Wash your hands!

I am an idiot.

Tonight I went to Ft Collins to play city league volleyball with my dear friend, Terrance Jillian (aka Teri).  One of the girls on our team has two cute little kids that she sometimes brings with her.  They are so sweet...occasionally, we have to take a time out so that Sherri can take her little girl to the potty.  Tonight was one such occasion.  Sherri raced back in, put her daughter on the bleachers, and ran back out on the court.  "We didn't wash her hands," she says, as we all laugh (they only give us 30 second time outs, so we had already started playing without her).  

After the game (yes, we won, of course...) I told Teri to wait for me because I had to use the potty.  As I was sitting there, Sherri walks in with her little girl again into the stall next to me.  

Sherri: "Okay, let's hurry.  Let's get this unbuttoned."

Me: (imagine it as if I'm talking to a little child x 10)  "Okay!  Here I go!"

Sherri:  Laughs.  Sort of.  

Sherri:  "Remember like last time..." blah blah blah, whatever mothers say to their kids when they take them to the bathroom.

Moron (that would be me, still in mock parent's voice):  "And let's remember to wash our hands!"  Laughing at my funny joke.

Girl in next stall with child:  ....

Me:  .....

Suddenly, I wonder why it is that Sherri's daughter would have to pee again so quickly when she just went minutes before.  Suddenly, I realize as I look briefly at the little girl's shoe under the stall, that it's much larger than Sherri's little girl's shoe.  Suddenly, that doesn't sound much like Sherri...

I pull up my pants, flush, race to the sink, wash my hands, grab my keys & chapstick, drop my chapstick, curse under my breath as I grab for my chapstick (meanwhile the toilet was flushing from the little girl...they would be out in seconds...) and run - no, SPRINT to the bathroom door and flee to the gym where, that's right, you guessed it, Teri, Sherri, and children are all still there.  

I tell them my humiliating story as the pseudo Sherri & child enter the gymnasium.  We all laugh hysterically as I'm SURE she is telling her story to her teammates about the crazy lady in the adjacent stall (I'm pretty confident she could spot me).  Teri pointed out that instead of waiting and saying, "Oh!  I'm sorry, I thought you were my friend!" and making it all better and laughing, I decided to duck and run.  Yes, folks, I panicked.  Let this be a lesson to us all to not speak to others while we're taking care of business.   Or to take a friend with us at that very moment so that we know they are, indeed, the person we are talking to.  Maybe that's why girl's always go in groups???  

Car Trouble...

So a couple weekends ago, Mom and Pops let KB, Devan and I take their car.  Ahem.  So, we get in the car, I turn it on, and it's beeping madly at me.  I put on my stinking seatbelt so it will shut up.  It doesn't.  The headlights aren't turning on, either.  AND, I can't find the stinking light on the inside of the car so that I can see where to turn on the headlights.  Oh yeah, and the car is still beeping at me.  I yell at KB to put on her (insert expletive here) seatbelt, only she already has it on.  I yell at Devan in the back seat.  The madness is beginning to take hold because I can't see, the stinking car won't quit beeping at me, and I can't find out how to turn on the headlights...and I'm still in the driveway. Oh yeah, and I'm wrapped up in a blanket I stole from my brother since my coat was in MY car.  

So I call Daddio to the rescue on his phone inside the house...which is 15 feet away...  

The knight in shining armor comes out 

and asks what in the H-E-double hockey sticks I did to not let the headlights come on (they are automatic, apparently). He leans in the car, pulls out the knob, and turns on the headlights.  At this point, I had put it back in park so the beeping had stopped.  We applaud, hoot n holla as Dad walks back inside...I put it in reverse...and the beeping continues.  I scream.  I try to put it in drive, but it won't go.  It finally dawns on me that there is a bright red light on the dash that says "BREAK" all lit up like a Christmas tree...yadda yadda yadda, the beeping stops, and we laugh our faces off. Apparently Dad had too much faith in me and had assumed I'd already released the emergency break.  He should know better. 

This reminded me of another time Dad had to help me out...(one of many, mind you...)

Let me take you back to 1997...ish...

I was either 15 or 16 (let's not lie, I drove when I didn't have a license...shhh...) and was driving the Ford Aerostar with Becky Walker. Yes, I said Ford Aerostar...an '88, to be exact. It was super sweet.  Since I was new to the whole driving thing, I nearly had a conniption when the "check engine" light came on. I thought I had done something wrong...(I mean, not that I killed it multiple times or anything...Becky do you remember when I kept killing it at the stoplight? I was half-way out in the intersection when the light turned red and everyone had to wait for Becky and I to switch places...) Yeeaaah. So. Back to my story. The check engine light was on, I didn't know what to do, so we pulled over to Becky's house and called mi padre.

Daddio seemed to think that I needed to check the oil, and told me to call him back after I did so. Piece of cake, right? So, we go and check the oil. However, I was having issues with the dip stick thingy...I called my dad and told him that I couldn't get the dip stick to go down the hole to check the oil. I was told to wiggle it around a bit, and that sometimes it just gets stuck. So, I wiggled it around a bit, but the piece of crap wouldn't move another inch. I called my dad two more times before I told him that it was stupid and that I was coming home so that he could check the stinking oil.

Daddy dearest: "What, exactly, are you doing? Tell me exactly what you did."
Me, in exasperated irritation and mocking tones (I'm very good at this...): "I took the dip-stick out of the holder, I opened the lid that said "OIL," and I put the dip stick in. What the crap do you think I did."
Daddy dearest: (Laughing hysterically)....(still laughing hysterically)...

Pretty much, he called me an idiot and informed me of the proper way to check the oil. Just for the record, Becky didn't know either. And doesn't it seem logical to check it that way??? (please humor me...)

Almost...

Over the last couple of weeks, I ALMOST...

...wet myself.  I will always be forever grateful to the outhouses located on the south side of Pena Blvd on the way to the airport.  Grody they may be, but they sure beat relieving myself in the backseat of my bro-in-law's car.  Thank you, founder of the portable toilet service.

...died of starvation.  I was sent to bed with no dinner upon arriving in Dallas for a training for work.  Okay, not really, but apparently no one else was hungry.  I, on the other hand, could not stop thinking about food, mainly because all I'd had to eat earlier that day was lettuce wraps.  I was also in a room by myself, and was oddly scared to leave it.  I finally got up enough courage at around 10 pm to go down to the lobby of the hotel, and lo-and-behold, a beacon of light shone down upon the freezer filled with frozen goodies and the fridge filled with Diet Pepsi.  It was the best $8.50 I ever spent.  A pint of ice cream (I really didn't eat the whole thing...) and a Diet Pepsi later, I was fat and happy.  

...got suckered into buying something off an infomercial.  So there I was, eating my pint and watching infomercials...  Have you heard of P90x?  Not a good idea to watch infomercials late at night.  I think they do that on purpose.  I finally came to the realization that I will never be that disciplined or motivated, nor do I want to be.  Maybe.

...lost my head.  Note to self, when sitting in aisle seat on airplane, do not fall asleep with head leaning out in aisle.  Flight attendants will show no regard for parts of body in aisle when pushing carts full of peanuts and pop.  

...saw what the guy next to me on the plane looked like.  I'm anti-social on planes.  I either bury my face in a book or fall asleep.  No exceptions.  

...cried.  Have you ever watched Extreme Makeover: House Edition???  What's the deal?  Is that their main goal, because I'm pretty sure it is.  Who knew I would cry over an old lady and her rose garden?  

...got outsmarted by a cheerleader...not that there's anything wrong with that...ahem.  Um, I don't want to talk about it, but it involved me, a cheerleader from CSU, and a paper towel dispenser...

...laughed my face off.  I'm pretty sure it was the same cheerleader (see above) at the CSU vs. WY Cowgirls game last weekend...she was cheering along with the others, throwing t-shirts to those in the crowd who were "cheering the loudest."  She chose the fan, wound up for an underhand throw, released the t-shirt...and threw it straight up in the air - to herself.  Not on purpose, mind you.  Attempt #2:  here she goes....Oh!  This time, the powerful underhand throw rocketed the t-shirt BEHIND her.  Yes, that's right, behind.  And no, that was not the location of the loudest fan.  Attempt #3.  Not making that mistake again!  She overhand throws it by stepping with the same foot as the hand that throws it, and finally launches it to, well, someone in the crowd.  Who knows who she was aiming for???

Ramblings of a delirious lass...

A few things I've learned  or observations made in the last couple of days...

- Is it me, or should this blog be entitled, The Adventures of D?

- Never try to cook pancakes and do laundry at the same time.  One will invariably forget about the pancake and then be left with something resembling...well, a burnt pancake.

- If the post-office man asks how one wants to send a package, one should tell him "the cheapest way possible," and never "it doesn't matter." If one fails to do so, post-office man may think he's funny and charge $24 to send overnight and then insist that one said "it didn't matter."  Not funny.  

- If a pop can was left overnight in vehicle during freezing temperatures, do not attempt, I repeat, do not attempt to open can and drink it, especially while still in car.  One cannot suck up the massive quantities quickly enough during the explosion.

- If one values the hairstyle one has on one's own head, one must not exit the safety of one's vehicle under ANY circumstances in Casper, WY.

- Do not put red highlights in hairdo.  It looks like crap.

- While standing at the front of the store in Borders on cellphone, one must not yell at person with whom one is speaking to on said cell phone for 10 minutes.  This will most likely cause a feeling of unease in the people, well, in the entire store.  (This was an observation, mind you.)

- Wash car more often, especially once one finds out true color of car is not, indeed, brown, but pearly white.

- If someone says, "Hi," the correct response is NOT "Good, how are you?"  One will look like a moron.

- One must not buy a box of Gushers at grocery store when one knows the entire box will be eaten in one sitting.  One must not attempt to believe the voices that say one has self-control.

- One must not fall asleep on couch at 10:00 and then get up at 11:30 to take a shower.  One will not be able to sleep and will find oneself writing delirious blogs at 1:30 in the morning...

A Christmas Miracle...

I have a mild case of road rage. Nothing serious, but on occasion, generally when I'm in a hurry, I get extremely irritated and scream a few choice words at those in the vehicles around me. I mean, seriously. Who drives 40 in a 50? 30 in a 45??? I'm getting irate just thinking about it. Especially in Denver when there are millions of people driving and some moron slowing down the flow of traffic. K, I'm done. However, I must admit that I have found myself, usually on the backroads where there's not much traffic, singing to the music and cruising a few below the speed limit...when I'm not in a hurry of course. So it's okay then...hmm...I'm learning a lot about myself as I'm typing this out....

So there I was, making a right-hand turn onto Jordan Road. I had my own turning lane...one of those where you don't have to yield but eventually have to merge in with the traffic. I wasn't necessarily in a hurry, but I did have to get home to finish packing for the trip to WY that day. The light had just turned green for the traffic that I was trying to merge with. I was ahead of them slightly, but the SUV in the front lines decided that I was not allowed to merge in front of him...even though there were plenty of vehicles behind him and I was running out of room. I love my car. It has a V6 engine and speeds up quickly when I need to...not that that happens a lot...so I speed up and get in front of him. I was kind of annoyed, so imagine my reaction as I happen to look in my rear view mirror and see this:

Yeah, you know the type of bird I'm talking about. And it's not feathery. My right hand reflex began to take on a similar shape, only, I don't know...maybe in light of the holiday season...maybe the fact that we're supposed to be following in His footsteps...I began to laugh and put my hand back on the steering wheel. The whole thing seemed ridiculous to me in that moment. It was a Christmas Miracle...

The SUV continued to stay on my tail for another couple of miles until I had to take a left. As I was pulling into the turning lane, the SUV passed me and guess what was plastered to the window in my direction...yep, you guessed it. I turned the other cheek and continued on my merry way, ignoring the raging moron while I happily kept both hands on my steering wheel. (10 & 2, right? Ever since I failed my driving test, that knowledge is burned into my mind...)

So, I guess miracles really do happen. Hope you all had a wonderful Christmas and that we (meaning I) can keep the spirit of Christmas in our hearts year-round. ;)

I had one job...

I teach the 5-year old Sunday school class.  This is my second time around...apparently, I didn't get it right the first time.  Actually, I've been in Primary since I got married.  I've done Activity Days, played the piano, taught CTR 5, and the 7-year olds (can't remember what they're called at this moment in time...)  I love Primary...well, most of the time.  During the few weeks that I did have off when we first moved into Parker, before they called me back, I was able to attend Relief Society.  And, amazingly enough, I did miss the Primary.  I didn't think I would...but, after all, there's no singing about Snowmen or Popcorn Popping in Relief Society.  There's no kids climbing in my lap or refusing to to do what I tell them to.  I don't get to color pictures of Jesus or play Hang Man (sometimes I forget 4 year-olds can't read).  However, there is one time of the year that I am anxious to get over with in the Primary.  It's called The Primary Program.  Yeah, you know the one.  When kids from the ages of 3-11 are expected to sit (quietly, mind you) for 2 hours while we get them ready for the program, week after torturous week.  Sorry, but even I cannot sit quietly for two hours...or 5 minutes...hmm...maybe I'm not the best example...

So there I was, fulfilling my duty as a Primary teacher...the kids in my class were to speak their part, then come over to me and get a picture to hold up.  It went something like this...the 1st child held a picture of Jesus.  The 2nd child held an arrow that said "Tells;" the 3rd child held a picture of the Prophet; the 4th child held another arrow with "Tells" on it.  And last, was just "Us."  So, basically, it was saying: Jesus tells the Prophet, the Prophet tells us (explaining how revelation works, right?)  We were flawless.  I was so proud of my kids.  One of the girls holding an arrow was holding it straight up and was wiggling around, but I figured that just livened up the program. There were a few laughs from the crowd, which I assumed were aimed at her.  

After church, when we got home, I asked James..."So how was the Primary Program?  Was it alright?"  To which he replied, "Good, except you had the Prophet telling Jesus what to do."  

I had one job..............looks like I might have to teach the 5 year-olds for the rest of my life.

Beet Red...

When I was younger, I used to turn beet red at the slightest embarrassment. Not so much anymore. In fact, it hardly ever happens (okay, maybe still more often than most, but comparatively speaking...) I just don't really care anymore. However, a few weeks ago I felt like I was 12 again...

KB, Devan, James and I met in Fort Collins to go shopping. I was still kind of looking around at Halloween costumes so we wandered into Hot Topic in the mall. Mmmmkay, so I'm still kind of a Twilight freak, right? So imagine my extreme giddiness when I came across this...

Naturally, I bought it, as you can see. When I brought it up to the register, there were 2 gothic-looking guys working there (imagine that - gothic, in Hot Topic???) Anyway, so I set the shirt down and one guy says "Geek."

...so I start laughing. Because believe me...I KNOW, right? Then he's like, "Here, you have to get a geeky pin if you're a true Twilighter." To which my response was something like, "Well, I must not be a true Twilight fan because I'm not getting a pin," followed by my lame laughing again.

Goth 1 or 2, can't remember: "Oh Edward! He's so hot!" (in a girly voice, mind you)

Me: hahah

Goths: "He's such a dreamy vampire," blah blah blah, on and on they mock me.

Me, in an attempt to joke around: "I love Edward!" hee

Goths: silence...

Me, trying to take focus off my beet red face: "Kara Beth, you have to get a t-shirt if you want to be as cool as me..." (fading away, because KB is not paying attention to me. I'm all alone.)

Goths: silence

Me:...

Finally, the torture is over and I make a beeline for the door. Kara Beth turns to me and says, "your face is all red." At which point I berate her for not coming to my rescue from the mean goth boys. We laugh our faces off for good 20 minutes.

K, for one, yes, I realize these books are Young Adult novels. Yes, I know I'm 26. Yes, I know I am a dork for buying a t-shirt, but that was the point. So I am not so sure why I was feeling so vulnerable to the relentless taunting that took place that day, but I can assure you that my face was a shade shy of a tomato. I am so glad I'm not a teenager anymore, because it was brutal feeling that insecure again...oh, and don't you worry, I wear that shirt all the time, and will be wearing it to the movie that is coming out 11/21/08!!! Woo!