happy candy day!

Sometimes I wonder if anyone actually reads this.
I mean, it's just one girl's silly blog, so it's not a big deal.

But sometimes, I get this big influx of page-views, and....
nothing.

No comments, no likes, nothing.
Talk about a confidence-boost. Maybe it's just the robot computers scrolling through the pages.

(and noo, it's not just me viewing my own blog repeatedly. I've checked. haha, that would be so silly and sad.)

Anyways, enough whining.

Life goes on, and today is a great day! Know why?

IT IS CANDY ON SALE DAY. It happens twice a year. The day after Halloween and the day after Valentines. Both are good days to go shopping.

Yesterday, single people everywhere were whining about not having someone to buy them heart-themed, overpriced gifts.

I can only imagine their thinking:

But I want a giant white teddy bear! What would I do with it? No idea. But I want onnnne!  

Today all people can rejoice together and celebrate the wonderfulness that is clearance.

 Clearance brings people together.
Usually it's a good thing.
Unless there's only one bag of chocolate left...then things don't work out so well.

of movies and annoying other people

When Shrek first came out, I was an immediate fan.

I memorized the whole movie.

Shrek was one of those movies I could watch over and over and over without getting bored.
The fact that I could watch it over and over may have had to do with the fact that I was 8 when the movie came out, and 8 year olds are the masters of repetition.
Case in point, I was good at singing "the song that never ends"
annnnd the worm poem:
"Worms? I hate worms! 
They drive me Crazy!! 
Crazy?
 I was crazy once. 
They locked me up in a padded room and gave me nothing to eat but WORMS. 
Worms? 
I hate worms! 
They drive me Crazy. 
Crazy?
 I was crazy once..."
and so on and so forth. I'd say it until everyone told me to sit in my padded room. Juuuust kidding, you guys.

Anyways, back to the story, my friend and I would pop in the Shrek DVD, put it on mute, and quote the lines verbatim. 

Yes, I was that nerdy. But it was great fun. 

When I watch my favorite movies, especially with friends, I quote them.

Sooo, if you're one of those people who must watch movies without any commentary, I'm sorry.
Even with movies I've never seen, I'm apt to point out the plot holes and make remarks.
But I try to be sensitive to the people around me.
I don't yell at the screen. I'm not quite *that* bad, though I might whisper a snarky comment or two to the person beside me.

What fun is a movie if you can't make fun of it?

And that is my post for today. 

Fairy tales have always been my favorite kind of story--especially witty fairy tales. 

A worthwhile trip

I let myself be a bum this morning,
because I'm celebrating the fact that I AM DONE WITH HIGH SCHOOL FOREVER!! 
I think that's good reason to be a sloth.

After sleeping in until the luxurious hour of 9:40,
I made coffee
(a relationship/addiction that I might just have to break again...See this post or this post or even this post to see what a struggle I've had with that magic bean) and I did other fun/chillaxing stuff.

Enough about that.
Back to what I promised in the past post about local commercials.

So, this weekend I went to a pickle festival, which doesn't sound very appealing, I know. To me, it sounded like it would be an entertaining event.
While I wouldn't normally make a long trip for something so trivial as pickles, my parents were riding in the 'Tour de Pickle', and I wanted to show some support.
Plus, I like road trips.

It was a fun and a unique experience.
If you know me, you might know that I love to observe other cultures. Eastern NC is no exception.

While my parents were riding their bikes, I, armed with my nikon, strolled the festival grounds.
My professional-looking nikon automatically made people assume that I was a serious photographer.
I got the question "Are you a photographer?" many times.
How does one properly answer a question like that?
On one hand, I have a camera and I'm taking pictures. What else would I be other than a photographer?

But, I knew what they meant. Basically, "Hey lady with the camera, am I gonna be on the front page of the paper?"
To me a photographer is someone who takes photographs. Therefore, I am a photographer. Just not the famous/paid kind.

After my parents had finished their bike ride, we swung by McDonald's to get our unsweet tea fix. [sweet tea is just gross syrup. Seriously, ew. ...I'm like an counter-southerner who so happens to be a fifth-generation (at least) southerner]
While we were at the Mcdonald's, I looked around the shopping center.

There was a Yummy Orient:

There was a Super Mercado:

There was a coin laundry and a chinese take-out.

Then, I saw it.

Bobby Denning's.

The one from this clip.




Being the nerd that I am, I HAD to go take a picture in front of the building.

Then we decided to go inside, and check it out. How could we resist? I mean, they had SCOOTERS.

So, we walked in, and perused the inventory.
There were some nice things, but in the bargain center, there were some very unique things.
(In a good way unique.)
Like a room divider with colonial people painted on it, a tv from the 70's, and...

these plates that I bought. They were so groovy, I couldn't resist. I mean, they're made out of glass and leather. ...I'll find a good use for them.

Okay, so when I went to purchase the plates, I told the nice lady at the register that I had seen their youtube video, and I was a fan.

She told me that I could meet the Bobby Denning and Mrs. Denning if I liked. Of course I said yes.

They were really nice people, and after talking for a bit, we took a picture together.

This is the amazing part: Mr. Denning has muscular dystrophy.
He's been in a wheelchair since he was 12, and yet he is running his multifarious business. He can't move his arms or legs, but he's still trucking along.
Talk about inspiring!!

His wife was terribly sweet, and as I was leaving, she said that my visit had made her day. That visit made my day, too.

Before I left, they gave me a ball cap and a yardstick advertising Bobby Denning's. I was a very happy camper.

So, if you need a scooter, or a couch, or pretty much anything, and you happen to be in Mt. Olive, do go to Bobby Denning's.

Also, I saw this in a field, and I'm considering calling them up. I've always wanted to be on the radio...hehe

"WJDS RADIO
1430 AM SINCE 1960
START YOUR PROGRAM
LOW TIME PRICES
CALL ..."

priorities

I have much to share. SO much random blathering to be typed.
I'm sure you're just thrilled.
yay.

So it's a date! I promise a long relatively interesting post soon.

It'll be good.

But, first, I must run.
THEN, I'll blog.

...it's all about priorities, people.

...whatever 'priorities' are...

of pickles and small talk

One of the most-asked questions that I should know the answer to:

"So, what are your hobbies?"

You know, I'm really bad at answering that question.

I have plenty of activities I enjoy; I dabble in a lot of different areas. Really, I have a life
(the need to say that I have a life kinda makes it sound like I don't. But I do. Really. Tomorrow, I'm going to a pickle festival. I mean, how much more happening can I be?)

• I don't really like to tell people that I'm into photography, because then they might think I'm actually good at it.

• I don't want to tell them my thing is running, because, frankly, I'm not phenomenal at that either.

• I don't want to say that it's playing music, because I'm not the next Bach or Mozart. (and def not Jimi Hendrix, since it's the guitar that I have a thing for.) 

• I don't want to say reading. For obvious reasons.

• Coffee does not count as a hobby, sadly. 

• I don't mind saying cooking, because I can cook. But usually, I'm not thinking about cooking when the question is asked. 

• If I say I'm all into blogging, well, that statement is unreliable. I've said "well, I really like blogging" before, and the responses have been varied; from blank-expression-meaning-oh-you-must-be-a-real-nerd-I'm-walking-away-now  to "ooh, what's your url?" 

It's hit or miss with the bringing up of blogging.

• Thrift store shopping? Yes, that's a hobby. It's a fun hobby, but it sounds like a strange thing to say. It makes me sound like one of those ...weird people. 

Most of the things I like to do are not things I care to brag on myself about.
Like most normal people, I don't really like bragging on myself. I like to be bragged about, sure. Self-promotion isn't really my thing.
...Yet I still do it, without meaning to.
I don't understand. Silly ego.

The above-listed activities are all things that I really enjoy, and maybe someday I'll be good at them.

Why do I worry so much, thinking that saying I like to do something will make people have unreal expectations/perceptions about me?

Honestly, I can only attribute it to the fact that I'm an overachiever (...believe it or not)
I have high standards for myself.
I'm working on becoming more accepting of the fact that I'm not the best at everything. It's tough, you know? (said with tongue in cheek)

But when that dreaded question is asked, I never can remember that it isn't, "what are you good at? I'm going to judge you based on your answers." 

It's just, "what are your hobbies? I think we could be friends/have a real conversation that isn't boring if you bring something up that sparks my interest, too."

IF I keep that in mind, then I can blab.

Plus, usually when people ask that, it's just small talk. In one ear and out the other. Easily forgotten. 

Hey, I could say I enjoyed being a matador in my free time. 

...I wonder how that would go over... 

ok, I have to sleep so I can be well-rested for the pickle festival. 

No, I wasn't kidding about that. 

It's a real thing:

 

...I'll let you know how it goes. I think I might be eating some pickles. 

A wedding. A posh wedding

Everyone is talking about the royal wedding.
EVERYONE.
I know, I know, it's just a wedding. Or so I've been told.

But I'm a girl.

This wedding happened at 5am my time, so, needless to say, I didn't watch it live.
I am watching the rebroadcast...it's on youtube.

What a wonderful age we live in, to see things at our leisure. You can watch it here: the royal channel

I just so happen to love weddings. Of practically every sort.

Okay, maybe not the ones officiated by an elvis wanna-be:

There's a wedding for every kind of person, I suppose.

As one of those children raised on fairy tales, I especially like weddings with royalty.
Back in the day, royalty seemed like another breed of humanity. The kind of people who had it embedded in their genetic code to live happily ever after.
I can remember when I realized that royals were mere humans -- well, mere humans who wielded power.  It was a let down. It was comforting, too, since I wasn't born of royalty.

Anyways, as I watch this wedding, I'm amazed.
I don't think I could handle all of that pomp.
And after the ceremony? To have to smile and wave and wave and smile?
Watching them makes me feel so tired. The hoards of people, all cheering, whom you need to wave at?
I think it could be fun, for all of five minutes.
These people are having to smile for what seems like ages.
Their poor cheeks. They must have practiced. It was a good 20 minutes of smiling and waving.
It must be hard to know that every thing you do is being scrutinized.
To know that millions of eyes are watching you. One goof, and you're all over the tabloids.
What a great deal of pressure.
I suppose it's a blessing and a curse.

I swear, I saw one person in the procession picking their nose! ...maybe that's acceptable in the UK.

Did I mention that these English people are so cute and quaint? They really are.

And just in case I need my idea of what a princess should be utterly shattered, check out these real-live princesses: Princess Eugenie of York and Princess Beatrice of York

The definition of what a princess wears on her head has certainly changed... 

Anyways, it was a lovely wedding, and a lovely use of an hour of my life. 

You know I have nothing better to do. Absolutely nothing. 

Heh, I wish... 

off to productivity! 

Thoughts from the roadrunner part three (the ramblingest yet!)

I'm going to wrap the mini-series on half-marathons up now. It's about time!

We are ready to goooo! 

So, we went to the starting line. There was NO ORDER. Masses of people just swarmed together; there was a bit of pushing and shoving and "excuse me"'s.
The countdown timer to the start of the race hit zero.
Nothing happened.
A minute passed.
I tied my shoes.
Still nothing, just people standing expectantly.
Finally a guy with a bullhorn said, "Get Ready Racers! Go!" He also mumbled some other things, but no one could understand him. Hopefully it wasn't anything important, like the winning lotto numbers for the next day...

And we went. When you first start, you want to start strong. But you can't run. You have to just walk with the mass of humanity for about a 1/4 mile, and THEN you can actually run.

The main challenge is to pace. Pacing is a terribly difficult thing. At the start, people are sprinting and flying down the road. I wanted to sprint just like everyone else was, but I knew that I'd need energy for the next 13 miles.

less than 24 hours...

I'm not a super-runner, okay?
I never meant to be one of those running nerds.
...Way back in 8th grade, for volleyball conditioning, I was supposed to run 30 whole minutes.
I. thought. I. would. die.
(I didn't, but it was tough)
Thirty minutes feel like an eternity when you're first running.
After volleyball season ended, I kinda gave up on the whole running thing. I liked other activities, so I was fine.
Three years ago, something happened. My mom signed up for a half marathon. She got into training, and this urged me to try running out seriously.
I wasn't horribly out-of-shape, I just wasn't conditioned to endurance run.
It took forever a very long time (I exaggerate, sorry) for me to build up to being able to go many miles without stopping.
But I was still a "newbie".

I now have something in my possession that no longer makes me a n00b.
Some of my past posts may make you think that I'm some running nut, maybe that I'm obsessed.
Maybe I go a bit too far with running. This is a lie. I have a love/hate relationship with running.
Now, well, running and I have made it official.

How? Expensive running shoes?

Yup, these are $$$ shoes. They're really wonderful and orange....very orange.

While that IS a sign of commitment, that doesn't make me one of those runners.

Fine, I'll just say it!

...I now have a water bottle belt.
Oh. Yes.
Your estimation of my coolness must have dropped by about 20 points.

This bit of equipment says, "hey, I am committed to this sport. I really don't mind looking like a dweeb for the sake of staying hydrated."


And guess what? It's totally true.
I love this belt.
While others may snicker at first, I'll be the one laughing as I pull out a fun-size snicker's bar and devour it for energy, thanks to the handy-dandy pocket on the belt.

(I tell myself that it's a stepping stone to the batman utility belt...)
...
I do think I've learned things from running that have spilled over  to other parts of my life...but I don't feel like turning into a motivational speaker right now. Maybe later I'll do an inspiring running post.
...
The half-marathon is tomorrow (!!!) and hopefully, I'll have a lovely experience.
I have a tiny voice whispering to me that I might die.
Or that I might pass out, and then die from embarrassment.
I doubt that will happen...it's not probable...
Either way, I'll let you know how it goes.

Here's one of my favorite passages right now; it gives me an excited thrill to think that God is so amazing, gracious, and loving. He's also the ultimate energy source.
Especially as I'm in that "figure out where I'm going" part of my life (Isaiah 40:27-31):

27 Why do you complain, Jacob?    Why do you say, Israel, “My way is hidden from the LORD;    my cause is disregarded by my God”? 28  Do you not know?    Have you not heard? The LORD is the everlasting God,    the Creator of the ends of the earth. He will not grow tired or weary,    and his understanding no one can fathom. ²⁹ He gives strength to the weary    and increases the power of the weak. ³⁰ Even youths grow tired and weary,    and young men stumble and fall; ³¹ but those who hope in the LORD    will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles;    they will run and not grow weary,    they will walk and not be faint.

a semi-embarrassing truth about me

Ayy Blog.
while this blogging thing is becoming a habit, I'm realizing I need to form other habits too.
Namely, the ability to realize that I don't have to be perfect at everything.


Reader, stop it. I know you're rolling your eyes.


I have it in my head that I can be perfect. I think that maybe it's possible.
Yet it never works out.

Ready for a semi-embarrassing story/fact about me?
*sigh* Here goes:

Serious Rambling

Since I said I would, (and I'm a girl of my word) to commemorate my blog's belated anniversary, I'm going to do a top ten of the things running through my mind.

...you may not want to read this. I warn you that it may not make coherent sense.

You've been warned.

WHAT'S ON MY MIND:

*insert inspiring quote*

I quite agree with what J.R.R. Tolkien had to say about critics, even though he was referring to an actual published book and not a blog. It still works, at any rate:

"Some who have read it,
or at any rate reviewed it,
      have found it boring, absurd, or contemptible;
and
I have no cause to complain,
              for I have similar opinions of their works, or of the kind of writing that they evidently prefer."

Way to stick it to the man, J.R.R.!

Updated: This about sums me up

(Blogger was being a goober yesterday, as I thought I could schedule a post and not write anything today...but it didn't work out. So, I've updated today's post) 


I've taken the ORA personality test about four times over the past two years. My results have always been VERY similar, if not the same. I figure that the fourth time should be the charm for me. 


The test decided that I was extroverted. I've always considered myself a very social introvert. Well, when it comes to my emotions, I'm an introvert. A MAJOR introvert. But I guess I seem extroverted-ish, in the fact that I talk to other humans. 
It also decided that I was intuitive, thinking and organizing. Whatever that means.


I've been stuck in a box by the man. 


Here's what the profilers have to say about me. 

LISTS are fun. Yes they are.

It's FRIDAY!

Cue happy music.

Of all of the days of the week, Friday is the most hopeful day.

Doing anything on a Friday is easy. I'm always thinking in the back of my mind, "ahh, I can work hard on this today, because tomorrow? Tomorrow is Saturday."


Everyone knows Saturdays are the best days. (Sundays are great, too, but they're always oh-so busy.)

Last Saturday, I went contra-dancing. It was a blast. I have no idea how I'm going to one-up last Saturday in terms of fun.
...I'll think of something. I can assure you, it will be something not soon forgotten [inagoodway]

SO, I've decided to learn some nerdy things; lately I've been feeling much too "normal".
Ahem, here is my running list of what makes me a geek {ohhh, BAD BAD idea}:

umm?

I thought physics was going to be a walk in the park.

NOPE.

I don't know why I have to care about the magnitude and direction of point charges. I really, really, don't.


I think it'd be lovely to be a genius, and know things without even having to apply myself.
But then some other element of my personality would suffer.
Life always seems to go that way. Most geniuses have major social handicaps...I don't need any of those, thank you. I'll just be like everyone else and study hard.

I do think if you read this, you should rate it an "umm?"
I'm feeling that way about this post myself.

Time for homework...

Da na na na na MATHMAN!!!

I'm wired in such a way that standardized tests and I get along very well.
Maybe it's a personality thing. Or maybe it's my learning style. Either way, I'm always pleasantly surprised when I get my results.

On my tests, there is one area that I don't do as well on:

Math. 

Yuck.

{Want to know a secret? Math people intimidate me. I'm amazed by them. They're like a different species...}

 My brain is bent towards literary things.
Give me a book? A poem? I'm golden.
Tell me to do some sort of math? I'm like molasses. I made it through pre-calc, and I have a feeling calculus is coming...

Save me, Math-Man!

(...if only there was such a superhero. He could use his brain power to transfer math knowledge into my cranium)

I DID learn how to extract square roots without the aid of a calculator this week. *cough*I was reminded how to do them*cough, cough* After mastering it, I felt a mixture of triumph and stupidity. After all, it was in my younger sister's math book.
But now, if someone says, "Extract the square root of 1764.", I can easily say that the square root is 42, without using a calculator!

Although I have an obvious distaste for math, I have been trained to use proper grammar. I usually do. I'm by no means the know-all, so don't start picking me apart, please.

...logs and specks and all that. (you know, Matthew 7)

My brain is analytical, and sensitive to mistakes. (Mistakes of a grammatical nature, that is.)

Are you like this too? Am I alone?

I'm ESPECIALLY sensitive when the mistake is something along the lines of misusing your/you're, to/too, it's/its, their/there/they're, or another word combo that should have (note that I did not say should of) been learned in elementary school.

I think there must be a special "interwebs grammar code", of which I am unaware.

I wish someone had let me in on the joke.

 And yes, grammar-honks, I know this blog is rife with error. It helps to keep me humble.

(I don't mind you telling me if I have made an error, so long as you're nice about it...and throw in some compliments... I won't be offended, I promise. I'd actually appreciate it. I love compliments)

If there is indeed a different grammar code for the internet, would someone please let me know?

You. Are. Adorable.

My post for today:
I like your boots, are you in a gang?



and the amazing follow-up translation video:

Greetings Starshine, The Earth Says Hello!

Hello dear reader,

You are indeed dear to me for reading my garbled mess of the English language over spending your time on a more productive endeavor.

I commend you.

I trust you had a happy Christmas!


I did, and I am positively wowed by the love lavished on me in gift form. If ever you want to show me you care, give me something. Wow, that came out wrong.

Gifts are wonderful, but it's the thought behind them that makes gifts especially special.

The thing that has me terribly ecstatic is the gift from my parents. It's a new Nikon digital slr (no wimpy point and shoot for me anymore!)

I have been CAMERA DEPRIVED for the past five months.
I have been bereaved ever since my sony camera DIED. It was DEAD after one year of faithfully taking pictures. My warranty expired and the machine went kaput. It's the sony conspiracy...


It's been a rough few months. I have a webcam, but that is SO not the same.

See, I have this itch, deep down, to capture things in picture form.
I'm terribly addicted.

(I worry that I have a compulsive tendency to easily become addicted to things I love. Coffee, picture-taking, etc...)

Capturing normal things in unique ways feels like a creative project I can handle.

Not that I'm an amazing photographer, but I admit, I love everything about setting up the shot, what with fixing the lighting, the angle, the zoom, the softness of the background... blah blah blah. I'd throw in some techie terms, but I'm afraid of misusing them. I'm not up to that level yet.

I'll soon be a total camera geek, but it's taking time. The last cameras I owned were simple point and shoots. They took good pictures, but my options were limited.

Not anymore.

The other gifts I've gotten have been wonderful. My Mimi knows me so well. She gave me my own four-cup coffee maker. I am LOVING it, and it will get many long years of use, I promise. She also gave me a Monet umbrella. I'm going to learn some umbrella choreography. You know the whole singing in the rain thing? Yes, that will be me.

I don't want this to become a list of gifts I've received, since that may bore you, but allow me to mention a few more things:

My Gram put together albums for each of my sisters (and me) The albums start from birth and go all the way up until now. That was quite a bit of work on her part. I love it.

My cousins gave me a coffee mug. It's PERFECT.
You may have been living under a rock, but just so you know, I love coffee. It's a tervis tumbler, no less, and it has my name inscribed in it.

I could go on and tell you about the cute owl pajamas from my sister, and chocolate/pampering supplies from the other sister...but I'm going to move on.

Before I do move on, let me tell you about my sing-a-ma-jig. It's so fun. Everyone needs one. (don't know what they are? click here to visit their website...hey look, free advertising!)


To top everything off, we had glorious SNOW on Christmas evening!

This weekend has been busier than expected. We traveled quite a bit, and I am so very relieved to be home before life starts back up again.
At noon on Christmas day, we went to the mountian-y area to visit with my Aunt, Uncle, Mimi, and cousins. We hung out until this morning, and then we drove over to my Gram's and Granddad's for another Christmas dinner.

Now we have driven home, and I'm going to go get snuggled under my purple down comforter and rest so I can take pictures and build snowmen tomorrow.

It's a beautiful night for a moondance

it really is. It's frigid outside, but it is crisp and clear.

The moon tonight is like a spotlight. The stars seem to twinkle all the brighter.
It's like the heavens knew there was going to be a show. They came prepared.

Ever so slowly, it is happening. The Earth is eclipsing the moon.

This eclipse is supposedly really unique.
Why am I posting on my blog instead of viewing this beautiful sight? Well, I've seen part of it, and someday, if I ever need a conversation topic, I might bring this up.

"Yeah, I saw that really special lunar eclipse that only happens every 400 years or so on the winter solstice.
Well, I saw half of it. The other half I spent sleeping....and there's a good reason..."

and then I'd delve into why I was so sleepy. (A good story)

But that hasn't happened yet. I'm really sleepy, so I shall sleep and worry about this silly blog later.
I had a great post in mind, but it will have to wait. This sleepiness is overwhelming.

I'm so sleepy that I'm afraid I'll forget tonight ever happened. Thus, I'm posting on my blog to remember that I DID see the super special lunar eclipse.

a small reminder of youth

On Wednesday, I participated in a conversation that was most humorous. I was talking with two 9 year old boys (O and B), and another adult.

Adult (to boys) : So, what do you want to be when you are older? A doctor, maybe? 

O: No, not a doctor! That's boring. I'm going to be an agent. 

Me: An agent? ...like a secret agent? 

O: Yeah! With the cool weapons and gadgets. I'll kill people. 

Adult: Kill people? Ugh, that does not sound good at all. I don't think that's a good job...

O: Well, I only kill the bad guys. I'm good at it. 

Adult: I guess that's better. That's still a dangerous job. Your wife will worry all of the time about you when you're on missions. 

O: What? A wife?!? I'm NEVER getting a wife. BLECH. 

Me: Why not? 

O: Because getting married means you have to be around a girl. 

B: Yeah, that is SO GROSS. 

O: You have to say you love her and act like you like her. ewwwww!

B: and then there's kissing on the lips! You have to kiss her on the lips. Groooosssss, gross, gross. I would NEVER do that. I never want a wife.

O: Ewwww, kissing on the lips! Never!

We changed the subject. 

Parades & Postponed Posting

SO.
I'm thankful. I have much to be thankful for. I'll post an exhaustive list sometime. It will require a lot of scrolling on your part. Be prepared.

But what I am thankful for now is the fact that I exaggerated a bit when I said I had mono. I was wrong.

I don't have it.
It feels like I'm in a never-ending cycle of sickness. It is sickness that won't go away, but it isn't mono. Turns out, the symptoms of mono line up with the symptoms of other viruses to a certain degree...


I'm on the dramatic side of things, just in case you didn't notice.

So, I just have a never-ending cold that is turning into a sinus infection.
I know everyone reading this is rejoicing with me.


I'll try not to be so hyperbolic in the future.



SO YOU NEED TO KNOW ABOUT ME. That's why you're here. To read about the inane happenings in my life, right?

Right.


The classic country song by Toby Keith is coming to mind.

(I'm getting back into that kind of twangy music. I thought I very muchly disliked it. I was wrong. It's a love/hate thing. Right now, I *heart* Brad Paisley. Tomorrow, who knows?)

You know that song, "I Wanna Talk About Me"?
(Everyone knows that one. If not, look it up. You need to know it for those times when you feel self-centered.)

Well, actually, talking about me is boring to me. I already know this stuff. But I want to record these happenings for posterity. SOMEDAY, I'll look back at my old posts and...I have no idea what will happen.

An update on my life:

Saturday, I went to the local Christmas PARADE!
I didn't think I was big on parades. I was wrong {again}. I'd better not make a habit of being wrong.

Here's what I thought Saturday night. (I didn't post, because I didn't get to finish my thoughts. I fell asleep)

Saturday night aprox 9:30:

"I'm feeling like a glazed doughnut. I mean this literally.  

Sugar and wheat with a glazed expression.

Because, after a day like today, I am so wiped out.

Want to know why?

Because I can, I'll elaborate.

My mom, dad, Amy and Mrs. Sharon and I took a group of 8 kids from the nearby apartments (the same place we do homework help) to the downtown Christmas parade. None of the kids had ever been to a parade before.

To make a long story short, it was fun.

I got caught up in the child-like excitement of the parade with them. I usually take such events for granted; today the parade felt like a whole new experience. 

To sum up, I was giddy.

Ben (who is 8) kept shouting [to the floats] "WELCOME TO THE CHRISTMAS PARADE!! WELCOME!"

...can you say cute?

When the high-school marching bands would go by, a few of the kids had a dance they performed {reminiscent of the charlie brown gang}

There were very few hiccups (getting them to the bathroom in the huge crush of people was a mess (a figurative mess, thankfully)).

We had two of the them come home with us (John, 6, and Ben, 8.) since their parents were out of town that day. 

I had so much fun. I relived a small part of my childhood.

The part of my childhood that was bursting with energy, always ready to play something new. The part that would laugh and tirelessly chase after soccer balls until I reached the point of collapsing on the grass.  

If you're feeling like such a "mature adult" (I have not, but I have been lately lamenting getting old), I suggest that you take on some rambunctious kids for a few hours. It's totally refreshing (and somewhat exhausting)

So when we got Ben and John, they were only slightly worn out from the parade. Their energy tanks were still very full.

Goal: exhaust the energy tank! 

I can say "goal accomplished". We ran around the park for a few hours playing until utter exhaustion set in. The boys collapsed first, complaining that their legs were "so tired", and "they never could walk again". 

John, lying on the grass, started dragging himself to the car by grabbing fistfuls of grass. 

It was humorous. But he refused to be carried. 

Finally he let me give him a piggy-back ride to the car.  Ben tried to be a tough guy, but he ended up falling over too. He kept telling us he could "beat us up in soccer", but we proved him wrong. 

We then grabbed some burgers and hotdogs (John was adamant about eating CHICKEN) with a healthy dose of ketchup. 

Those boys can use some ketchup! They ate the equivalent of seven packs each. I was amazed. They're both originally from the Congo; I don't know if ketchup is a staple sauce there, but those boys love it!

We went home and watched a few movies, played wii, checked out Miss Makenzie's computer...."

And that's where I stopped on Saturday; I never got around to posting. Chasing after kids all day is hard work.


On Sunday, I saw the boys again. Little John told me that he was going home with me. Awww! His mom, of course, wouldn't be so happy about that...



Also, John really liked the camera feature on my computer:

He is so cute. I am so wiped out. 

As an aside:
I like being called "Miss Makenzie" by the kids I work with in homework help, kid's club, and awana.
It doesn't feel so strange to me. I thought it would weird me out.
Every time I hear "Miss Makenzie!" it makes me smile (at least on the inside).
Maybe I smile because of the ridiculous thought that I'm actually at the age of being in charge and mature.
I'm good at being in charge and bossy, (as my younger sisters will attest) yet,


I don't feel that old.