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.)

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.

This Valentine's Day

I read five stories, shared four strawberries, changed three diapers, tickled two bellies and watched one garbage truck.

 Happy Valentine's Day!

I'm Not Paranoid...Just Overly Aware

When I was little, I remember watching one of those "Who Done-it" shows where the host/narrator is super mysterious and dramatic. There was a story about some guy who set stuff on fire or something, but I remember going to bed super paranoid about fire.
I couldn't sleep, I just kept going over my emergency escape plan where I grab my blankie and some undies and crawl on all fours out the front door.
It was a great plan.
One of my best.
Thankfully I never had to employ this escape plan, but I've noticed how super aware I am of things that could happen.
Maybe my OCD has started to kick in more and more each year...because along with my normal bedtime routine, I have to check all the doors to make sure they're closed and locked. With the current burglaries around my neighborhood lately, I've been even more aware of this.
Speaking of which, a news reporter showed up on our street tonight to do a little report on all the break-ins.
I was driving over to my friends for dinner and I saw them on my way up the hill.
I checked the time.
5:57 PM
Six O'clock news would be on soon.
So of course I called my mom and told her to turn the news on to see the segment...and also to tell me if she could see me driving up the street.
Because I was.
I was driving back and forth on my street to get on the news!
I've become one of those annoying people that stand behind the news reporter doing a piece on world hunger or something, and I'm just in the background waving like a crazy person, mouthing "hi mom".
Oh boy.
I don't think I actually got on the news though. I think they had cut to some interviews with some of my neighbors both times I was in view of the camera.
It's for the best, I'm sure. They probably would've saw me on camera, wondered who that awesome woman in that car was, asked me to do an interview, been so informed, collected, smart and witty, that I'd become famous for being so awesome and I'd have to spend the rest of my life dodging the paparazzi that followed me everywhere.
I just don't have time for that right now.

Routine

I love routine.
And not just because I'm OCD.
I'm not talking switching lights on and off 12 times before you enter or exit a room.
I'm talking basic, daily routine.
Get up.
Go to the bathroom.
Eat breakfast.
Brush teeth.
And so on....

But its the night time routine that I love the best.
I love the settled feeling.
I'll brush my teeth and wash my face and lay down with a good book. Currently I'm reading three different ones. American Childhood by Annie Dillard.
Totally recommend it....I've read it twice since I was first introduced to it my junior year in high school.
Travels with Charley by John Steinbeck. Absolutely my all time favorite. It goes on the top of any favorite list.
I'm on my fourth read.
And a Farewell to Arms by Ernest Hemingway. I've read it once...but I had to read it for some class in college and don't remember what it was about. I was in it just to finish the assignment and move on.
I wish I paid attention the first time because its beautiful. 

I used to think that once I read a book, I couldn't read it again...I always had to find a new book. Obviously I don't feel that way anymore. I love finding new books to read...but sometimes you just need something familiar.

Tonight I'm reading Dillard.

Here's An Uninformative Post

Well, The Grateful Month is just about over. Thanksgiving was yesterday. I laid around, watched movies, and starved myself all day so I'd be hungry for dinner.
We had ham.
I think that pretty much sums it up.
Good thing Thanksgiving isn't one of my Top Three favorite holidays:
1. National Bird Day
2. Groundhog's Day
3. International Day for the Elderly
Then Thanksgiving.
Then Hoodie-Hoo Day. It's a real thing.

Good news! I finally got a new camera. My old one was...old, so I got an upgrade. AND I also got a new wide angle lens, which I'm super stoked to use. So now that I don't hate my camera and actually have fun taking photos again, I can show you all the stuff I've been working on!
Yay for you!!
These next few weeks will be busy...and if you're lucky I'll share all the happenings with you, my imaginary friends.
Another Yay for you!!!

Story Time

When I was in fourth or fifth grade, I was invited to a sleepover at Angelina's house. Angelina and I weren't friends. At least, we never played together at recess, and she never invited me over to her house to do anything. I don't even remember getting an invitation.
I think I was a pity invite.
Because I wasn't really friends with Angelina, I didn't want to spend the entire night there. My mom said she'd come and pick me up around 11:00 or so. The plan was to play games and have dinner then watch a couple movies until everyone fell asleep. There were two movies that Angelina's mom rented for us. One was Twister, and the other was Halloween.
You know...Michael Myers Halloween.
Everyone wanted to watch Halloween first, to get the scary movie out of the way so they could all fall peacefully asleep to Twister, which was less scary.
Great idea.
We started the movie, turned out the lights and the fun began. My friend Danielle (who was actually my friend) and I seemed to be the only ones affected by this movie. We were screaming at all the scary parts, which were basically the entire 104 minutes, covering each others eyes and burying our faces in the backs of whoever was sitting next to us.
I think Danielle started crying at one point.
Or maybe that was me.
Everyone else appeared to be okay with what they were watching. One girl was laughing like it was the greatest comedy of all time. Halfway through, I guess some of the girls were getting annoyed with me and Danielle screaming and told us that if we were scared we should go into the other room. We did....but playing Barbie with Angelina's baby sister seemed stupid so we made our way back to the living room.
I was sitting right by the sliding glass door, which didn't have curtains, and Angelina's Doberman kept running up and scaring the pee right out of me. I had never been so scared in my entire life.
(Except for that time I went to a haunted maze my friend's gymnastics class put on. Some guy in a Jason mask popped out at me and I hit him with my pumpkin bucket I was using to collect my candy. I lost all my candy.)
Once the movie was over, I released my death grip on Danielle's arm and she wiped her remaining tears on my sleeve. Everyone was like,
"Oh, that was awesome!"
"Did you see Danielle crying?"
"Chelsea, did you wet your pants?"
We all pulled ourselves together and put Twister on to calm our nerves.
About five minutes into the movie, my mom showed up. I cried the whole way home.
I stayed up the rest of the night watching Scooby-Doo with my mom.
And that's how I became afraid of the dark. And curtain-less windows at night.

The End