I've been struggling. With Happiness. It is strange. I used to have a fabulous relationship with Happiness. We used to hold hands and skip through the rain and slide down moonbeams into pots of marshmallows and chocolate chips.
Lately, it seems like I don't know Happiness at all. It seems that Happiness never has time for me anymore. I've considered couple's therapy, but Happiness is being stubborn. Apparently Happiness is enjoying its new bout of elusiveness.
That was cruel. I believe, deep down inside, Happiness is as sad about our months-long struggle as I am.
And that is why the time has come. I need a Happiness Plan.
Ready, set, Happiness!
Wednesday, July 27, 2011
Sharing the Apple Love
I received this email from a coworker today:
RE: Fruit?
I require it. Desperately. I'll buy some from you at a premium price if you happen to have any. In order of preference: pear; grapes; apple; something else. My camembert and crackers are crying out.
Unfortunately (for him, not so much for me), I had already eaten my grapes for lunch. However, I did have an extra apple hanging around. As all apple lovers know, the only thing better than eating a fabulously delicious apple is sharing the apple love with somebody else.
RE: Fruit?
I require it. Desperately. I'll buy some from you at a premium price if you happen to have any. In order of preference: pear; grapes; apple; something else. My camembert and crackers are crying out.
Unfortunately (for him, not so much for me), I had already eaten my grapes for lunch. However, I did have an extra apple hanging around. As all apple lovers know, the only thing better than eating a fabulously delicious apple is sharing the apple love with somebody else.
Tuesday, July 26, 2011
My Date with the Drugged-up Disaster
Ever tried internet dating? Me neither. Well, I mean, I didn't mean to try internet dating. It just sort of happened.
It all began on a slow Thursday afternoon. You have to watch those Thursday afternoons. They're wily, little boogers. It went like this.
Fabulous Friend: I found a man for you.
Me: I'm boycotting men.
Fabulous Friend: [link to the man she found for me]
I wasn't particularly interested in this supposed man my Fabulous Friend had found for me, but I decided to take a look at the link. Turns out the man my Fabulous Friend had in mind for me has a thing for girls with green eyes and auburn hair. He instructed all girls with said qualities to email him immediately.
Green Eyes - check
Auburn hair - . . . check?
I decided to send him an email. Not that I wanted anything to do with this random internet stranger. I was boycotting men after all. But I needed to determine if I fit into the category of green-eyed, auburn-haired ladies and thus could have the satisfaction of not emailing him when I was instructed to. I wrote a quick email and attached the reference letter My Fabulous Friend was kind enough to write for me.
Dear RIS,
My fabulous friend sent me a link not long ago. In it was a question about physical traits. There were several answers but the only one of any importance at this time is yours. The link: http://theboard.byu.edu/questions/63686/. In case you wish to refresh your memory.
In it, you said I was to e-mail you immediately if I had auburn hair and green eyes. Being the amazingly obedient person that I am, I have sent you this e-mail.
There is a slight snag. I have been told before that my hair is auburn, but I believe that assessment of my hair color depends entirely on the individual. Thus, I was unsure of how to proceed. In the eyes of some I have auburn hair. In the eyes of others, it is simply brown. What, in your opinion, is auburn hair?
My fabulous friend was kind enough to write a reference letter. You will find it included below.
Thank you for taking the time to answer my question. It will be a great help.
Green Eyes
Dear Random Internet Stranger,
My friend has green eyes and auburn hair and is very keen herself. BTW she also has very soft skin. Not that I've tested it out. I will leave that to you.
Sincerely,
Another keen girl, who unfortunately does not have auburn hair or green eyes
And thus began . . . something.
My hair doesn't qualify as auburn, but this random internet stranger is an equal-opportunity dater and was a-okay with hair that might be more brown than auburn. After a few more emails and a couple of conversations, RIS and I decided to meet for ice cream.
The weekend before we had arranged to meet, my random internet stranger was playing with fire. And everybody knows that when you play with fire you get burned. My random, internet stranger spent a couple of very long days in the burn unit at the hospital. I, for some crazy reason, thought this would be reason enough to cancel. Silly me. The date was set and it wasn't changing. In the words of my random internet stranger, "This is happening."
Oh. Well, okay then. He, having felt the fires wrath, was in no state to drive so I picked him up. First impression? Bandages. Lots and lots of bandages. Thick ones. Being the snazzy man that he is, he changed the bandages before I picked him up so they were white and fluffy instead of yellowy and oozy.
Did I mention we couldn't stop moving? Apparently once he stopped he couldn't start again.
Have you tried to get to know someone in less than twenty minutes when they are in severe amounts of pain and are so focused on continuing in a forward motion that you can't even get a good look at their dimples? Try it sometime. It's fun.
And that is how I went on a very short, very . . . umm, yeah . . .
It all began on a slow Thursday afternoon. You have to watch those Thursday afternoons. They're wily, little boogers. It went like this.
Fabulous Friend: I found a man for you.
Me: I'm boycotting men.
Fabulous Friend: [link to the man she found for me]
I wasn't particularly interested in this supposed man my Fabulous Friend had found for me, but I decided to take a look at the link. Turns out the man my Fabulous Friend had in mind for me has a thing for girls with green eyes and auburn hair. He instructed all girls with said qualities to email him immediately.
Green Eyes - check
Auburn hair - . . . check?
I decided to send him an email. Not that I wanted anything to do with this random internet stranger. I was boycotting men after all. But I needed to determine if I fit into the category of green-eyed, auburn-haired ladies and thus could have the satisfaction of not emailing him when I was instructed to. I wrote a quick email and attached the reference letter My Fabulous Friend was kind enough to write for me.
Dear RIS,
My fabulous friend sent me a link not long ago. In it was a question about physical traits. There were several answers but the only one of any importance at this time is yours. The link: http://theboard.byu.edu/questions/63686/. In case you wish to refresh your memory.
In it, you said I was to e-mail you immediately if I had auburn hair and green eyes. Being the amazingly obedient person that I am, I have sent you this e-mail.
There is a slight snag. I have been told before that my hair is auburn, but I believe that assessment of my hair color depends entirely on the individual. Thus, I was unsure of how to proceed. In the eyes of some I have auburn hair. In the eyes of others, it is simply brown. What, in your opinion, is auburn hair?
My fabulous friend was kind enough to write a reference letter. You will find it included below.
Thank you for taking the time to answer my question. It will be a great help.
Green Eyes
Dear Random Internet Stranger,
My friend has green eyes and auburn hair and is very keen herself. BTW she also has very soft skin. Not that I've tested it out. I will leave that to you.
Sincerely,
Another keen girl, who unfortunately does not have auburn hair or green eyes
And thus began . . . something.
My hair doesn't qualify as auburn, but this random internet stranger is an equal-opportunity dater and was a-okay with hair that might be more brown than auburn. After a few more emails and a couple of conversations, RIS and I decided to meet for ice cream.
The weekend before we had arranged to meet, my random internet stranger was playing with fire. And everybody knows that when you play with fire you get burned. My random, internet stranger spent a couple of very long days in the burn unit at the hospital. I, for some crazy reason, thought this would be reason enough to cancel. Silly me. The date was set and it wasn't changing. In the words of my random internet stranger, "This is happening."
Oh. Well, okay then. He, having felt the fires wrath, was in no state to drive so I picked him up. First impression? Bandages. Lots and lots of bandages. Thick ones. Being the snazzy man that he is, he changed the bandages before I picked him up so they were white and fluffy instead of yellowy and oozy.
Did I mention we couldn't stop moving? Apparently once he stopped he couldn't start again.
Have you tried to get to know someone in less than twenty minutes when they are in severe amounts of pain and are so focused on continuing in a forward motion that you can't even get a good look at their dimples? Try it sometime. It's fun.
And that is how I went on a very short, very . . . umm, yeah . . .
Wednesday, July 13, 2011
Strawberry Cake
I've been trying to get Ma to join a CSA for years. No exaggeration. We love fresh produce and go through a lot of it. We also enjoy trying new things and finding new recipes. It seemed like a great idea. Fresh produce for less, all of it locally grown and picked just for you at the perfect time. What about this isn't a good idea?
Her answer: "No."
Not even an "I'll think about it," or an "That might be fun, but not right now."
After years of fruitless badgering and enthusiastic "Hey, won't this be a good idea!"'s, I couldn't take it anymore. I gave up. I resigned myself to not joining a CSA till I was grown enough to do it on my own (not that I couldn't now--it's just very likely that the position I am in life right now, were I to join a CSA on my own, much of the food I got would go bad before I got a chance to eat it).
Ma's dear friend Yinda has been exploring the different options you can get with a CSA for several years now. Recently, she switched to getting her produce through Bountiful Baskets. You sign up at the beginning of the week (instead of signing up for a season or a year with a CSA), and pick up your bountiful basket at the pick-up location of your choice on the weekend.
It was only a couple of Mondays ago that I wandered downstairs to find Ma and dear friend Yinda hunched over the computer discussing the pros and cons of sticking with the regular basket or getting the add-on basket.
I was shocked. I couldn't believe it. Here was my Ma, getting herself a bountiful basket. I told her I found her behavior somewhat traitorous.
Her response: "I don't remember talking with you about this."
Hm.
I loved our bountiful basket. So many delicious things. We still haven't used it all and it's been two weeks. I just managed to use up the five pounds of strawberries we got. I made this. And it was even more delicious than it looks. I definitely recommend.
Yay for bountiful baskets!
Her answer: "No."
Not even an "I'll think about it," or an "That might be fun, but not right now."
After years of fruitless badgering and enthusiastic "Hey, won't this be a good idea!"'s, I couldn't take it anymore. I gave up. I resigned myself to not joining a CSA till I was grown enough to do it on my own (not that I couldn't now--it's just very likely that the position I am in life right now, were I to join a CSA on my own, much of the food I got would go bad before I got a chance to eat it).
Ma's dear friend Yinda has been exploring the different options you can get with a CSA for several years now. Recently, she switched to getting her produce through Bountiful Baskets. You sign up at the beginning of the week (instead of signing up for a season or a year with a CSA), and pick up your bountiful basket at the pick-up location of your choice on the weekend.
It was only a couple of Mondays ago that I wandered downstairs to find Ma and dear friend Yinda hunched over the computer discussing the pros and cons of sticking with the regular basket or getting the add-on basket.
I was shocked. I couldn't believe it. Here was my Ma, getting herself a bountiful basket. I told her I found her behavior somewhat traitorous.
Her response: "I don't remember talking with you about this."
Hm.
I loved our bountiful basket. So many delicious things. We still haven't used it all and it's been two weeks. I just managed to use up the five pounds of strawberries we got. I made this. And it was even more delicious than it looks. I definitely recommend.
Yay for bountiful baskets!
Tuesday, July 12, 2011
Books 13-15
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