Tales of Wit and Charm…

How do you cure klutziness? Is there a magic pill or mind relaxation tapes?

I’m constantly in a rush. I love the concept of time, but I just don’t grasp it. I’m constantly late. I was born two weeks late and it sorta stuck with me for life. I always wanted to be considered a “lifer” but for something other than being punctually-challenged.

Between constantly rushing and my natural klutz-like behavior I’m getting hurt a lot. Until now it’s just been slight bruising, and the occasional paper cut. Yesterday it was slightly more serious–I burnt my right boob. Yes, seriously.

I was rushing while getting ready for work. I like to do things in order: shower, get dressed THEN do my hair. I should have known mixing the order up would result in harm. I hadn’t decided what I wanted to wear so I was curling my hair in panties only. (Can we please not go there? Thanks!) Being my klutzy self I dropped my curling iron, and of course it rolled down my chest, leaving me with a zebra stripe looking burn. Don’t get me wrong, I love animal print but usually just on shoes–not human flesh, especially my flesh.

Dear Mom,

Happy Birthday! This year for your birthday I’ve given you the gift of eternal youth. “How,” you ask? I’m not posting your real age for the entire world to read. That’s how much I love you!

I’m extremely lucky to be your daughter. You’re everything I’m not: sweet, kind and caring. I have these traits somewhere inside of me, I just choose to share them with people I care about, not everyone like you do. I’ve always admired that about you—your ability to care about anyone and everyone you meet.

You’ve been such an amazing influence on my life. You’ve always been tremendously supportive of my creativity and I will eternally be grateful for that. I know at times it wasn’t easy. Like the time I painted the cat because I wanted to be an artist, or the time I faked sick for an entire week at age eight so I could stay home and write the next bestseller, or the time I told my primary class I wanted to be a prostitute when I grew up because I wanted to play with boys all day and get presents. You have the patience of an angel, and I’ll always love you for that.

I hate change and I think I’m finally at a point in my life I don’t freak out and need you every time said change happens. That makes me happy and sad at the same time. I loved being able to call you night or day and knowing that just hearing your voice will make everything okay… and it always was. You’ve been a magnificent mother and I can’t imagine a life without you. You’ve always been there for me and that is the best feeling in the world.

I know I didn’t turn out the way you’d hoped. I gave up long ago the belief system you hold dear, but Mom, you’re what I hold dear and I’ll never ever give that up. You’ll always be my Mommy.

I love you!

Love,
Your Princess

What you see here is something quite spectacular. It’s my first bar membership in Provo. Yes, Provo. I’m very proud of this little guy and plan to add him to my scrapbook right away. Now I just need to learn how to scrapbook.

When I gave Ben the thumbs up to get hair extensions thinking he’d never score a girlfriend this isn’t what I expected:Not only did my grand master plan to prevent bitchy sister-in-laws fail, now I’ll never go out in public with him again. I don’t know if he considers that a good or bad thing.

I always find the best shopping finds when I go with my Aimee. Today was no different.

I’ve never had an interest in learning to cook. In fact, I’ve built a life around the avoidance of being barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen. Yet, in one day my entire belief system has changed! I found this pan and suddenly I want to know how to use it. The barefoot and pregnant thing is going to have to wait. I like shoes too much to give them up just yet.

Maddie and I went to Cotton Bottom for garlic burgers yesterday. Maddie, being new in town, hadn’t been yet. Sofi recommended she go, so we met there for lunch. Now, a day later, still burping garlic I remember why I don’t eat there often.

While sitting at the bar we couldn’t help but notice a man sitting near us reading a book. Now there’s nothing wrong with going out alone and taking a book rather than a date. In fact, I’ve been on plenty of dates where I wish I had a book rather than a date. It was the book he choice that freaked us out:
That’s the kind of reading to do at home. In public maybe something a little lighter would have been a better idea… just a thought.