You get a muffin...

And you get a muffin, and YOU get a muffin...

Today I thought I would make some muffins. I wanted to try out a new recipe. Blackberry Banana Oatmeal Muffins. Delicious.
They turned out pretty good-although they looked a little flat and weird.
It's what's on the inside that counts, right?

Today I learned that pouring flour into your measuring cup is a bad idea. Sometimes you lose control of the flour bag and drop in-basically the whole thing. And then, instead of wasting all that good flour, you have to add in a ton more ingredients...which will give you dozens upon dozens of muffins.
Good things I have friends to force my wares on.

I should have taken a picture. But I didn't. I was a little preoccupied with my armfuls of muffins.
Instead, here's a photo I took just a bit ago.
I love this photo.

7/7

Every day this week, I've come home from work, turned on Frozen, sprawled out on my floor and painted. When Frozen is over, sometimes I'll wait until it just starts playing again. Or I'll put on Freaks and Geeks or Northern Exposure.
So far this week, I've painted seven nursery rhymes, watched Frozen five times (its to the point where whenever Let It Go comes on, I've stopped pointing and waving like magic will come from my fingers. But aside from lack of character development- not bad Disney), and a whole season of Northern Exposure.
Productive?
Some would say no.
I say YES!
Definitely.
And I've showered every day...so double productive.

I'll probably be putting Frozen on for the sixth time tomorrow.
I'm going for seven out of seven days.

Pop and Lock

I'm getting really good at it. Only I do less locking and a whole lot of popping.
I've been doing yoga for the past month now and everything seems to be loosening up, which is good. My neck feels good and my back doesn't feel as tight and I can put my whole hand on the floor when I stretch...well...kinda.
Having any kind of chest makes it hard to bend and fold.
But I still count it.
However, all my joints have been popping.
Like, to the point that when I get up at work, my coworkers ask if I'm okay.
Is this normal?

Puke Chair

There's no point to this post other than to show you my puke chair. 

It's not literally a puke chair.

Well, it could be...I bought it for $15 dollars at a DI. The previous owners could have thrown up in it and I would have never known.

It's just the color of puke, so that's what I named it.

It's also the most comfortable chair I've ever sat in- even if it was broken and leaned/creaked when you rocked in it. I had it for my whole college career. One semester I lost my ipod...and two semesters and one move later-I found it in my chair.

Also, I came across this picture of my friend Tami.
I think this is funny only because I know that pie is frozen.

And I have now successfully blogged about a chair.

Ladders and Walls and Things

I've been wondering lately if I'm too picky.

My sister works really hard and deals with unpleasant things at her job because she knows it will benefit in the long run. 

If I'm not happy with what I'm doing or where I'm working...I stop and do something else that I consider to be more fun. Sometimes (most of the time) the pay is less, and it takes me a little longer to get back on track.

Basically I'm poor. All the time.

I've turned down two jobs, two opportunities to have my own classroom, because they didn't feel right. 

Is that me being picky? 

Should I be sacrificing my happiness now and take a job (the kind that I want), even though it's not a fun as I know it can be, because it will help me professionally further down the line?

Does this even make sense to anyone?

Today in church our Bishop was talking about how each of us are climbing some kind of ladder to get to the top of whatever wall we hope to get over. We climb higher and higher, sometimes going where none have gone before, achieving different things professionally, personally etc. 

Unfortunately, sometimes when we reach the top of the ladder, we realize that it was leaning against the wrong wall. 

What kind of wall is my ladder leaning against? I'm a big believer in following my gut and doing what makes me happy. But has climbing up the "happy ladder" made me lazy?

I'm just going to answer my own question here and say no. 

I think my ladder is on the right wall. 

Even though it may take me longer to get to where I want to be professionally, I know I'm going to be happy the whole way up. 

Good talk you guys!

Here's a totally unrelated photo for this post.

(I took this photo on my road trip last summer...somewhere in Oregon. That day I checked out of the gross motel I stayed in and stopped at almost every beach on my drive down the coast. At this particular beach, I felt a like I was going to be sick. And not the throw up kind.
I literally had to sit on a rock to keep from messing my pants. TMI? Probably. Let's just say I'm grateful I had a couple tissues and that part of that beach was secluded that morning.
It took me a half hour to make my way back up the path to my truck. Maybe next time I drive down the Oregon Coast, I'll skip this particular beach.)

My Cousin Ate A Bee

But doesn't remember.

We were eating pizza outside on our grandparents lawn. Morgan started freaking out, threw her slice on the ground and ran inside. I looked over and there was a bee on her pizza right where she took a bite. She didn't come back outside for the rest of the night. 

She says that never happened. 

But it did. 

She ate a bee.

I don't like bees. I'm afraid of them.

It's one of my biggest fears.

Along with really strong wind when it's dark outside. I think I might be alone in that one though...

So it's super cool that we discovered a hive on the palm tree in our backyard. I think a bird flew into it or something and disrupted them because there were THOUSANDS of bees buzzing around. 

I had a hard time leaving my house. 

I knew once I stepped foot outside they would be able to sense my fear and buzz straight for my face.

One summer, my mom had us rake the leaves outside. Instead of putting them in the garden bin, my sister and I decided to throw them up in the air and make it rain. We were fully enjoying the leaves falling all around us when I felt something on the palm of my hand. I brushed it off on my pants, but I felt like it was still there. I looked down at my hand and there was a GIANT bee clinging on for dear life. I just stood there...staring at it....and then I watched it sting me and fly off.
My mom had zero sympathy. I think it's because she had to comb all the twigs and leaves that were ratted up in my hair.

One time I stepped on a bee and it stung me between my toes. I let out a yelp and fell to the ground in the fetal position, clutching my foot.
There were a lot of people around. Probably wondering why that girl is making crazy eyes at her foot.
Tears were shed.
I don't think I got the whole stinger out because my toe swelled up and itched like crazy for a whole two months.

I think I might be allergic.

Even If You Fall On Your Face

"Even if you fall on your face, at least you're still moving forward"-Victor Kiam

Unless you're me...and your face gets stuck in the mud.

Today I was recounting all the different times I've fallen.
Just last saturday, my friend was picking me up and as I was walking over to her car, I cut across a corner on my lawn and fell in the biggest gopher hole known to man.
The devil rats are back and have burrowed their way all across my yard.
My foot got stuck and I'm convinced my favorite pair of shoes are ruined. (Although I think I just need to take a wet rag to it. I might be overreacting. But probably not.)
So while my friend is waiting for me to get my leg out of this hole, I slip out of my shoe and dig it out of the ground and run back inside to grab a new pair of shoes.
I had dirt all over my dress the rest of the day.

When I was in fifth grade, I was walking back to class from the playground. I had on my favorite red and white striped one piece jumper playsuit/romper.
I think at this point I was getting too tall for it.
I'll leave it at that.
This has nothing to do with the story.
I was walking backward talking to my friend and backed right into a pole from the basketball hoop so hard that I stumbled forward and fell on my face. My friend stood there and laughed at me.
I have cool friends.

In college, I was a janitor. One of my jobs was to salt the entryways. As I was salting, and debating any side effects of licking the salt from the bucket, I slipped.
I wasn't walking or anything. I stood up from a bended position, and fell. Like someone came and knocked my feet out from under me. One second I was up...the next...out.
Good thing I salted the entryway?

Last year I was walking along a sidewalk and tripped.
Now, usually when you see people walking and they trip, they just stumble a little, and break into a slow jog to keep from falling. And they usually look back at whatever they tripped on. How dare that crack be there.
When I tripped, I stumbled, and broke into a slow jog...but that jog did not help me catch my balance.
I was jogging parallel to the ground. Then I was running. Then my arms were flailing.
This story has a happy ending though.
My face broke my fall and skidded into the one little patch of muddy water for blocks.
I just stayed there...assessing the situation. Am I broke? How long was that fall? What time is it?

Mostly I just have horrible balance and am constantly run into things: walls, doors, furniture, and have 'accidentally' touched a lot of butts running into people.

Sometimes when I'm telling my friends funny stories I get caught up in my own humor and I laugh hysterically and can't actually tell the story through gasping for air between laughs.
And then when I really think about it--the story isn't all that funny. It's usually one of those "had to be there" moments.
I think most of my stories might be those kinds of stories, but whatever.
No one reads this blog anyway.