My Weirdo Running

The only thing consistent with my running is knee pain.

Which I couldn't exactly understand. I mean, I'm young! So I should be all... pain and injury free, right?

Wrong.

Apparently, I run a little.... funny. Here I thought I had good form. I was trying pretty hard. You know, strike on the right part of my foot, lift my feet up, chest and back straight.

I could not figure out why I always ended up with pain in my left knee. Its awful! And then, last night, I swallowed my pride and asked my husband to watch my running form.

Low and behold, I run... weird. I wish I could explain this... here, let me try and draw you a picture.

I never claimed to be an artist! What I am trying to explain here is that when I bring my left foot down it turns inward. And I look like a gimp. And it is not good, and doing a number on my knee.

How I did not notice this for... who knows how long... I don't know. Stephen was imitating my run, over exaggerating most definitely (or at least he better have been, or I am in worst shape than I already am), but it looked utterly ridiculous. So now I have to work on correcting that, which is going to do a number to my miles and timing. But I guess it will be worth it...

I am not the only who who does stupid stuff like this, right? I mean, now I am going to be self conscious about my weird-o running style. I can't be the only one...

(linking up with the Friendly Friday Blog Hop,  Friday Favorite Things, That Friday Blog Hop, and Friendly Friday)

Spirit of Adventure

Maybe it is cabin fever. Maybe it is my sense of adventure twitching after being shoved in a corner. And maybe it is my secret daredevil deciding that my life is just to damn boring.

I don't know.

But I feel like I have just woken up after months of hibernation. I have a need to be outdoors. I have a thirst for sunshine (it IS winter. I kind of always have this unquenchable thirst for warmth and sunshine). I want to MOVE.

I don't know if anyone remembers this post. Or if you've read why I'm blogging on my about me page. I have a fun little daily battle with my own personal monster, depression. And it has been in full swing for the past several months. I've been so busy, literally buried in things to do, combined with our freezing winter, horrible air quality and complete lack of sunshine... I've had a hard time keeping my head above water.

You can only procrastinate for so long, hide from life with TV and drown your sorrows in food. I saw my therapist last week (I highly recommend therapists, they are awesome) and this morning I woke up with fire. With hope. With the desire to go climb a mountain.

I feel alive! I want to go and do and be and LIVE. And this is a wonderful feeling after feeling numb for so long.

I'm doing all I can every day to fight back. Working out, making plans with friends, laughing with my husband and getting as much sunshine as I can (fake and real). And I think it is starting to pay off.  I am ready for adventure!

And I am SO thankful for that feeling. And to perpetuate and keep the positivity, loving-life attitude here are some big and little things I am looking forward too!

• Running a half-marathon in August with a good friend.
• Easter!
• Almost being done with the history class from hell.
• Doing THIS this summer (it is going to be EPIC)

• Seeing my brother in August (he has been gone for 18 months! AH!)
• Girls night this Saturday
• The Bachelor EVERY Monday. (don't judge, and I'm not sure what I'll do when this seasons is over!)
• Working out every night with my husband.
• Lasagna
• New books to read, and some time to actually read them!
• Watching Pitch Perfect for the fourth time (the hubs gave it to me for Valentine's Day!, I need to do a whole post on this movie...)
• Sleeping in on Saturday (it is the ONLY day of the week I get to sleep in. We have church waaaaayy to early on Sunday morning)
• Making my husband laugh.

What are you looking forward too? What are you thankful for? Is there any daredevil activities you wish you could do?

(Linking up with: It's Almost Friday Thursday Blog Hop, Black Tag Diaries, It's Ok Thursday, Thankful Thursdays)

New Series

Hey y'all, are you ready for a treat? Or at least a laugh... maybe a small chuckle?!

Well, here you go! I am posting over at Mrs. Rogers Neighborhood today all about Dating Disasters and other Embarrassing Moments. You don't want to miss this! It is all about the first time I held a boy's hand. Scandalous, no?

So, check it out! And if you like our sweet Mrs Rogers (remember this awesome post?!) then you should follow her! She is one of my bestest friends.

You Know You Married the Right Man When...

You know you married the right man when...

He holds you and doesn't even crack a smile when you cry over missing your cat that had to go to a new home 6 months ago. In fact, instead of laughing, he tells you that he understands and knows that it hurts.


He catches you using a blanket as a cape, and acts like nothing unusual is happening as you trail around the house sweeping your cape behind you.

He knows that when you crawl under the blankets and hide all the way up to your eyeballs, you are really asking for a good long cuddle and some kissing.

He recognizes your, "This is so intense!" face when you are reading a good book, and doesn't disturb you even though he really, really wants too.

He watches The Bachelor with you every week, and even gets into it enough to discuss why some girls are good and some are bad, and does it all with a straight face.


He helps you search ALL of Disneyland to find a Tinkerbell keychain with your name on it. He is the one who doesn't give up, and he doesn't complain once.

He says that you should go get pedicures with the girls every month, and you didn't even say anything to coerce him into saying it.

He makes you choose because he knows that you hate choosing out of fear you'll pick something no one else likes. He knows that you never get to go where you want, so even though you curse when he makes you choose, you finally get to eat where you want too.

He scrapes your car when he can in the morning, cause he knows how much you detest scraping your car windows in the cold morning.

He lets you interrupt his homework so that you can sit on his lap and very seriously tell him, "Winter is going to kill me. And I am starving to death." Even though he knows you'll live and you just ate a sandwich, it just wasn't very tasty.

He goes to Target for something, and comes back with a cute dress for you. "Just because."

I could go on and on and on. But these are just a few reasons why I know I married the right man.



How do you know you found the right guy for you?

(Linking up with: It's Almost Friday Thursday Blog Hop, Black Tag Diaries, It's Ok Thursday,)

Lovey Dovey Crap

In case you haven't noticed from the bombardment of pink, red, hearts and lovey dovey commercials, Valentine's day is right around the corner. Like... tomorrow.

Now, I've never been a big fan of this Holiday. I was, for like two months once, but after that... eh. Just consumerism at it's most chocolatey.

When I was 17, my high school boyfriend (Whom I dated off and on for almost 6 years) wanted to give me a Valentine. Sweet, right? Except his family didn't approve so much. Like, at all. (I'm not sure what I did to turn the whole clan against me, but whatevs. He was the best high school boyfriend a girl could ask for, no joke.) He worked the early morning shift stocking a grocery store, so on his way home from work he brought me roses and some other sweet little gifts. It was incredibly precious and so sweet of him. And even though I'm racking my brain and I can't for the life of me remember what else it was he brought me, I still remember feeling so cherished. He was thoughtful, and went waaaaaaaaaay out of his way to give me a valentine. 

Of course, what did I give him? Umm.... I really don't want to admit this. I had no clue what to give a boy for Valentine's Day. And I mean, no clue. So I was all... "Boys like... duct tape. And flashlights. And... candy? Right?!" So that is what I gave this thoughtful young man. And, bless his heart, he acted excited and sweet and like I was the best thing that ever happened to him. You don't get relationships like that ever day. And I definitely didn't value him until he was gone. 

Of course, let us not forget the crappiest Valentines almost ever. I had a missionary out (more on that in the next story) and was pretty much alone. I wasn't getting along with my roommate, I hadn't made any new friends at the university, my car battery had died that morning and there was no parking anywhere on campus. And then, to top it all off, I got pulled over by a FEMALE cop! Now, we all know that as a woman pulled over by a male cop, you have a pretty good chance of talking your way out of the ticket. Female cop? Forget about it! (I wish I could type that as Joey says it on Friends...)

Somehow, I managed to talk my way out of this ticket. It wasn't easy. This woman was obviously pissed that she was working Valentines day. And that she was alone, and had to wear an incredibly unflattering uniform. But by some miracle, I was not ticketed. This didn't stop me from going home and bawling my eyes out though. After I worked 4 hours talking to lonely truckers that is... (Nothing to cheer up a girl like hearing an old 50 year old chain smoker tell you that you "Sound awfully sexy." Please note, I worked helping tuckers get hired by big trucking companies.)

And then there was the Valentine's day that I go engaged... You heard me. Engaged. And let me preface this story by saying, it didn't pan out. Like, heartbreakingly didn't pan out. Which is why I always, always, tell guys to never, ever, ever propose on a holiday. You never know what could happen, and you're setting yourself up with never being able to top that gesture of love. You don't want that.  

Anywhoo, Valentine's day fell on a Sunday that year. We had a nice quiet morning, went to church with my family, and then we had dinner with my whole family at my parent's house. Suddenly, everyone was all, "Hey, we're gonna go... somewhere." And they all left. So, X and I (we shall call him X, cause that is what he is) sat down at the table and together we put together, The Book. He had served an LDS Mission for two years, and I had written him every week of his mission. He wrote back. So that day, we sat down and put together the book. It was our letters back and forth so that it was like reading a story. Seems super sweet, right? It was. Around sunset he was all, "Hey, let's go for a drive!" And I was all, "It's kinda cold, but sure!"

He drove to the end of the dirt road we lived on (we weren't hicks, we just had a farm like place and lived in a small town). At the end of the dirt road, there was this beautiful spot. The road was lined with poplars on both sides. It was here that we had our first real "talk". That we spent hours watching the stars and countless sunsets. There were picturesque fields filled with fireflies in the summer. Real Anne of Green Gables stuff. And then, he got down on one knee, in the mud, and popped the question. It wasn't eloquent. It was just simple. And it was beautiful. Until he broke my heart a few weeks before the wedding and effectively ruined Valentine's day. 

Last year, I spent Valentines day in bed with my cat. My husband was gone with the military. I was incredibly lonely. I had tried to brighten my day by making Valentine cupcakes for the office. And everyone loved them. So that was nice. But it didn't change the fact that I was very much alone. 

This year is going to be different! I have V-Day all planned out for my hubby. It isn't anything crazy elaborate, but it is going to be time together. And I ream really looking forward to it.

Have you had any crappy Valentine's days? I know I'm not the only one! 

It Ain't Fair: Shaving Edition

Life's not fair. I get it. Trust me. I live in Utah. Some people live in Florida. Not fair. (In case you miss how that is not fair, let me just say that I HATE snow, and I am 90% positive that I am solar powered. More on that later)

You know what is really and truly not fair? Shaving. Look, I know all about how the media and society have objectified, sexualized and marginalized women. And it upsets me. Like a lot. Drives me absolutely nuts! But this goes beyond that. 

Shaving. It is not socially acceptable to go around with a bunch of leg/armpit hair: FOR WOMEN. Men can say, "Yeah, well I have to shave my face!" Big whoop. You can have a beard. And sometimes they look super cool. And I have seen some stellar mustaches. Some men shave their chests, but you know what fellas? Society won't look aghast at your lack of grooming if you don't. But us pretty ladies? We have to shave half our body. And sure, we can hide it with jeans and leggings and sometimes tights (tights can be gnarly on unshaved legs), but at the end of the day... we have to shave.

Shaving takes up a lot of time. I am pretty sure that if 5 women collectively took all the time it takes for them to properly shave every month, they would have enough time to solve the national deficit. 

I've thought about this a lot. And, from discussions with my husband, yes I love the feeling of my smooth legs (especially when I climb into soft, clean sheets at night). BUT I would never have to know the feeling of stubble on HALF MY BODY if I had never had to shave. Think about it. What if we all grew up thinking that it was sexy for men to be hairless beings. How would you like that menfolk? Huh? Years and years ago, women didn't have to shave. It just wasn't done (We also rarely bathed more than once a week, but I digress).

WHO came up with the crazy, outlandish idea that women should be hairless. And I mean HAIRLESS. My ladybits, they don't like the razor. TMI? I don't think so. Cause y'all are thinking it. Men have different preferences. And we women usually try to accommodate (You know it is true. I have many a friend who keeps a certain hair length/color because their man likes it, so I know this applies as well.) Some men just want some nice grooming. You know, trimming down the wilderness. Others want not a hair in sight (talk about a lot of work!). Some men like it "au naturel" and you can have yourself a thicket. But those men are rare. 

Oh the time! The TIME it takes to keep oneself hairless. And don't even get me started on cost (I can't use those cheap razors. I just can't. And then some women WAX! And Laser Hair Removal! Oh the agony! Oh my WALLET!) If women stopped shaving, put all the money they put towards razors/shaving cream/lotion/waxing/laser hair removal then all that money together would solve the deficit. 

I know that I can't change things. I know that I won't go all hippy and stop shaving my legs in protest. I know that I will always appreciate the smooth feeling that follows for the ONE (and only one) day that follows shaving. I know defeat when I see it.

But you know what I DO want? I want a sincere thank you from men everywhere for following their crazy, outlandish, against nature's request to shave half our body. A thank you. A sweet gesture of appreciation. Maybe they should try shaving all that we shave every once in a while to truly appreciate all we go through. And maybe we should have a shaving appreciation day. 

I guess what I am trying to say is... can't a gal get a thank you for shaving? Is that too much to ask for?

(Linking up with : Mingle Mondays Tell me Tuesday, GFC, Social Stack Up, Tell Me About It Tuesday)

Stuck

Remember when I wrote about this post? 

Well, I'm stumped. I've been doing a lot of thinking and soul searching and staring at things in a daze. I want a .... something. I want a career, a passion. I want to make my passion a career.

Problem: I have a ton of passions. Let's list just a few, shall we?

Yoga

Running

Reading

Being Outdoors

Helping others

Writing

Watching TV (Yes this is passion, ok?)

Listening to stories.

But here is what I have realized in compiling that list.

The thing I love more than anything, my driving passion, why I majored in History, why I read voraciously is... stories. I LOVE stories. I wrote this post on stories and why I love them so much. But... what do I do? I think I am afraid to write. Which is sad, but true. I want to write, I really do. But I worry that I will never be able to make any career out of that. (not that I need a career to write. I just... I want one. I want my words to be recognized and read and loved. I want to touch someone as I have been touched. I want to give people an escape, just as I have escaped into my favorite book when Life gets too rough. Is this a selfish desire? I don't know...) 

And then I ask myself, do I want a career? I know that I want to do something with my life along with being a mother. 

I also know that what I really want is to be a mother. It is important to me, it is a big part of my upbringing, but also a part of me. When I look at my youngest sister, whom I have helped raise and care for since she was born, I feel so much love. Such a fierce, beautiful, painful, all consuming love. And I know that having my own children will create an even deeper love. And I want that. I love the feel of her small hand in mine. I love that when she broke her arm, she asked for me to go with her to the scary doctor. I love how some part of me feels more complete when I hold her. And when I see how much she has grown, when I watch her be a grown up kid and not my baby, my heart hurts in a good way. I want that. I want that for my whole life. I want the joy, frustration, love, pain, laughter, tears, long nights and happy memories of motherhood.

I also want more. But my upbringing and culture all says I should be happy with motherhood. And I know I will be. 

But I want more.

How do people do this? My future is firmly planted in motherhood. So when I look ahead at any kind of career path, I automatically begin to factor in things like, "Can I do this from home? Will it have flexible hours? How will I make it work? Will I have enough time for my kids and home and husband?"

How do you people do it?!

I know I am not the only young woman who looks at her future and wants to pull her hair out. I talk to friends and we all look at our future in absolute confusion. Different desires pulling us in different directions.

My biggest question right this very second is, "What do I do, RIGHT NOW?!" I am in a rather dead end job. I am one tiny step away from having a degree, that I have no clue what to do with, and now is not the time for us to start a family.  Do I want to be a hair stylist? Yoga instructor? Teacher? I know, I know, that I want to be a writer. But, as my husband pointed out, I can write while doing other things. Do I want to do other things? I have to work. Right now, I am our main provider while my husband finishes school. I have to work. But I don't want to just... work. I want to enjoy what I do.

I do not enjoy being a receptionist. So.... I'm stuck. 

What do y'all think? Anyone in the same boat? Anyone know where I am coming from? Or am I a little crazy? Advice? Anyone...?

(Linking up with: followers to friends, What I'm Loving Wednesday, Whatenver, Whenever, So What It's Almost Friday Thursday Blog Hop, Black Tag Diaries, It's Ok Thursday,)

The Trifecta of Grumpydom

There are three things that just shouldn't happen at the same time for any woman.
1. You're Period
2. A Cold
3. Zero Sleep

Alone, they still make life unpleasant. All together? It is like the trifecta of grumpydom. I mean, one of those things on their own is enough to make a girl wanna punch through a window.

I know that my period is unavoidable. Its gonna happen, so I am a little more resigned to that. But it doesn't mean the cramps get any more pleasant (its like my uterus is trying to implode, or lead a coup to kill me from the inside out!). Or the hormones easier to deal with (Don't judge, I might have thrown things at the TV during the Bachelor last night).

Don't even get me STARTED on a cold. I have zero patience with a stuffy nose. None. It makes me irritated at everyone and everything. I would rather have the stomach flu for 24 hours and be done with it, than have a stuffy/drippy nose for three weeks.

And zero sleep. Need I say more?

Needless to say, I am a grump today. Four chocolate kisses and herbal tea didn't even dent the gloom that surrounds my desk. When ever I page someone over the intercom, it sounds like I am telling whatshisbucket or whosisface that their imminent doom is on line 3. I think the shipping department has stopped approaching my desk for fear that decapitation is just around the corner.

I am sorry world. Truly I am. Maybe tomorrow I will be a nicer version of me. Don't hold your breath or anything, but hope is always a nice thing to have.

(Linking  up with: Tell me Tuesday, GFC, Social Stack Up, Tell Me About It Tuesday)

My Graceful Moments

My whole life I've been known as a klutz. I've been teased for tripping over the lines painted on a basketball court. I spent my entire time at Disneyland tripping over my own feet. My husband laughed at me, as did my aunt and uncle as I continued to do what I call "stutter-walking". You know, walking along and then catch your feet on nothing and take a couple of ungraceful stutter-steps. I did that pretty much the whole time. The tips of my toes were bruised from being shoved into the front of my shoe.

I am such a rebel.

Well, Saturday night I had yet another confrontation with the stairs. We often go head to head, and I always seem to lose. This Saturday was more alarming than most, however. Usually I walk up the stairs, trip and fall forward. Sometimes I trip over a stair going downstairs and have to catch my balance.

This time, I was racing down the stairs (for no apparent reason) and tripped on the third stair I stepped on, rolled my ankle, thought I caught my balance only to go thudding and rolling down the rest of the staircase. It was loud and dramatic sounding. Dramatic sounding from the thuds, thumps and my screech. By the time I landed at the bottom of the stairs my brother in law was at the top of the stairs about ready to fly down and restore life to what could only be assumed to be my unconscious body. My husband had flown to the banister and about jumped over the banister to say his final good bye.

Both looked monumentally concerned.

Until I started laughing hysterically. I was fine. The left side of my body is nicely bruised, my ankle a little tender, but nothing bad. Upon seeing that I wasn't dead, they both laughed and spent the rest of the night teasing me for my grace and dignity.

I wish I could say this was one funny moment in my life. In reality, this is one moment among many. For a few years the X-ray tech at our local hospital new me quite well. I just seem to have a magnet for disaster.

Am I the only person who has trouble with stairs? Anyone else have any good klutzy moments they'd like to share?