. We always wore hats to church on Easter Sunday - some years we even got gloves! It felt so elegant and grown-up-ish . . . seriously - why don't people wear hats anymore, dangit?!?!?!

Anyway . . . that's me. And if you just can't get enough of my adorability, there are plenty more pictures from back in the day on my facebook page. (you may also spot some other familiar faces. good times, heehee)




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K, so heaven knows I'm no trekkie, but this is kind of awesome. And to quote an even more awesome former Hamilton Hamilton roommate, "Patrick Stewart is, like, the ultimate man."
Also: while Luke and I have had our disagreement over it, I still maintain that toward the end he is saying "I am as cute as a boar. You are bored."
Also also: Wesley Crusher may have been my first character crush waaaay back in the day.

2

Day 2 ~ The meaning behind your blog name.

Ummmmmm . . . which name do they mean? The name of the blog or the name you post under? Whatever, you get both.

Veriladaine - Comes from a book . . . sort of. My senior year of high school I was introduced to a great new author - Tamora Pierce. She writes fun, highly enjoyable YA fantasies, and I spent a good chunk of the year devouring her books. The next year at college I joined the forums at starwars.com - because I was 1) that much of a loner and 2) that much of a geek - and after trying a few other screen names that were taken I remembered there was this one character named Veralidaine and I thought it was a cool name (note: not one I would ever saddle a poor unfortunate actual child with, but a great name for a fantasy book) so I used it. Except . . . you may have noticed a slight difference in spelling. I couldn't remember quite how to spell it and got it kind of wrong. I was seriously kicking myself . . . but let's be honest - NOBODY is going to notice that I flipped a couple of letters. Am I right, or am I right? Plus, this since it is misspelled that's, like, an instant guarantee that no one else will be using it, so I use it in a few places online. Not all of them . . . not even a lot of them anymore. But some.

L.Jo - Senior year again. One of my classes was Stage Tech. Officially we were supposed to be learning about how things like the sound systems and light systems work and stuff like that. Honestly, I have no idea who thought that the people signing up for that class would do so to learn those things - every last one of us were already techies to some degree and knew everything that was described in the course description. So the class was actually more like "hang out with your friends whilst building set pieces for upcoming productions 101" because that's all we did. Not that we didn't work hard - that was the year we did Joseph, and we all kept a spare set of clothes in the dressing rooms and my pants came to be known as Lacey's Amazing Technicolor Dream Jeans. Because, well, . . . they were. Very worn, and very multicolored by the end of the trimester. Anyway, one day we were painting our paper mache rocks for the Shakespeare competition and for some reason one of the guys decided he wanted to know everyone's middle name. He started by trying to guess, and when he got around the circle to me he guessed Lacey Jo. Which is wrong, but when I told him that he said he liked the sound of Lacey Jo better, so that was my name now. And proceeded to call me that for the rest of the year, which was fine by me. A few of my other friends picked it up too, and it was nice - made me feel almost popular or something - especially considering the only other nickname I'd ever had was Spacey Lacey, bestowed on me by an uncle when I was a baby.

Anyway . . . flash forward to freshman year of college again. Instant messaging - or IMing, if you will - is still kind of new and therefore kind of cool so naturally I download msn messenger on my craptop. Initially my screen name there was Lacey Jo, but this was also the time that Jennifer Lopez was totally going by J.Lo and one day I had the stroke of genius to flip a couple more letters, and voila! L.Jo! And that became my screen name from then on and it got to the point that I had friends telling me they saw a headline with "J.Lo" in it and thought "L.Jo" and I felt totally famous. :-) And like Veriladaine, I still use it here and there. Obviously.

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Charlie Brown's kite has got nothing on this kid's. If I didn't know better I'd think it had some sort of vendetta against humankind . . .

1

Day 1 ~ A recent picture of you and ten facts about yourself.

Dude, talk about a tough task! Back in Florida pictures were being taken all the time . . . I was seriously changing my profile picture almost every couple of days. TONS of pictures - taken by me and by others. That? Was two and a half years ago. These days if pictures are being taken I'm generally the one behind the camera . . . kinda sad. Anyway, this is about the most recent picture I could find.
Not, perhaps, my most photogenic moment . . . but check out that cake!

Sooooooooo . . . ten facts.

1. Is it cheating to use this as one? :-)

2. I discovered back at the start of the school year that I'd forgotten my multiplication tables. I discovered that when I had to start correcting 3rd and 4th graders tables. I figured it probably wouldn't look very good if I pulled my cell phone out to check simple arithmetic problems I should have just known, so as long as they looked right I called it good. Slowly they came back to me . . . the good news is I did technically remember them, I just wasn't sure about them because it had been so long.

3. I hate driving if I'm in a place I'm not familiar with. I'm totally paranoid that I'll accidentally go the wrong way down a one way street or something.

4. The fact that we now have a washer and dryer still excites me.

5. I'm pretty sure that 95% of the people I know around my age are either engaged or pregnant. It kind of makes me feel like I'm slacking or something. :-)

6. I really want to try bungee jumping, but I'm pretty sure I would chicken out at the last minute and not do it unless either someone pushed me or we were doing a tandem jump and they jumped taking me down with them.

7. I would fly to New Zealand just to go zorbing again.

8. I have never read any of Tolkein's books . . . well, never finished. Hugo I can do, Dickens I can do . . . but Tolkein is a bit to much for me. I'll have to try again someday.

9. I get a maniacal bit of pleasure by occasionally warming up my toes on Luke's back.

10. I'm a "messy" organizer. Everything is in piles and looks totally chaotic, but I know where it all is . . . except for a few things that got misplaced somehow when we moved and I just cannot find now . . . blargh.

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I want one of these blenders. However . . . I get the feeling that would be a bad idea. I'd be too tempted to see what crazy things I could put in it!!

What Are You Waiting For?

So the end of the year is coming, and I'm facing the reality of how obvious it will become that other than work, church, and errands, I generally only leave the house for purposes of socializing once a month. Not so noticeable when you're leaving every day, but last summer there were a handful of weeks that I didn't leave once between two weekly excursions to church. That's a little depressing.

We've been to our new ward a few times now, and I'm starting to remember a few names (working for Disney completely ruined my ability to remember names . . . stupid name tags). It's a little jarring to be in a ward with people . . . er . . . well over thirty after so many years in wards where everyone but the bishop is pretty close to my age. And I'm tolerably certain we are the only couple without kids/not expecting . . . in fact, I'm not sure yet, but it may be that every woman within ten years or so of my age either just gave birth or will this summer/fall. Seriously. It remains to be seen if anyone s going to try and make that awkward. There are a few people I like so far, at least as much as one can like a person after having a couple of brief conversations - but I have to admit, I'm worried about making friends.

I've never been very good at making friends . . . or maybe just at knowing when I have. I don't know if it stems from a couple of bad/awkward experiences in elementary school, or if those were just early evidence that I'm just wired backwards or something. But me and friends? Don't entirely go together. I spent high school mostly hanging out with people who, on looking back, really only tolerated me, while the people who I see now were "true" friends were the ones I sat with in class only if none of the "cooler" kids were in that class. I regret that now, but on the other hand I've kept more in touch with my "real" friends - whereas, while I may be facebook friends with the others . . . well, we all know what "facebook friends" means, don't we?

In college pretty much everybody in my departments was cool. Waaaaaaay to cool to want me around. At least that's how I felt. I was always so hesitant to go to any party/reading/gathering/whatever because I felt like I would be in the same situation that I was realizing I'd spent high school in. I was talking to an old college friend about it a few months ago - she said she's felt the same way! And that she's mentioned it to one of the decidedly cool kids - who said we'd always been welcome among the cool crowd. That was a bit of a shock, and I have to admit that simultaneously do and don't believe it.

That pretty much sums up my experiences and thoughts on friends, both before and since. I'm always second guessing myself.

Oh no, I must have offended everyone with that comment - that's why no one said anything.

That party invitation on the whiteboard in the break room - that's meant for everyone except me.

They're just to nice to specify. No one came to my (insert whatever here) because they actually don't like me.

It sounds ridiculous. Even while I'm thinking those sort of things I realize that. But I can't help it. I always cringe a little when people say things like "What are you waiting for, an engraved invitation?" because . . . well, I kind of am. Without one I'm probably going to think you're just trying to be nice - that it's a charity invite. Isn't it stupid? Crazy? I know!! But there you go.

So I gotta say it really made my day to get an early birthday present last week. Aren't they pretty?


And just look at the vase . . . hand blown!! I love it!!!!!

Please ignore the decidedly un-picturesque kitchen background. :-)

Just the little bit of spring color we need at our house while we wait for this rainy weather to finally go away.


I love getting flowers. Back in high school there were a couple of clubs that would sell roses for Valentine's Day as a fundraiser . . . I was always so jealous. And of course there were always the guys who's "creative dance asking" involved having flowers delivered to a girl in class. And of course there was college . . . roommates having boyfriends . . . getting flowers . . . don't even get me started on how unloved and unlovable I felt at times.

So getting flowers - heck, anything - was kind of like the ultimate acceptance from some of the few friends I've made in the last couple of years. Or one, at least. :-) I can't fathom it changing much of anything - I'll probably still second guess myself, like, all the time . . . maybe a little less. And it is nice to feel a tiny bit more sure of myself. For a little while. Until the next time someone responds a little less enthusiastically then my warped expectations convince me they should have. Good times.


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Sharing the awesomeness. Seriously, who comes up with this sort of thing?!