Dear Abby,

It can be excruciating!, lying there in bed, knowing you have the answer to someone's problem but not being allowed to share it.

I'm sorry if this sounds arrogant.  I don't want it to, it's just how I feel sometimes.

...but sometimes being perceptive and wise can be hard.
(Hey, [several of] you called me that first, not me.)

That's why I blog - sometimes, anyway.  So I can generalize my advice and share it with the world.  because sometimes that takes away the excruciating-ness of not being able to say it to who I think should hear it.  (And I allow myself to believe that maybe they read it and, without knowing I'm talking to them, take my words to heart.:)  

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Stories give you a way to see things.  A way to understand the events of your life.

Even if you don't realize it while you're hearing the tale.

Icefall

the mood rings, the bracelets and the beads

This is our song. :)

(minus all the parts about breaking up and being wrong for each other, which I just realized today is most of it)

It came on the radio yesterday, and I kept thinking about how perfect it is for us -
a "love" song with just enough "don't take yourself too seriously" mixed in. :)

That is us.
I mean,
my favorite engagement picture was a High School Musical jump on a trampoline.
What says "love and committed without taking yourself too seriously" more than that?

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“Oh, there you are, Albus,” [Slughorn] said.  “You’ve been a very long time.  Upset stomach?”

“No, I was merely reading the Muggle magazines,” said Dumbledore.  “I do love knitting patterns.”

Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince

confessional

I was looking at a blog the other night.  On the right sidebar, there was a little "about the blogger" box.  I started reading it and then thought, "No way could all this be about one person.  And why would she include that in her 'about me'?"  Scrolled to the top of the box, and it was labeled "The Confessional."

Ahh.  People can write in their secrets.

I was intrigued, so I started reading... for about 30 seconds.

YOU GUYS.  As I closed out the tab, my mind was full of the thought, "Man, everyone in the world is living a really crappy life."  The fact that my mind chose the word "crappy" is how you know how intense I was feeling - I never use that word.

My mind stayed that way for a full minute before I thought, "HELLO.  Not everyone has a crappy life, obviously.  You don't.  It's just that the people with happy confessionals aren't confessing them here.  This confessional is full of people who have created crazy problems with their own bad choices."

So, please.  I'm opening this up to the whole world.  Let's show the world that there are happy  (or at least non-depressing) confessions, too!  What are some of yours?

I felt like denying Cocoa Pebbles to my daughter at breakfast time yesterday because there was only enough for one more person and I wanted them.  But I was the bigger person and let her have them.

I don't care for Alex Boyé or Lindsey Stirling.  I feel like, as a Mormon, I'm supposed to love them?  but I don't really.

I have a week overdue library book sitting on my computer desk.  I think I just don't want to give it back?  I should buy a copy.  (It's called Savvy, for those of you looking for a good one.)

When I'm sick or my husband's out of town, I sleep with the teddy bear I received as a baby.  When I'm feeling particularly crummy, I wind up the lullaby in its back.

I have - in the past - gone months without cleaning the master bathroom.  My justification is that only two people use it, and then only once each in the morning/evening.

I have way too many under-my-jaw hairs.  Did my hormones get a jump when I turned 25 or does plucking make more grow?  [I know the answer.]

My toenail polish is usually all worn off except on the big toes.

My brain releases a TON of endorphins when I'm buying organizational boxes / drawers and first using them.

My favorite part of sending my missionary sister letters is including "Psych" quotes at the end.

I usually think I'm right.  I HATE when people try to convince me out of my obviously correct opinions.

I can't get an eyelash curler to work right.

but I rock at liquid eyeliner.  Except then it's itchy and I usually end up rubbing it off by accident.

I hate 80% of my husband's taste in music.

I'm [not purposely] really bad at borrowing stuff.  As in, if you're missing anything, maybe you loaned it to me two years ago.

I judge your grammar.

I hate hashtags, but I thought about suggesting #happyconfession if you chose to post something like this on social media.  You have no idea how embarrassed I am to admit that.  Plus, they're not all happy, so is #happyconfession really the best?  But #non-depressingconfession is so long.  #ndc?  But it's not self-explanatory.  This is why I'm embarrassed, people.

I don't take off my makeup at night.  I know, I know, my eyelashes hate me for it.

I'm more obsessed with Harry Potter and High School Musical than you even know.

Also, Oprah.

Was that too many?

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And Percy was shaking his brother, and Ron was kneeling beside them, and Fred’s eyes stared without seeing,

the ghost of his last laugh still etched upon his face.

Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows

nighttime musings

Sometimes I can't sleep because I can't get my mind to stop thinking.  It usually doesn't stop until I get whatever's filling up my brain out - often through writing.  Once they're out, I can sleep.  Thus, nighttime musings.  :)  These thoughts were triggered by conversations I've been part of lately. 



Isn't it interesting how we look at people who have qualities or traits we want, and assume they're happy because they have those traits?

The average or overweight woman sees a naturally thin woman, and thinks [if only subconsciously] that woman believes she has a perfect body.

The shy woman sees a woman speaking confidently in front of a crowd, and thinks that woman has never had trouble making friends.

Did you know that the thin woman, too, has to feel good about how she looks before she goes shopping for clothes?  ("But doesn't she always feel good?" we think.  "She has the perfect body.")

To you she does.

Did you know the woman you see speaking confidently can only do so in front of crowds?  Put her one-on-one and she clams up.  How many friends have you made from in front of a crowd?

Remember -

Just because she fits your picture of perfect doesn't mean she fits hers.  How often do we remember that we are all here fighting similar fights?

But also.  Does it ever make you wonder if you are someone else's picture of perfect?

Does that thought make you realize you're better than you sometimes remember,  and that you're doing pretty alright?

I hope so.

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“Quite honestly,” he turned away from the painted portraits, thinking now only of the four-poster bed lying waiting for him in Gryffindor Tower, and wondering whether Kreacher might bring him a sandwich there, “I’ve had enough trouble for a lifetime.”

Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows

Half birthdays are fun. :)

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“Hang on a moment!” said Ron sharply. “We’ve forgotten…the house-elves!  We should tell them to get out.  We don’t want any more Dobbies, do we?  We can’t order them to die for us - "  There was a clatter as the basilisk fangs cascaded out of Hermione’s arms.  Running at Ron, she flung them around his neck and kissed him full on the mouth.

Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows

Gaston, may I have my book back please?

As I was catching up on a couple blogs last night, I read a post whose author is trying to read more.  She ended the post with this statement: "I always have good intentions when I buy a book." 

WHAT?
When I buy a book, good luck getting me to do anything BUT read it.
That's why I don't buy books as often as I want to.
(That, and I'm a sucker for new [not used] books, and new books are expensive.)

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“Do not pity the dead, Harry.  Pity the living, and, above all, those who live without love.”

Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows

because you asked: in stitches

(this post written last Monday)

I got stitches today.  WHAT?!   It doesn't seem real yet.  Stitches seem like something monumental or that you plan for (even though I know they're not).  Here's what happened... 

Alright, that pizza dough will be ready to bake right after piano lessons.  Nice!  I'm excited for that.  Ok, it's 3:25.  They'll be here really soon!  I should move these stacks of tile so they have a way to get into the piano room.  Oh, these are a little heavier than I thought.  Woah, especially that pile.  I'll just put it down so I can take them a couple at a -- "OUCH!"  [Looks down]  Oh my gosh, my hand is *covered* in blood.  I'm going to get it all over the carpet!  [jolt]  Hellooo.  It's not on the carpet yet!  Just use your other hand to hold it and go wash it off.  [So I did.]  [Wash hand in sink.  Take hand out of water.  It immediately is covered in blood again.  The doorbell rings.]  What should I hold this with?  I don't want to ruin the - oh well, it's just a towel.  "Oh, hi!  How am I?  Actually, I just cut myself really bad.  Can I have a minute?"  I tried to get a bandaid and Piano Lesson helped me put it on.  Four seconds later... "Maybe you should just keep using the towel because you're already dripping through the bandaid."  "Oh, sorry...  Oh my gosh, I hope I didn't drip on her!  Do you mind if we don't do piano today?  I don't think I could concentrate."  I then went into shock, suddenly feeling freezing cold, covered in sweat, and holding back vomit.

She left and I called Joel.  "Do you need me to come home?"  "I don't know. but I can't make dinner tonight."

Kids: "Have they come yet?  Can we have our popcorn?"  Me: "I will come downstairs and watch the movie with you, but please don't talk to or play with me."  

Then I called Dad, holding back tears because I was starting to visualize how bad it was, and asked what to do.  "How long has it been bleeding?"  "What time is it?"  "Quarter til the hour."  "Ok, then 15 minutes."  "You should call Joel and have him come home and take you to the doctor."  My dad is amazing, by the way, and always makes me feel better in these kinds of situations.  He is so calm and knows everything.

"Joel?  I called my dad and he says you need to come home."  And Joel immediately left work.

I sat by the Lovesac putting pressure on my finger, clenching my teeth and occasionally moaning when the pain got awful.  Accidentally raised my voice once at Child A when I'd found a comfy position resting on the Lovesac and he decided to use that moment to jump on it.

Joel got home.  We went in the bathroom to check and see if it was still bleeding.  It was.  35 minutes.  We called a friend, who rushed over and ran in.  I am so thankful for her.  We left and were checked in at the Instacare by someone much more concerned with the person on the telephone, and proceeded to wait in the waiting room.  65 minutes.  Teeth were clenching so hard.  Joel was trying his best to distract me with conversation.  "I'm sorry, I'm trying - I'm just not a conversationalist."  We were called back!  His name was Dr. Totem-bootie.  (That's just how it sounded, I'm sure.:)  Blood pressure and weight taken.  My BP is really good! especially considering the circumstances.  The nurse took off the towel - "Oh yeah, this needs stitches."  Great.  She washed it and numbed me up.  The numbing shots stunk!  Because of the location of the cut, the needle kind of had to be parallel to my finger.  If you've never had a shot like that in your finger, pray you never do.  Especially not a million so the numbing medicine is everywhere.  On the plus side, man! that stuff works!  It is amazing that a doctor can sew you up without you feeling a thing.  "All done! Look!"  Why in the world did you tell me to look at THAT when you knew I was consciously not watching you work?  That is DISGUSTING.  So I looked away.

Tetanus shot = easiest thing ever.  (and not just comparatively speaking)  She washed my finger again, bandaged me up huge with a lot of absorber pads because I was bleeding again, and we were done!  Not quite painless, but it sure was quick and relatively easy. 

Awards go to Joel, Friend, and my dad, for making the night infinitely better than it could've been.  Also, to Panda Express for our dinner, and the kids, for being really good while it mattered.  Other thankfuls: 1) My finger is not missing.  2) It was me and not the kids.  

Now, when to bake the pizza dough that's been rising for hours....

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“I’ll distract them all,” Luna said.  “Use your cloak.”

Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows