Suits Me, Suits Me Not

Amazon is alway advertising t-shirts to me, and sometimes I can’t help but scroll through them. A few days ago, I went down the t-shirt rabbit hole a bit, and while doing so, I was mentally labeling them “shirts that suit me” and “shirts that don’t.” Most shirts fall in the middle, and I’m entirely indifferent toward them, but there are a few that are so me and a few that are so not me. 

A few examples…

Does not suit me: any message that has to do with sleeping late or staying up all night

I’m a morning person, which is a strange lifestyle according to most people I associate with, so I can never wear a shirt that lies about my relationship with sleep.

Suits me: mourning Pluto’s status as a planet

I shouldn’t care, but for some reason, I’m among those who are truly sad that Pluto isn’t considered a planet anymore. It’s hard when something you’ve been taught your whole life ceases to be true. Just last week I was reading a book about the planets to Zoe and Eva, and the book had a whole spiel about how Pluto used to be considered a planet, and now it’s not. I explained to Zoe and Eva that when I was a kid, Pluto was a planet, and they were like “Whoa! You must be really old.”

Speaking of which…

Suits me: old people jokes

There are a select few age-related comments on t-shirts that really reach my soul - this being one of them. When I was a teenager, I thought people in their late 30’s/early 40’s were so old. There really was no difference to me between a 38-year-old and a 78-year-old. They were all the same.

Does not suit me: “whoop there it is”

It’s whoomp. WHOOMP! 

Suits me: no comment

Doesn’t suit me: shirts that say I’m cold

Being cold is rarely an issue for me. Based on the amount of sweat running down my back at church every week, a more appropriate graphic would read, “Hottest Woman in the Ward.”

Suits me: no comment (again)

Suits me: blunt and humorous

Sometimes you just need to tell it like it is.

Signs I'm Almost 40

The other day I caught a glimpse of a reel on Facebook with a girl defending herself for doing her hair and make-up to go to the gym. She was like, “I deserve to feel good about myself!”

My thoughts were, “I’m so glad I don’t care!” Because when I go to the gym, sure… it would be great to look fabulous in some cute clothes with my hair and make-up just so, but here’s the fact: I’m gonna walk out of there smelling like the small animal building at Hogle Zoo and soaked in boob sweat. I’m not there to be pretty. I’m there to be gross. I don’t want to waste time and money on hair and make-up for the gym! 

My clothing of choice is stretchy pants and gigantic t-shirts. I used to buy cute workout clothes (and maybe someday I will again), but right now my only criteria is that the clothes keep my butt crack and my belly covered, and that my bottoms have a pocket. Fortunately, most of the people at the gym I go to are of the same mentality. They are there just trying to do some good for their bodies. We are united in our grossness, save for a few anomalies. 

Now that I'm going to the gym regularly again (a lifestyle I used to live until I went back to school and had Eva), there are a couple of things I needed to invest in. 

First, a sports bra. 

I have a few oldies in my drawer, but I don't want to deal with them because A) they have removable padding, which has no practical purpose in my mind. Removable padding just means the pads fall out all the time, and I have to put them back in, and then they get all shifty and give me Lumpy Boob and B) I hate putting bras on over my head, so I keep wearing my regular bra, which is not ideal for certain movements. 

Clearly, I'm lazy, and I need a sports bra for lazy girls. So I went and found one that has built-in padding and that zips in the front. 

Second, some big, ole granny panties. 

I wear religious underclothing (read more about that HERE), every day with very few exceptions. I've been wearing my religious underclothing (which we usually refer to as "garments") to the gym - this is something that the wearer can make a personal choice about. I can't claim I wear them based on any degree of righteousness, though. I'm not of the mentality that we should wear them when we work out (like I said - it's a personal choice), I'm simply too lazy to take them off and put them back on after I work out. So once again, my motive is laziness. BUT... since my grand return to the gym, I have destroyed three pairs of garments from thigh rubbing. Thus my need for some new Underwear of the World. 

So I went to Costco, and I bought the biggest, most covering underwear they had. We're talking full butt cheek embracing, belly button high underwear. 

And friends?

I put those things on for the first time, and I saw myself in the mirror, and I thought, "Wow! These are surprisingly sexy!"

And that is the ultimate evidence that I am almost 40. 

A Greater Liking

September Writing Challenge - Prompt #16:

Preference

We all have preferences - a greater liking of one thing over another. In most cases, I don’t dislike the alternative, I just have a preference when given a choice. Keep that in mind because I’m about to tell you some of my personal preferences, and I don’t want you to feel like I’m insulting your preferences if yours are different. I’ve been a little sensitive about that lately, as I feel like I can’t say I like something without hearing about why someone else doesn’t like that thing. I’m trying to be less of a contributor to such conversations, and yet, here I go with a list of my own preferences:

I prefer thin slices of pizza. Whenever I'm taking a piece of pizza, I always go for the narrowest one. I think they're easier to eat, and if there are multiple kinds of pizza, thinner slices allow me to enjoy more variety before I'm full. Whenever we have Papa Murphy's, I always cut the pieces really narrow. When we have pre-cut pizza, like Little Caesar's, I will very often cut the pieces in half.

I prefer to only take carry-ons when we fly. We’ve been on week-long cruises and ten-day vacations and have never checked luggage. 

I prefer weather between 45-65 degrees. I'm in my happy place when there's a slight chill in the air, and I have no problem being outside in 45 degrees (unless it's windy or raining). 

You will never see me in a shirt like this

I prefer watching everything with subtitles. I love going to captioned movies at the theater - a rare treat! 

I prefer hot food to be one degree short of burning my mouth and cold food to be one degree away from freezing. I'm an advocate for properly chilled sodas and potluck salads. 

I prefer to sleep with three pillows, and whenever possible, I bring at least one of my own pillows to hotels. 

I prefer driving a van over an SUV. I really like the automatic sliding doors. The day my kids stopped door dinging other cars in the parking lot was a day my life changed for the better! I've always liked vans and have never thought of them as uncool. To me, practicality is the ultimate form of coolness. 

Our van at the beach with a bird on top

I prefer to wear shoes in my house. I know this is highly unpopular, but it's how I roll. I kick off my shoes to lounge on the couch, and then I put them back on if I get up and walk around (usually I wear flip flops or hard-soled slippers). 

I prefer white bread. I like wheat bread just fine, but when I eat a sandwich on white bread, I’m always like, “Oh my heck! White bread is so stinkin’ good!” Also, I prefer to buy Dunford white bread, and I always struggle when we go out of state, and the stores don’t have Dunford.

I prefer camping in a tent to camping in a trailer. I don’t really have any desire to own a camp trailer, and when people invite me to sleep in their trailers, I’m not really interested. I like my air mattress, my sleeping bag, and a chill in the air.

A few years ago I bought this cabin-style tent. 

It’s great for tall people, and it has lights inside.

I prefer to stay in a hotel rather than camp when we go to National Parks. 

I prefer to pay full admission to go somewhere on a non-crowded day over fighting crowds on a discount or free entry day. 

I prefer to not leave my house after 7:00 pm. Evening events are hard for me. I just want to be in my stretchy pants in my own home. 

I prefer crunchy peanut butter. I'm not loyal to a brand, though. 

I prefer Coke to Pepsi (but let’s not kid anyone, I’ll drink Pepsi just fine!)

I prefer to say "intristing" rather than "in-ter-est-ing." This is a conscious decision I made after watching this video several years ago. 

--------------------------------

Now tell me, do we share any preferences, or am I alone in my strange ways?

A Hobby and a Plan

September Writing Challenge - Prompt #17:

Hobby

You know when you have to introduce yourself and say what your "hobbies" are? I used to really struggle with that, especially in early motherhood when I felt like I couldn't have any hobbies. In recent years, though, I've become more comfortable with it because I know my hobbies and interests much better now. Usually if someone asks my hobbies, I say gardening, reading, and (maybe) writing.

Gardening is pretty simple to understand. I like to grow stuff. Reading - yeah, everyone "gets" that. I like to read books. Nice and simple. But writing? Sometimes I leave it off the list. It's like... well, what do you write? And then trying to explain blogging can be awkward. I don't write poems. I don't write books. I don't want to call it "blogging" because that sounds silly (even though that's what it is), so I say "writing," but sometimes it's just easier to not mention it. Perhaps a better word for my hobby is "documenting" because I have always been an avid journaler, photo taker, and "writer downer." Blogging is only one of my methods. 

I have another hobby that I don't really mention, and that is "planning." It's a hobby that requires an explanation. 

"What do you mean by planning?"

My hobby is simply... making a plan. I'm really good at making plans! Meal plans, budgets, itineraries, schedules, etc. 

I love to plan. Making a grocery list is my idea of fun. Seriously. 

The problem is following through. That is not my hobby. I'm a planner, not a follow through-er. So if you want to know The Plan, I will tell you The Plan. If you want to see me uphold the plan, you're asking too much. I will buy what's on the grocery list, but then I will go home and order pizza. Because eating out is one of my other hobbies I choose to not mention in my introductions. 

Perhaps, someday when I feel like I can be really open about who I am, I'll say, "Hi, my name is Brittany. I enjoy reading, gardening, documenting, planning, and going out to eat." And maybe people will be like, "Hey, I dig that. You're cool." 

How I Process the Performing Arts

This summer I've had the chance to see quite a few movies and stage productions, and I've realized some funny habits I have. 

During a show (be it a movie, a play, a concert, or even reality TV), I rarely just sit back, watch it, and take it in. Instead, in my mind, I put myself in the performance. If I am watching So You Think You Can Dance, I am doing the dance moves in my head. If I'm watching In the Heights on stage (which I did twice this summer), I am singing or acting out the parts. 

Some things I think about while I'm "performing" in my head:

Sweat: I worry about how much the people in the show are sweating/not sweating. If they are sweating a lot, I'm concerned about their costuming, their make-up, and their contact with other people. I think about what it would be like to perform a dance number with a sweaty partner, what they all smell like, and what I would smell like. I think about how this affects one's confidence and ability to interact intimately with another person. I think about how they have to touch each other and just be okay with it.

But then, if they're not sweating excessively, I wonder why. How are they staying dry? What is their secret? Why isn't their face melting off and why aren't their pits drenched?

Breath: I worry about what everyone's breath smells like. When actors have to get right in each other's faces, do they smell each other's breath and just deal with it? Do they swish with mouthwash between scenes? What if you have a kissing scene, and the person you have to kiss is just nasty, but you have to act like you like it? 

I especially think about breath when I see a morning scene where characters wake up in bed next to each other and go for the open mouth smoocher. There is nothing romantic about that to me because all I can focus on is their morning breath which they're pretending not to have.

Costuming: I look at costumes, imagine myself wearing them, and anticipate every wardrobe malfunction I can think of. She's going to break a heel. That shirt is going to show some serious back sweat. I'm not sure her boobs are going to stay in. She can't sit down in that. He's gonna pop a button. For the love of Pete! Do not lift your arms above your head!

And then there's the all-too-popular sex scene. 

When I see a sex scene, all I think about is what it would be like to act it out. I don't know how people do it. They're basically pretending intimacy with a co-worker! And of course, I'm thinking about sweat... and breath... and costuming... and then I also think about their real-life spouses and their professional relationship, and I never quite buy into the scene because I'm overly focused on the fact that it's make-believe, and two people had to act it out in front of a camera with a bunch of onlookers, some of which would be saying things like, "A little more to the left! Let's move the sheet. Get the camera right up in there! Try to flex your muscles a bit more!"

While I was watching a play a couple of weeks ago (performing the song and dance numbers in my mind and trying to imagine myself not sweating), I realized this might not be what everyone else does during a performance. Last night I went to see Elvis (all by myself!), and I tried to watch it without doing Elvis dance moves in my head or worrying about his sweat, and I couldn't do it. I had to gyrate in my mind and wonder what Elvis smelled like. 

I can't help it. This is my process. 

Creepy Confessions

In general, I'm pretty good with remembering names and faces and information about people. Every now and then there's a name that doesn't stick, and I have to keep asking, but for the most part, I don't have a hard time with names. This is a blessing and a curse - a blessing because I always know who everyone else is. A curse because I always know who everyone else is. 

(Aside: the other day I had a situation where I didn't recognize someone, and afterward, when I realized who the person was, I felt horrible. It was very out of character for me. Then I realized she didn't know me at all, so why should I feel bad?)

Anyway, sometimes this trait makes me a little creepy. Several years ago, I kept seeing this mom from my kids' school at various places throughout the community. I knew who she was, of course, but she never showed an ounce of familiarity toward me. Finally, one day, in the make-up aisle of Target, I stopped and introduced myself and told her that I recognized her from the school and that I tend to see her a lot. I asked her her name (even though I already knew her name, her kids' names, and what she did for a living because that's how creepy I am). Then, to continue my creepy ways, I sent her a friend request on Facebook. We have not developed a magical friendship, but now when we see each other out in the world, we at least say hello. 

A short time later, I did the same thing to another mom from school that I kept seeing everywhere I went. I cornered her in the Chick-Fil-A play area and told her that I recognized her from the school and that I see her often in the community. I didn't send this mom a Facebook friend request, though, and it worked out well that I didn't because I never saw her again. Maybe I scared the living daylights out of her and she joined the witness protection program. 

A few years ago, I started seeing this other girl around town (now that I'm almost 40, is "girl" even the right word? Because I feel like "lady" and "woman" are too old, but "girl" is too young - what should I call my fellow women? "Female peers?") Anyway, I started seeing this female peer from time to time, and of course it turned out that her kids went to my kids' school (I'm not intentionally stalking the mothers of my children's classmates, it just works out that way). I felt like we were supposed to be friends. I even told my friend Shannon that I kept seeing a female peer around town that I knew I was supposed to be friends with, but I wasn't going to force it. I just felt like someday things would fall into place, and this girl/woman/female peer and I would be friends. 

Across the span of about two years, I observed my Potential Friend and accidentally learned a lot about her - meanwhile, she was completely oblivious to my existence. 

Again, I am creepy. It just comes naturally. 

Finally, I ended up at a large community event with my Potential Friend, and I knew that that was to be my day of attack. Somehow I weaseled my way into small talk with her, and I did the whole, "I think our kids go to the same school," thing (I decided not to mention the fact that I'd been scoping her out for two years and knew we were meant to be friends because... hello... creepy). 

It worked. We're friends now!

Do we hang out? Nope. Do we exchange birthday cards? Nope. But somehow, I still feel like we've got each other's backs. Even though we've never shared a meal or hung out in sweatpants together, I feel like my special circle of people has expanded through my ultimate creepiness. 

Now there's this other mom from the school I'm starting to see everywhere, poor soul, and I'm wondering if it's my God-given mission to chase these women down in public and make them be my friends. 

So watch out, female peer! I'm coming for you next!

An Incomplete List of Awkward Situations (Part IV)

When you have to run into a public place to deal with a bathroom emergency, and you don't put any thought into what you did with your car keys, and when you stand up from the toilet, they fall down inside your pant leg, and you have to do a strange jig to wiggle them down to the bottom where you can reach up your pant leg to grab them, but you are wearing skinny jeans that are a bit too tight, and you can't get your hand and your keys to meet, so after all that work, you have to pull your pants all the way down to your ankles to retrieve the keys.

When you're delivering Christmas gifts to your neighbors, and you see all the gifts on their porches from neighbors who didn't bring you anything. 

When your kid takes a bunch of sticks out of the neighbor's yard and brings them home, and you really just want the kid to go put the sticks back, but it's probably poor etiquette to throw sticks on your neighbor's lawn, even when that's where they came from, so you just have to accept that his tree branches are now your problem.

When you buy something from the thrift store that you're super excited about, and you post a photo online, and someone tells you they just donated that very item last week. 

When you're pretty sure you hear a burglar downstairs in your kitchen, but you're super tired and don't want to get out of bed to fight him off, so you just figure he can take whatever he wants as long as you don't have to get up. 

When you're washing your car, but the car wash attendant doesn't properly guide you, so your tire hits the edge of the conveyor and jerks your car all over the place, and the attendant looks at you like you're an idiot, but they are the ones who are supposed to let you know if you need to turn your wheel. 

When companies have costumed individuals standing out on the street trying to entice you to utilize their services, but ain't no man dressed like Lady Liberty ever convinced you to get your taxes done. 

Additionally, when that waving individual on the street seems miffed that you're not waving back, and you're like, "Lady Liberty Dude, I am just not in the mood right now, okay?"

When you're rounding up kids in a public place, and you're trying to gather the wrong kids, and their mom looks at you like you’re some kind of kidnapper, and you’re like, “Oh please! Like you’ve never tried to take someone else’s kids from the park before!”

Likewise, when you scold a kid at the store and then realize it's not yours. 

When you're buying a large item at Costco and you can't see very well over the cart, and you crash into a lady talking on her cell phone. 

When someone let's their dog jump all over you, and they say, "Let me know if he's bothering you," and you smile while thinking, "Why would you assume that this is not bothering me?"

When you're at the OB/GYN, and they call out "Brittany," but two of you stand up, and suddenly you're in a Brittany Show-Down!

When you look more pregnant that the other Brittany, only you're not pregnant at all.

When a man at church has a super cute baby boy, and you are ooing and ahhing over the little guy and suddenly say, "Can I have your baby?" and all you meant, jokingly, was "This baby is so cute and squishy, I could just take him home and keep him," but instead, you've essentially asked the dad to procreate with you. 

When there are new employees being trained at Cafe Rio, and you know what goes on the tostada, and they don't, so you coach them through it like you own the place, and you kind of feel like a jerk, but you can't just stand there and let them make their tostadas wrong!

When someone is walking down the middle of the parking lot row, and you're stuck driving behind them thinking, “It’s okay, man, I love taking 20 extra minutes to get the hell outta Walmart.”

When you're in the dressing room at TJ Maxx and the lady in the room next to you is talking on her phone to her therapist, and the details are so juicy that you kind of feel dirty, but at the same time, it's not your fault she's having this conversation in a public setting! And you really wanna see what this woman looks like, but you don't want to have an awkward run-in coming out of the dressing room, so you scope out her shoes under the stall and hope to find her wandering the store later (alas, in this case, you never find her).

When you're approaching your van, and you use the key fob to open the sliding doors, and a bunch of garbage blows out. 

When you go to Costco and choose not to get a cart because you're just there so your daughter can buy a Squishmallow, but then you see that the 25 lb bags of flour are finally back in stock, so you grab one and carry it around the store like Luisa, but then you buy a drink for yourself and your daughter on the way out, and your daughter announces that she can't possibly carry a Squishmallow and a drink, so you're stuck acting like it's perfectly normal to carry a 25 lb bag of flour and two sodas across Costco whilst also keeping your receipt available for the door check.

When you make a formal announcement on the internet that you're going to quit drinking soda on Monday, and then you don't. 

When you go to the donut shop and they tape your donut box closed as if you're not going to tear into it the second you get in the car.

When you smell something weird everywhere you go, but it takes you all day to realize that it might be you.

AND...

This is for Cousin Cyndi...

When you're wiping your daughter in a public restroom, and a hard turd ball goes flying off her bottom and rolls into the occupied stall next to you, to which you respond, "Oh crap!" while reaching under the stall with toilet paper to retrieve it.

An Incomplete List of Awkward Situations (Part III)

When you're getting toilet paper in a public restroom, and the squares rip off every few inches, so you have to keep spinning and tearing and spinning and tearing just to get enough for a little dab, but with all the effort you've put into getting your toilet paper, it sounds to your fellow bathroom-goers like you've just had the poop of the century, and you're gathering thirty yards of toilet paper to finish with. 

Likewise, when you're in a public restroom, and you can't find the end of the toilet paper, so you keep spinning the giant roll round and round, but it's JUST. NOT. THERE! and you have to tear into it like a savage to create your own TP start. 

When the toilet paper is behind your head in the stall.

When you have 30 minutes to get a sample to the hospital lab, and in the final five minutes, as you make your way down the corridor, someone from high school sees you and wants to stop and chat. Meanwhile you hold a brown paper bag of specimen and wonder if they know what's inside... because there are only so many things a person delivers to a hospital lab in a brown paper bag...

When you get to the counter at the lab, and no one is there, so you get to just stand there with your brown paper bag and smile at everyone in the waiting area, wondering if you should start a game of "Poop or Semen?"

When you're out walking and a dog starts following you and misbehaving - running out in front of cars, pooping on people's lawns - and everyone thinks it's your dog.

It's not my dog, I swear!

When you're at a drive through, and the person in front of you has finished ordering, but they're not pulled forward enough for you to get to the ordering box, and the employees are trying to talk to you through the speaker, and you have to yell from your window, "Hold on! I'm not there yet!"

When you open a new puzzle and you find pieces that are stuck together and you have to wonder if that's cheating (while also secretly celebrating that there's less work you have to do), and then you go out of your way, through the sorting process, to make sure that those two pieces don't get separated. 

When someone "likes" your social media post three seconds after you post it, but it's six paragraphs long, so you know they didn't read it.

When your friend at church has something really weird going on with her hair in the back, but she's on the other side of the chapel, so there's nothing you can do, but you know that she would want to know, so you try typing out a text, but "You have a weird lumpy thing going on in the back of your hair, just thought you'd like to know," doesn't seem like a very nice thing to say to someone, so you just let her have lumpy hair. 

When your friend at church has lumpy hair, and you know she would want to smooth it out, but you can't figure out a good way to let her know, so you start wondering if you should text the 60 year old man sitting behind her and say, "Hey Brother LastName, will you smooth out Friend's lumpy hair for me? Kthxbye."

__________________________

If that's not awkward enough, you can find more here:

Awkward Situations Part I

Awkward Situations Part II

What Dreams are Made Of

One way that Scotty and I are very different is in the way we dream. I'm a very vivid dreamer - I have dreams every time I sleep. My mind bounces from subject to subject, sometimes convincing me that I’m a closet genius while other times making me believe I’m utterly insane. Scotty rarely dreams, so when he does have a dream, he's usually a little weirded out by it. 

Just last night I dreamed that I had to kill a batch of Ramen that was coming alive, so I was grabbing handfuls of noodles and shoving them in the garbage disposal to grind them up. And then, just to ensure their demise, I poured bleach into the disposal and let it run for hours. Then I ran out of bleach so I went to Walmart, and I was wearing a really long sweater that dragged on the ground, but it made me look really skinny, so I kept checking out my reflection in the store windows. Then I realized I’d accidentally driven two cars to the store, so I wandered around trying to find someone I knew to see if they could drive one of my cars home. I ran into Jill from my ward, who is a school teacher, and she asked me to participate in a walk out with all the teachers on Sunday at 9:00. I didn't want to join because I didn't know the cause. Then suddenly I was in singing time at church, and I had a new Apple watch, but I had no idea how to use it, and it kept making noise, and every kid in primary was claiming to be an Apple watch expert, so we wasted the entire singing time fiddling with my watch, and none of the kids actually knew a dang thing. Then the Ward Critics went and told the bishop that they didn't approve of me letting the kids use my Apple watch during singing time, so he called me in and told me that if I let the kids use my Apple watch in primary, I need to download a Ninja Turtle game on my watch for them to play.

And that, my friends, is a typical account of my night life. A lot goes on in this brain of mine while I sleep.

Since I dream all the time, I have a lot of recurring dreams:

1. My teeth are falling out

I always dream about losing my teeth. Sometimes they are loose, and I'm trying everything I can to keep them from coming out. Other times they break apart or crumble in my mouth.

2. I'm back in high school

I have pretty standard high school dreams. I can't remember my locker combination or my schedule. It's the end of the semester, and there's a class I've never been to. I'm on stage with the dance team, and I don't know the choreography. I know that I'm old, and I know that I've already graduated, so I can't figured out why I'm there!

3. I'm at my grandma's house

I dream about both my grandmas' houses all the time. Sometimes I own the house. Sometimes the dream just takes place there. My grandmas’ houses are very prominent settings for me - my dreams take place as often in their houses as they do in my own!

4. I can't get anything clean

I always dream that I'm trying to clean something, and I can't ever get it clean. I'm picking up toys, but no matter how many toys I pick up, the work never ends. Everything is getting messy all around me as I try frantically to get things under control. 

5. I'm dating

I start dating someone, and things are going really well, and I really like the person, but all of a sudden I remember that I'm married. In these dreams, I'm truly in love with Scotty, I just somehow forgot about him long enough to accidentally begin another relationship. Then I’m torn and don’t know what to do because I don’t want to lose Scotty, but I’m also really digging the excitement of my new relationship.

6. Scotty and I never got married

This dream I find very fascinating because in this one, Scotty and I never got married. We live together and have kids as we do now; we just never had a wedding - everyone assumes we did. And it's just a funny, little secret that we keep. Sometimes we decide to get married. Sometimes we decide to tell people, like our bishop, “Hey, we never actually got married!” 

7. Running and going nowhere

I have a lot of dreams where I'm trying to run, but I'm not going anywhere. My legs are completely fatigued to the point where I can barely move them, and after all my efforts, I just can't move forward. 

8. I have a new house

In this one, I have a new house, and it always has some great features - like a really big family room, or a terrific yard, or a spare bedroom! Then suddenly I remember that we never sold our old house, and I think of everything we need to do to get it ready to sell. I get completely overwhelmed and realize I can't have the new house because I can't sell the old house. 

9. My step-dad comes back

At least once or twice a month I dream that my mom's ex-husband comes back into our lives. He shows up at my house, or I go over to my mom's house, and he's living there. I tell her over and over that she can't let him come back. I refuse to talk to him or go near him, but I can't get him to go away. 

10. I can't find anywhere private to go to the bathroom

In this dream, I'm trying so hard to go to the bathroom, but anywhere I go, people walk in on me. None of the bathroom doors lock. Sometimes I'm trying to pee in weird places - like in the woods, in a garbage can, or down a drain. I always get caught. 

I'm not a huge believer in dream interpretation (for the most part I think dream analysis is just the barnum effect), but I definitely believe that our joys and our worries manifest themselves in our dreams. Scotty isn't much of a worrier, and he doesn't get stressed very often. So perhaps that contributes to his quiet mind at night. Or maybe he just has really screwy sleep cycles. He may not worry much in his conscious state, but he is always always tired. 

How about you? Are you a dreamer? Do you share any of my recurring dreams?

An Incomplete List of Awkward Situations

When you get in the same navigation pattern as someone at the grocery store and you end up passing them in every aisle, so you make the effort to break the pattern, and you play it cool, as if that's how you planned to shop all along, and you still end up stuck in the same aisle. 

When you walk toward your van and another lady is also walking toward your van and you know that one of you is going to the wrong van. 

When you have no idea where you parked so you just walk out into the parking lot and fake confidence, hoping no one can tell you’re lost.

When you go somewhere to eat and then you go somewhere afterward and people from the restaurant are there, and you're left wondering, "Are we in a relationship? Do we have to acknowledge one another in public now that we've eaten ten feet apart and shown up at Costco together?"

When you pull into a parking spot, and you have food in the car to eat, but there is someone sitting in the car right across from you, and they're eating, too, and suddenly you're dating this stranger who obviously has very poor eating habits.  

When you see someone you haven't seen in years, and you pretend you don't know them because you don't know of they remember you, but you have to wonder if they are doing the exact same thing - in which case, you should have just said hi and broken the ice because now you're probably going to see that person every week for the next two months (cause that's just how it goes), and you're going to have to keep pretending you don't know them because the decision has already been made.

When the person you've seen in public for years and pretended not to know suddenly talks to you as if you've always been friends, and you have to carry on as if you never pretended to not know each other. 

When someone uses your bathroom and later you go in there and see that your kid left their poopy underwear stain-side up on the floor that morning with a trail of poopy toilet paper leading to the garbage can.

When you try to honk your horn nicely to let the person in front of you know that the light is green, but your van only honks mean.

When you know who a person is, and you know a few things about them because you see a lot of their Facebook activity through mutual friends, and then you “meet” each other in real life and have to pretend like you don’t know exactly who they are, who their friends are, and where they went on vacation last month.

When you go to McDonald's or Chick-Fil-A and no one is pulling into the second lane, so you pull into the second lane and pass, like, six cars and end up getting your food before all of them, and you know they all hate you now, but it's not your fault they didn't go in the second lane.

When you are in line waiting for a gas pump, and a different pump becomes available, and you have to decide whether to wait it out or try to get to the other pump before someone else. And then you go for it, but someone else gets there first, and you end up having to wait even longer to get gas (ditto for grocery lines).

And let's not forget, when you're going to a short grocery line, and you see someone else heading for the same line, and you have to decide between racing there and acting like you weren't trying to beat the person or slowing down so the other person gets there first and acting like that was your pace all along and it's all good!

When another driver has the right of way, but they completely disrupt the flow of traffic to let you go first.  

When someone tells you a very embellished version of something that happened, and they don't realize you were there when it happened, so you know that's not exactly how things went down.

When someone invites you over for a meal, and you see them pull something out of the pantry that you know is supposed to be refrigerated, and you wonder if this is how you will die. 

When your son breaks up with his girlfriend in maybeeee not the most tactful way, and you run into her mom two days later at the pharmacy. 

When you're being guided through a construction zone by a flagger, and they are pointing to the lane as if you aren't responding to instructions fast enough, yet you can't go any faster because everyone is going 5 mph, and you're sitting there thinking, "Believe me buddy, I want this to be over as fast as you do!"

Likewise, when you're being guided into a car wash (the kind that has humans), and you have to sit there making eye contact with the car wash attendant through the window until they give you the signal to put the car in neutral. 

And finally...

Everything about eating at Olive Garden. 

Will I get in trouble if I ask for a new bowl of soup without finishing the first one? Am I going to be judged by how I pronounce pasta e fagioli? Do I wait for the server to come to the table on their own or do I summon them with the tablet thingy? At what point have I eaten too many breadsticks? What's up with these giant, unnatural, three-pronged forks? Allow me to sit here staring at you while you grate cheese onto my food. Can I please just pepper my own entree and box my own leftovers?* What do I do if Post Malone shows up?

*I'm happy to report that during my most recent trip to Olive Garden, there was pepper on the table, and the servers were asking the customers if they would like the staff to box their leftovers or if they would like to do it themselves (are there seriously people who would prefer the employees to box their leftovers? This is something I wouldn't understand).

The Stranger Things of West Valley

I see a lot of weird things while I'm driving around from day to day, and I realized this week that I need to start writing them down. I'm left to wonder if there are weird things going on in every city on earth or if I just live somewhere special. I also wonder if other people see as many strange things as I do, or if I catch more of it because I'm an observant person

Here are three things I've seen in the past week.

The Motorcycle Mascot

Last weekend, I swear I saw someone in a bear costume driving a motorcycle down 3500 South. I did a double-take and wished I had time to make a u-turn and follow him for further observation (I would do such a thing), but sadly, I needed to sally forth to my destination. 

The more I think about it, the more I believe it looked like Leo the Lion - the mascot for Real Salt Lake. There is no logical reason for Leo the Lion to be driving a motorcycle in that area, but that's what the creature in question resembled. And I confess... until about five minutes ago, I didn't even know that the Real Salt Lake mascot was a lion. It looks like a bear to me! 

Not a bear

And it fits with the Jazz Bear and Grizzbee. To me, all mascots, except Cosmo, are bears.

Anyway, after I got over the initial shock of the sighting, I realized how stinkin' dangerous it would be to drive in a mascot costume. You can't drive in a bear/lion head! So what in the world did I see? 

If I ever witness such a thing again, I will absolutely make it a priority to abandon all other plans and follow the alleged mascot. 

The Broomstick Biker

Another thing I saw recently was a man on a bike with a five-gallon bucket strapped to his back. What was in the bucket? Where was he going? I have so many questions.

But just to make it weirder, there was also something protruding from under the man's bike seat, and the only way I can think to describe it was that it looked like a broom handle, and it stuck out three or four feet.

Inspiration?

The only hypothesis I have is that it was his social distancing stick. No one was coming within six feet of that dangerous set up. That's for sure. 

The Misplaced Spaghetti

The last thing I saw was a car with an open bag of spaghetti noodles sitting on the back bumper. The car was driving down 3500 South (apparently 3500 South is a corridor of weirdness), and every few seconds, a spaghetti noodle would fall on the ground. 

I found this quite amusing and am dying to know the back story. I really wanted to pull up next to them at the intersection and say, "Excuse me! You're losing your spaghetti!" but I never had the chance. 

I just hope their dinner plans weren't foiled!

If these three instances have taught me anything, it's that the world is dangerous in unexpected ways. With bear heads, broomsticks, and flying spaghetti on the loose, you can never be too careful! Be safe out there, folks!

20 Things About Me That May or May Not Be Weird

1. I yell "Eagle" every time I go down a hill on Splash Mountain. 

2. I wash my feet every night before I go to bed.  

3. I want to be a mascot. 

4. I don't own any flat sheets. My kids probably don't even know what flat sheets are. 

5. I make a clicking sound in the back of my throat when I'm tired or when I am singing a song in my head (it's my metronome).

6. The song "We Wish You a Merry Christmas" gives me anxiety. 

7. I like the sensation of my nostrils being stretched.

8. I like putting rose petals up my nose and shooting them out. 

9. And while I'm on the topic of noses, I might as well tell you that my nose is very pliable. I can squish it and stretch it all over the place (this is the exact opposite of Scotty's nose which is very firm, bony, and immobile).

10. I really hate koi fish and most sea creatures. I find them repulsive.  

11. I've always had a secret desire to eat the food other people have left behind at restaurants. Free appetizers? Yes, please! 

(I've never done it. Calm down!)

12. Two of my favorite smells are Cabbage Patch Dolls and the exhaust fumes from old Volkswagens. 

13. I want to adopt Miley Cyrus, Justin Bieber, and Britney Spears. I want to mother them and nurture the heck out of them. Even though Britney is older than me...

14. I put all the silverware in the dishwasher prong/scoop-up except for sharp knives. I don't feel like they get clean otherwise, and I don't like not being able to see what they are.  

15. I like to catch bubbles on my tongue. When I was a nursery leader, I taught all the kids to do it. The parents weren't super thrilled about it. 

16. I have trypophobia, and I have been so happy since I discovered the word for it! I never knew how to explain this weird reaction I've had my whole life. 

17. I just recently learned how to pronounce "croissant" in English. I only knew how to say it in French, which would make a lot more sense if I were, in fact, French.

18. I'm brilliant at opening Otter Pops with my teeth. 

19. I have "voice crushes" - people whose voices sound lovely to me, and I want them to read me books or sing me songs. 

20. I watch everything with closed captioning.

The Piece of Furniture You Didn't Know You Were Missing

September Writing Challenge - Prompt #25:

Furniture

Shortly before Daisy was born, I asked Scotty if he would find me some sort of comfy rocking chair to put in our bedroom. When Nicky was born, I wanted everything to be cute and trendy, but we couldn't afford a cute and trendy rocking chair, so we didn't get one. With Daisy, I didn't care about cute and trendy. I wanted something comfy and cheap.

Scotty found a La-Z-Boy in the classifieds for $20 and brought it home. It was old and ugly, and there wasn't space for it in our room. It was the perfect addition to our home, though, because it served a great purpose: providing a place to rock and feed my baby in the middle of the night. We could only fit it in our room if we put it parallel to the wall with the back facing the bedroom door. Very bad feng shui! I named the chair Old Stinky. It didn't stink, luckily, but it looked like it should. 

The chair moved between our living room and bedroom for the next nine years depending on what phases our babies were in.

In July when we inherited a "new" couch, I decided it was time to get rid of Old Stinky. Our bulk pick up day for garbage was that week, so I took the back off the chair and started moving the bottom piece to the curb. I made it down the stairs and into the driveway, and then I decided I'd just leave it for Scotty to take care of after work.

Later that night, I went outside to watch Eva ride her bike (our nightly routine). I usually grab a camp chair out of the garage to sit on, but I saw Old Stinky sitting in the driveway and decided to put it back together and sit in it.

It was glorious! A driveway recliner!

I still had one more day until garbage day, so I ended up moving the chair into the garage so I could sit on it again the next day. By the time garbage day rolled around, I couldn't bring myself to part with Old Stinky as I'd discovered a new purpose for its existence!

I didn't know I needed a driveway recliner in my life, but now that I have one, there's no going back. I keep it in the garage. Sometimes I open the garage door and sit in it, and other times, I pull it out into the driveway (this is better placement on hot days since there's more airflow).

In fact, if you're looking for me...

My Phobias

A few weeks ago I wrote about some of my fears. As of last weekend, I have a new one: passing out in a hot porta-potty. This new fear came while using a Honey Bucket in 90 degree weather at my in-laws' campground. I was in there thinking, "Wow, it's really hot in here. What if I pass out? How long would it take for them to find me?" No one knew I was in the Honey Bucket. I suddenly became aware of the lack of air flow and the tightness of the walls. The Honey Bucket became a death trap. I thought, "I should text Scotty and let him know I'm in here," but I didn't have service.

Really, I have no reason to worry about passing out - I've never passed out in my life. But being in tight quarters with no air flow brings on panic and gets my imagination riled up. I'm moderately claustrophobic. From day to day, it's not really a big deal, but on the occasion I find myself in a small or closed-in space, I can easily make a fool of myself.

There was a day in primary when I was leading the music, and someone closed the door to the room. I prefer the door open, but normally, I am ok if the door is closed if I take a few deep breaths to remind myself that I have plenty of air. On that particular day, though, it made me panic. The room was hot and fuller than normal. I had to fight to not abandon my lesson and run out of the room and through the back door of the church for fresh air. The second singing time ended, that's exactly what I did.

There's another phobia I want to talk about today, though. It's one I've always had, but I didn't know the term for it until recently: trypophobia. (You're gonna have to google that one on your own. I can't give you a link because I don't want to see the images that come up). I've always had this "thing," but I never would have considered it a "phobia" because it's not necessarily a "fear." 

Trypophobia is having a disgust response to tiny holes. If it happens to you, you know exactly what I'm talking about. If it doesn't happen to you, it will sound crazy.

I first became aware of it when I was about 12 years old, and I tried Easy Mac for the first time. I microwaved the noodles, and they all turned on end so the holes were all facing upward. I looked at them and felt really yucky. I couldn't stop picturing it afterward - the visual was just stuck there in my mind. From then on, I've been very aware that patterns of tiny holes make me feel sick - things like strawberries with their tiny seed holes (shudder) and wasp nests with their little caves (shudder) all make me feel really gross, sometimes to the point of shaking (literal shudder).

(I eat strawberries just fine, but I can't look closely at them. If I do, I get that yucky feeling and then I get fixated on them and can't stop picturing them).

When we were camping last week, I had to face my claustrophobia in the Honey Bucket, but I also had to face my trypophobia when one of my nieces found a rock with tiny holes in it and left it sitting on the picnic table. I kept glancing at it and thinking, "I have to get rid of that thing!" I ended up turning it over. But first I held it up to my niece and said, "Does looking at this rock make you feel yucky?"

She said no and looked at me like I was nuts. 

Apparently trypophobia has been a popular social media topic in the past. Somehow I missed that wave, but it's nice to have a word for it and to know that there are people who have the same reaction. We can be nuts together!

These Things I Fear

I've been put in some situations lately where I've had to face the possibility of failure. For most of my life I haven't tried anything that I didn't already know I could do. I've never learned to deal with failure in a healthy way. I'm horribly afraid of it. And it's funny because I can say all the right things about failure to everyone else, but the truth is... it's okay for everyone else to fail. They will overcome! Failure shouldn't be a setback. Ultimately, they will triumph and have a beautiful success story. I believe in them!

But me?

Oh, I can't fail. No, no, no. I have to get it right the first time, or I am nothing. 

NOTHING, I say!

The only way I can face failure is if I do it in secret. No one can ever even know I tried! I'm very prone to giving up just to eliminate the possibility of failure. The fear of failure has held me back a lot in my life. Who knows what I've missed out on because of it!

Fear of failure is pretty common. I'm sure many of you can relate to what I'm saying. Not all of my fears are as common, though. And some are just downright silly...

For example, I have a deep fear of being fooled by a celebrity look-alike. I used to love watching talk shows where they would have look-alikes go out in public and see who would fall for it. I remember once watching a lady cry hysterically because she thought she was meeting Bono. I never want to be that lady. Not that I would cry if I met a celebrity, I just don't want to ever think I've seen a celebrity when I haven't.

This fear recently resurfaced because I saw a series of instagram posts where people were trying to figure out if Johnny Depp was in Disneyland. They eventually determined that it was not Johnny Depp, but I have to say... it really did look like him, and I could have easily been fooled.

I also fear that someday I will be right next to a celebrity and not even notice. This fear stems from another Disneyland-related incident. When I was 12 I went with my dance studio. We went through the park in different groups, and at the end of the day, everyone was talking about how they saw Robin Williams there. I didn't see Robin Williams. But what if I did, and I just didn't know?

Am I obsessed with celebrities? Not really. But human behavior and lifestyles intrigue me, so if I'm in the presence of fame, I'm gonna wanna stare and observe because it's something that's completely foreign to me, and I'm fascinated by that. Plus, FOMO.

I have a newly found fear of getting stuck in a foam pit. My friend Shannon braved the foam pit at her local jump place, and the foam ate her alive. She had to be rescued by another mom. Now I know... I must beware the foam.

I'm afraid of choking on carrots. I came to this conclusion while I was eating carrots in the car. I became very aware of their texture, and how you kind of have to chew them for a long time before you can swallow them, and you build up a collection of tiny chunks that could easily slip down your throat or get inhaled into your lung.

I don't worry about choking on any other foods. Just carrots.

I'm afraid to be the person whose phone goes off during church. It's an honest mistake, and I don't necessarily frown on people to whom this happens. It could easily be me someday. What I hate is that it becomes an immediate case to solve. The game is on.

I don't ever want all the people like me - the ones who can't function until they know whose ringer just went off - to know that when "Safety Dance" starts playing in sacrament meeting, it's coming from my bag.

Speaking of cases to solve, I'm afraid of being framed for a crime. And being buried alive.

I'm scared of setting off metal detectors.

And falling off toilets because the seats are loose.

And, of course, I suffer from the fear of starting a blog post and not knowing how to finish it. Yes, that's one I face pretty regularly.