Thursday, March 29, 2007
LAME: It just now occurred to me, as in TODAY, that there is a week and a half left of this semester. I’m not even in classes, and that freaks me out.
LOVELY: That also means that I only have to work at Taco Hell—beg pardon, Taco BELL for just 7 more short days! And then no more fast food industry for me.
LAME: I owe rent still.
LOVELY: Ok, only sort of lovely, but the managers are paying me $10 an hour off my rent still owing to re-paint one of the bathrooms. I got like $75 off. And the bathroom looks good.
LAME: Not sure if Hawai’i is going to work out for this vacation. It might for the END of the summer, but I think its sort of falling through.
LOVELY: We’re still going on an adventure! We just don’t know where yet.
LAME: Even after the semester is over, there’s still a month before Playmill rehearsals start.
LOVELY: But Roger hired me to come up early with a handful of others to help clean up, organize, and get ready for the summer! I love the Playmill.
LAME: I’m going to be really busy the next week or so.
LOVELY: Part of that being busy will be training for a new job! I am officially hired as the theatre script librarian for the fall and winter next year! I talked to Judy (theatre office secretary) about it now, so that the spot could be open for me when I return to school, and she worked it out perfectly. I get trained for 3 days over the next week and a half for the PERFECT job during school! It’s a job I can keep throughout the rest of my schooling here at BYU-I, and it’s $6.50 an hour at really flexible hours (around 20 a week) in my own little niche of the theatre department, at a desk that’s not too busy, where I can be surrounded by theatre all day and work on homework. How grateful I am!
LAME: I still gotta fill out the FAFSA. And that’s annoying.
LOVELY: I’m going to school in the fall! I had to re-apply, since I haven’t been taking classes for so long, and I was terrified I wouldn’t get back in. But I got accepted! (Re-accepted?) Classes, homework, books, and lectures, I’m so excited to be a part of you again! (That may have sounded sarcastic, but in all honesty, I really truly am ecstatic about it, and I’ve missed it so!)
LAME: There’s still no cure for cancer.
LOVELY: Daddy passed the Foreign Services exam with flying colors! After years of hard work, prayer, and perseverance, the Lord has seen fit to bless him and our family with success in this endeavor! There are still a lot of steps to this process, but he’s closer than ever to living one of his dreams working in an embassy overseas!
LAME: I just ate my last popsicle.
LOVELY: I’m surrounded by good, wonderful people whom I love dearly, and who make every day the adventure that I pray for my life to be! I hope that I can show my gratitude for the friends I have around me by being the kind of friend OTHERS can be grateful for.
Thought for the day:
"As I was kick starting my vespa tonight I kicked too hard and slammed my heel into the ground. I think I bruised it which made me think. Though we have the power to crush Satan's head, a bruised heel still hurts." --Alex Hardy
Wednesday, March 14, 2007
With the onset of the usual 1am insomnia, I've been contemplating that gem of wisdom from my sister. I think she's really got a point. Especially for we Mormon girls. Ice cream is the LDS equivalent to alcohol, it seems. I mean, think about it. Where the rest of the world says "Would you like to go get a drink somewhere?" Mormons say "Would you like to get a sundae somewhere?" The Mormon equivalent of "Shall I get us something to drink?" is quite obviously "Would you like some ice-cream?"
Not that ice-cream is inherently harmful, like alcohol is generally considered. But think about it, girls. It's a well-known proverb that the way to a man's heart is through his stomach, a truth which we women have been using against the menfolk for years. But them men, they're more subtle-like. It seems that as women in general, we automatically feel a greater sense of appreciation for a man who offers us ice cream. Not always a swell of romantic affection, but we certainly hold the fellow in higher esteem.
But should we really be using a dairy product to measure a man's character by? Could this perhaps be a tool being used against us? Is ice cream being used to cloud our judgment? Are we being seduced at the hands of an ice cream scoop? (Perhaps that metaphor should be withdrawn; it doesn't ring quite right.)
If a boy asks you over to his place to discuss the latest political situation over bowls of neopolitan, perhaps you should ask him to make his intentions clear. Ice cream can of course, be accepted from fathers, no strings attached.
There have been cases, I am sure, when a normally reasonable, clairvoyant and intelligent young woman, with traces of Rocky Road on her lips, has looked at the young man who bestowed it on her and thought "You know, Gerald really isn't that bad-looking of a boy. Perhaps I shall go to the dance with him like he asked." Would she really have thought that without the bowl of chocolatey, marshmallowy, almondy goodness in front of her. Perhaps. But perhaps not.
Have you been this young woman? Have you been enticed by the subtle use of frozen dairy? Have you been seduced by a man wielding an ice-cream scoop? Have there been times when you woke the next morning from an ice-cream overdose and think back to the things you said the night before and wonder if what you were thinking really made that much sense at the time?
(Furthermore, have there been times when you woke the next morning from writing a blog and think back to the things you said the night before and wonder if what you were thinking really made that much sense at the time? I suppose that's the real question here...)