Friday, July 29, 2011
One of the radiology centers that we refer patients to for MRIs brought us about three pounds of strawberries this week. We picked at them for a few days and I decided to take the initiative and bring them home for jam because there is no way that they would survive the weekend. That means? Oh yes. I spent my morning making freezer jam. 4 pints of it. I may turn into my mother yet.
Sunday, July 24, 2011
Saturday, July 23, 2011
As I packed up my room/life last week I was ASTOUNDED by the number of bobby pins that I kept finding. It was nothing short of ridiculous. I have blond ones, brown ones, black ones, and...I think that's it as far as the color scheme goes. They were on my dresser, floor, bed-side table, floor, bathroom counter, FLOOR!!! I'm pretty sure that I found them on my shelf in the pantry. We're talking something upwards of 60 bobby pins here. Completely out of control. Here comes the irony of it all...tonight, while I was trying to pin my hair back, I could NOT find a SINGLE bobby pin.
Friday, July 15, 2011
This morning I noticed a chip in my front windshield. It kind of looked like the tip of a ball point pen shoved into the window. It's been rather warm for the past couple of days so I decided I should probably get it looked at before it spread. I called my insurance and scheduled an appointment to get it repaired. I took car to shop and sat down to wait for the quick repair. The technician came to the waiting room looking for me. He wanted to look at my car with me. I got out to the car and he said, "I've cleaned the windshield inside and out. I can't find what you're seeing." I looked and it was gone. Awesome. Didn't wash the car because I didn't want the rock chip to spread. Couldn't figure out it wasn't real unless I washed the car. It was a lovely Catch 22. Good news is, don't have to replace the windshield.
Wednesday, July 13, 2011
Tuesday, July 12, 2011
Remember the cough drop post? Cynical humor is one of those appropriately inappropriate ironies in life. It was vital for me on this last move. Usually I label my boxes with the exact contents of the box. Towards the end the labels got a little more...colorful? Some of my favorites were "misc. you know you're going to love it!" and "foods. lift with your knees. not with your back." As of now, I still think it's funny. I haven't unpacked yet though...
Monday, July 11, 2011
It's been a long couple of weeks. I've moved. I've helped others move. I've dejunked, sorted, cleaned, and performed more manual labor than I have in a really long time. Tonight, I mopped a floor by hand. I didn't have my lap top with me which is generally my source of noise (movies, TV, music, etc), so it was kind of a quiet night. I had A LOT of think time. Not too long ago I went on a camping trip with some of my best friends. The conversation on the way home turned to our childhood and we spent a few hours deciding whether the young versions of ourselves would have been as good friends as we are now. In the midst of my floor cleaning experience, the conversation with my brain (Yes. I do talk to myself. There is a very good reason that I don't live alone.) turned to 12-year-old Shandy. I tried to decide whether 12-year-old Shandy and 30-year-old Shandy would be friends. The sad part is, I'm not so sure that they would. At the end of my senior year of high school, Mrs Forsgren (my AP English teacher) made us promise that we wouldn't get married until we were 21 because apparently our characters were going to change a lot between 18 and 21. Hind sight has never between clearer for me. My character has changed. I have changed. 12-year-old Shandy probably wouldn't have been camping with her friends. I'm pretty sure she wouldn't mow the lawn voluntarily (yeah, that might have happened tonight too). She most definitely would not run (ask her 12-year-old soccer team). Next stop in my labor-induced nostalgia was missionary Shandy. So many times returned missionaries say it was the "best 2 years" of their lives. I won't say it was the best 18 months of my life. It was good. It was really good, but not the best. I would say that Missionary Shandy was probably closest to perfect that Shandy has ever been, but it was easy to be good like that when the gospel of Jesus Christ was the main focus in life. I decided tonight that missionary Shandy needs to be more of a presence in my life. She needs to be set up as a standard in my life to compare future Shandys to. I don't know if this makes sense to anyone besides me. It may be one of those things that only makes sense in my brain. Not going to lie...exhaustion, delirium, and nostalgia may have set in. I really need to go to bed. Sweet dreams...
Sunday, July 10, 2011
At the beginning of the summer I declared this the summer of the kabob. I have had kabobs multiple times this summer and they have been delightful. Considering it's July 10, I think it's time for a re-evaluation. This may be the summer of the house sitter. I don't know if I can even use that term, but it kind of works. Roommate got married so I stayed at her house until they get back from the honeymoon. Now, I've moved into the second friend's house until she gets back from her honeymoon...this time I'm in it for the animals. Apparently the bearded dragon, chinchilla and 10 legged tarantula type spider need some one to feed and water them. You'd think all this marriage stuff would rub off, but I don't think I'm quite that lucky. Instead, I get mosquito bites that look like tumors, visits from old friends, awesome thunderstorms (by Utah standard), parades with the nephews, fruit (of assorted varieties) and cream, and a completely unanticipated trip to NEW YORK. I feel good about that. It's been a good summer. (Even if it hasn't been anything like I planned.)
Sunday, July 3, 2011
Since I left my parents house approximately 10 years ago I have lived in 16 different places, had 37 different roommates, and that's not even counting the times I moved home or lived with the same roommate more than once. Guess what. Those numbers will be changing shortly. I can't even commit to a place to live.