I am old.

Yes, older than dirt.

I know I have written several posts about being old and stuff, and it's because I am super duper old feeling.

For example, I slept about 9 hours last night. And I woke up thinking, "What did I just do? I slept way too long!"

As a teen, you can never sleep too long.

Stephen and I worked at the bookstore this afternoon, 12-5, which is the whole time the store is open on Saturdays. We spent some time rearranging shelves and every time I knelt down, I creaked. And getting back up I creek ed.

I don't remember being so creaky as a teen.

This evening we went on a date. Yes, a Date. Dinner, ice cream, and a movie!

Dinner was BBQ from Uncle Dan's restaurant. While it was good, I had no veggies. This troubled me.

When a teen, no veggies = happy.

We went to see Iron Man 2. It was loud. I came home with a roaring headache. Literally, a lion is inside my head, roaring.

And then, I am sitting here typing this blog, and the light from my screen is killing me.

It's also past 11pm and I am sleepy.

I'M SO OLD.

I'm too old for this stuff: kneeling on the floor, no veggies at dinner, loud movies in the theatre.
I'm just too old for this stuff.

I am not, however, too old for: dates with my husband, vanilla Frostys, or texting my friends.

And now, I will move my old bones to bed. Partly cause I want to sleep instead of hear my headache-lion and partly cause I am old and sleepy and have to get up early.

Musical life

I have this secret desire.

I want to be in a Broadway musical.

Don't laugh. It's true.

Now, I realize that for the last several years I have been slightly adamant about the fact that I no longer enjoy singing in public.

That is still very very true.

However, I can't help it.

Whenever I'm alone in the apartment, I crank up some tunes and I sing my little heart out.

Mostly in the shower, but still.

Or in the car, when I'm driving somewhere without Stephen (which isn't often) I like to belt it out.

The closest I've come to really singing in public in the last 2 years is at the karaoke bar with my sister Sarah.

But that doesn't really count. (It doesn't count as singing in public unless at least half, no, at least 3/4 of the audience is sober.

And yet, there is a very strong part of me that wants to perform again.

One of the happiest times of my life was during the 2 weeks of performances for Children of Eden, the musical I was in my senior year of high school.

Music wise, it was the best performance experience of my life.

Every night, I would go in and do my makeup and put on my costume for the first part of act 1. And the show night high would start.

And then I'd start to drag just before intermission.

But in the opening number of act 2, I'd get my second wind and I'd feel even higher than in act 1.

And then, at the end, when we all stood and took our bows, it just felt magical.

There is something magical about being on stage.

It was a high I'd not felt until those 2 weeks and I haven't felt it since.

Performing in a choir/ensemble isn't the same.

In the musical, I got to be someone else. I felt what that character felt through the music.

When I sing show tunes in the shower, or when I'm cleaning the kitchen, I get to pretend that I am in this other place and that I am someone else.

It's freeing.

So there you have it.

My dark secret, that isn't a secret anymore, because I posted it on my blog.

I'm pretty sure I won't be in a Broadway musical. Shoot, I doubt I'd even have the courage to audition for one.

And I suppose I could try to do community theatre or something.

But it's not the same.

The big production, the fancy lights and sets, the feel of the big audience, the band or orchestra playing...

I guess I'll just watch Glee instead!

Woe is me...

I had a request from my lovely friend, Janna Laugherty, asking me to post on my blog again.

But, alas, I have terrible news.

I have nothing to blog about these days.

There, I said it! And I'll say it again: I have nothing to blog about these days.

Sure, things happen. I go to work, I make dinner, I hang out with my husband.

Here is what I think has happened:

I have a job now. And therefore I am around people more.

So I use up all my funny around the people that I work with during the day.

When I started at the bookstore, I was one of 4 new hires. 1 guy and 2 other girls started at the same time I did.

And, of course, there were the people who already worked there, mostly guys (including Stephen) and one other girl.

Every one has been super friendly and we've gotten to be decent acquaintances.

So during a shift, when there is a lull in the store, or when we are arranging shelves or putting away books, we get to chatting.

As you all know, and probably know well, I like to make people laugh.

My mother tells me that I am "famous" for my one-liners, and I take pleasure from eliciting laughter, especially unexpected laughter.

Therefore, it stands to reason that I spend all my funny lines, stories, or jokes on my co-workers.

And when I get home, stories from the bookstore don't seem funny when re-told in blog form, and I am at a loss for something to share with the world wide web.

Here is a list of what I did today (just so you can see what I'm talking about):
1. I woke up.
2. I cleaned the ants out of the shower (again)
3. I showered
4. I woke up Stephen
5. I fixed my hair and put on makeup
6. I put breakfast together (coffee and cereal)
7. I dried my hair
8. I checked facebook
9. I dried my hair more
10. I went to work
11. I worked; For the first couple hours, I watched the front of the store and read a book about Helen of Troy. Then I worked with Stephen to remove old stickers from some textbooks
12. At noon, Stephen and I went to lunch
13. I went back to work at 1245
14. I peeled more stickers off of books
15. I went home at 3
16. I watched the entire 2nd disk of How I Met Your Mother season 1 and made dinner while I waited for Stephen to get home (at 6)
17. We ate dinner
18. I talked to Sarah (my sister) and Stephen talked to his family
19. We went to Wal-Mart
20. Stephen bought me a Frappuccino from Starbucks
21. We came home and put away our Wal-Mart purchases
22. I sat on the couch, drank my Frappuccino and checked facebook
23. I noticed Janna's request for a new blog post

And now we've come full circle.

I believe that this is enough evidence for you all to believe that I am speaking truth when I say I have nothing to blog about these days.

So, if it is another week or two before I post, I apologize.

If you need someone to blame, blame my co-workers.

Or move here. Then you'd get to be here and hang out with me instead of having to wait for my blog to make you laugh.

Cause you know if you were here, I'd make you laugh.

I have spoken.

What I have learned from marriage:

In my five months of marriage, I have learned many things.

Many things.

I could make a list of all the things I have learned so far, but instead, I will focus on an aspect that has surprised me recently.

If you have ever lived with me (and about 1/2 of the readership of my blog has lived with me: my mom, Sarah, Janna, Anna, Stephen), then you know that I enjoy my alone time.

I have always liked to have time to myself and time to do my own thing. Some might call me independent.

But lately, I've realized that I need a lot less alone time than I used to.

It's strange.

For the first month of our marriage, Stephen and I didn't have jobs. We spent time organizing our new apartment and trying to figure out Waco.

And then even after Stephen got his part-time job at the bookstore and I was looking for a job, we still spent a lot of time together.

So I suppose that I grew used to having him around. When he'd go to work, I'd be stuck at home. Sure, putting in online applications took up some time and so did facebook. But eventually, I'd run out of things to do.

And it wasn't just that I'd get bored, it was that I got tired of being alone.

This is a very odd thing for me to discover about myself.

I never used to mind being alone.

I had my own room the first year I lived in the dorm at SBU.

And I'm sure my former roommates can all vouch for the fact that I liked to go into my room and read or study and just be alone for a while.

And Stephen has ruined that.

Maybe when I get a full-time job, I can go back to having some independence.

Or maybe once I make friends here in Waco, I'll start to want my alone time again.

Any of my current friends want to move to Texas???

Think about it...

Well, I did it.

I finally had my hairs cut.

Here is the sad thing: I called, like, 7 salons.

I tried to be very thorough. I wanted someone who knew curly hair and could cut it well.

And I found a woman who has curly hair and said she has curly headed clients and has been hair cutting for 16 years.

I thought, "Yay! She will understand and do a good job!"

So I made the appointment, went to the salon, met this woman.

She had stick straight hair.

First of all, I think it is sad when people boast about having curly hair but they straighten it all the time.

NO ONE IN THE SALON KNEW SHE HAD CURLY HAIR!

What does this tell me? Either she really hated her curls or she never learned to manage them.

Secondly, I explained (in great detail) what I usually get, what I like, what I dislike, and how I wanted her to cut my hair.

She listened pretty well, and for the most part I think I like the cut.

However, she overlooked a very very crucial part of my directives: Shape.

Curly hair, when cut straight across or cut without a slight layering effect looks like a box.

This is how my hair now looks.

Like a box.

I told her that I usually have my hair cut in a subtle V shape, so as to give it shape (and to prevent it from looking like an overgrown mullet (which I thought went without saying) but apparently I needed to have said this out loud) and when my hair was still wet I could not tell very well how this task was accomplished.

It was not done at all, I fear.

Now, maybe my hair is just in shock. I have had this problem before, when I have had several inches taken off my hair, and it goes into severe shock.

This could be the case.

But I couldn't resist looking at pictures from my last 2 hair cuts and they looked sooooo much better than this one!

It was cheap-ish though. For a curly hair cut. $20. Not bad at all.

So, if in the next few days, I'm not completely satisfied with my purchase, I'll just scoot back to the store and get a refund. (Or I'll just ask her to fix it a little)

I'd attempt to fix it myself, but I think the word *DISASTER* says it all.

Me, scissors, and my hair is a Bad (with a capital B) Idea (with a capital I).


In other news, Stephen bought me A.A. Milne's The House at Pooh Corner and a package of mini-pens. Happy!

I love miniature things! Just ask Stephen: anytime we go anywhere, if I see something little, it's cute and I want it.

I don't know when this started or why, but who cares?

Little things are awesome.

And cute. Like teacup pigs.

Maybe, another time, I'll do a whole post about tiny things. But for tonight, I'll say goodnight. Maybe post some new hair cut pictures tomorrow!

GOOD NIGHT BLOG!

**Special Mother's Day Weekend Listing**

Today, my loving husband and I went grocery shopping at Wal-Mart.

We basically had no groceries in the house, so we piled items high on the rolly-register thing.

I think the cashier woman felt like she needed to talk to us, maybe because we had so much stuff or maybe because she is just a friendly person, but at any rate, the first thing she said to me was, "Are you a mother?"

AHHHHHHHHH!
That's what happened in my head.

I think I blushed and sputtered until Stephen said, no we've only been married about 5 months; if she was a mom, we'd be in trouble!

Then we all awkwardly laughed.

But it made me think:

Though I am not a mother, I am very thankful for mine and for Stephen's and for all my friends mothers, because without them I wouldn't have me, my husband, or any of my friends!

So, in honor of my mother, Juanita Lewis, who is, in my opinion, a truly amazing momma, this Sunday my weekend listing is a tribute to her awesomeness:

Top 10 reasons my mom is awesome:
10. She has aged gracefully, so I know that as I get older I'll look good.

9. She is the smartest person I know. Any time I have a problem or a question, I go to her first... (After I've talked to Stephen.)

8. Somehow she finds time to be a great mother, wife, daughter, friend and supervisor at work. (I don't know how she does it!)

7. She is an encourager. To everyone. Not just me, but to EVERYONE. She writes me little notes or calls and leaves me messages to let me know I'm loved and she's proud of me and she's praying for me. She does it for Stephen now too.

6. She used to scratch my back while I was going to sleep. :)

5. She always has time for me. Even if it's not right at that moment, she'll make time
for me later.

4. The only way she will jump into water is if she can do a somersault.

3. She made up a song to sing to us at night.

2. She has the greatest and most contagious laugh ever.

And the number 1 reason my mom is awesome is:
She loves me soooooooooooo much!

There are at least a bazillion other things I could list, so this is just a short summary.

I love you Mom! And to all mothers, Happy Mother's Day.

And to those of you who aren't yet mothers, I plan on staying that way for a while...
How 'bout you?

Joy in the little things--

So yesterday, Stephen and I both worked over 8 hours at the bookstore.

It was a LONG day.

So when we got home, we wanted to unwind and spend some time together, and be able to talk about something besides textbooks...

We watched a little TV, ate dinner and decided to play Skip-Bo.

In case you don't know Stephen or me at all, I'll let you in on a little secret:

We are VERY competitive people.

Our game-playing usually ends with one of us very frustrated and one of us very smug. And it does differ, depending on the game we play.

Skip-Bo is usually a better choice, because we win pretty evenly.... But not last night.

No, last night, I beat Stephen. Beat him good.

And in his frustration, he threw his remaining card up in the air, as so many *cough*sorelosers*cough* do....

Instead of flipping to the table, it did a graceful 180 and hit him square in the eye.

Not the eye lid. Not his eye lashes. Not his eyebrow.

In the eye.

And he had on his GLASSES!

In the irony of the moment, I will admit that I laughed. A lot. And then I asked him if he was ok. and then I laughed some more. In fact, I laughed so hard I cried.

It was good. It was needed. It's been a long week and a lot of working hours.

Even though the laugh was at the expense of my husband's eye, I'm sure he would say it was worth it, and needed too.

If any of you had a long week and needed a laugh, I hope this story helped. If not, I'm sorry. And if it's not that funny, I apologize. I was really tired last night and I am pretty tired tonight. And I still think it was hilarious.

Five Stages

This Sunday's edition of Weekend Listing is going to be a sad one.

Today, I have gone through the five stages of grief:

1. Denial
2. Anger
3. Bargaining
4. Depression
5. Acceptance

Why, you ask? What has happened to cause me to go through all these stages in once day?

Well, I'll tell you.

This morning, my hair dryer would not work.

Stage 1: Denial
After I put on my makeup, I picked up my hair dryer to dry my hair before church. I made sure it was plugged in first. Then I flipped the little switch. Nothing happened. So I reached up (I was upside down with my glasses off) and made sure it was all the way plugged in and pushed that little red button. Still nothing. So I unplugged it and plugged it in again and pushed the little red button. Still nothing. So I straightened up and put on my glasses and called for Stephen. I said that the outlet wasn't working. So I went out into our room and tried the outlet by my closet. Still nothing. I unplugged and plugged it, and again pushed that little red button. Again, nothing. So Stephen took it into the other bathroom and tried it. I began to feel a sinking feeling in my stomach. He came back and said the 2 saddest words you can hear about a hair dryer, "It's dead."

Stage 2: Anger
I froze for a moment. Then the madness welled up. Of course the hair dryer (that I've had for about 2 years) would decide not to work on a Sunday morning when I need to dry my hair to go to church!! How dare it stop working!! Now I would have to figure out a way to put my hair up with those little clips (that hurt my head after a few hours) really fast, cause we had to leave soon! I contemplated throwing that un-handy device clear across the room. And then I had a thought...

Stage 3: Bargaining
Maybe it wasn't really all the way dead. Maybe I could find a plug somewhere in the apartment that could make it come back to life. Maybe I just didn't press the little red button enough times. Maybe ALL the outlets in the apartment were burnt out and nothing worked. Maybe we just needed to flip the fuse!

Stage 4: Depression
As I realized that all of these suggestions were ludicrous, I almost started to cry. A woman grows to depend on her hair dryer. It's a source of comfort to know that it will be there, working properly in the morning. It becomes a part of the routine. So when it malfunctions (or in my case, just stops turning on) it's both shocking and very very sad... And to make matters worse, not only was my hair dryer sitting in the trash can, I had to go to church with wet hair! These thoughts were enough to make me want to lay back down and cry instead of going to church.

Stage 5: Acceptance
But, eventually, I came to realize that this was not the end of the world. I could put my hair up with the little clips. No, it wouldn't look super great, but at least I wouldn't have wet hair down my back. At least I could throw in a cute headband to distract from the fact that my hair had not been dried properly. At least Stephen and I could go to Wal-Mart later to buy me a new hair dryer so that I don't have to go to work tomorrow with wet hair. So I clipped up my hair and we left for church (only a few minutes later than Stephen wanted to leave).

So that is my Sunday morning saga.

It was sad, yes, but I triumphed.

And here is the moral of the story:

One might consider having an extra hair dryer on hand for those unforseen circumstances.

I have spoken.

The time has come, my friends, to talk of other things...

Of shoes and ships and sealing wax, of cabbages and kings!
And why the sea is boiling hot, and whether pigs have wings...

And so my friends, it's time for me to silence all the rumors.
No, I didn't meet a hit man; no, I didn't show folks my bloomers.

I simply was hired to do a job, and in return get paid.
That's really all there is to it. (I got tired of rhyming)

Ok, here's the scoop:

A few days ago, I applied to work at the textbook store where Stephen works. Their buy-back season is approaching (and will start next week) and they needed extra people. So I applied.

I interviewed on Thursday, the manager called me yesterday and offered me the job and I went in and did paperwork and learned stuff for a few hours.

I worked a 5 hour shift today (with Stephen) and am now mostly trained on using their cash register. It helps that is is very similar to the one I used when I worked at Maurices.

For right now, I get to work at the bookstore where Stephen is, since they need the extra people for buy-back, but if they keep me after the 2 week rush, then I'll be moved to the Spirit Shop, which is the same company, but they carry more clothing and other stuff, as well as textbooks.

However, I also have an interview at Baylor (on Wednesday) for a full-time job. From what I gathered, they are interviewing a LOT of people and I'm not too confident that I'll be chosen (they are looking for some experience I don't have, but they did call me for an interview, so who knows, right?)

But the important part is: I have a job. It's nice. The people who work there are friendly, I love having a reason to go outside the apartment, and I get paid.

And I get to work with Stephen.

I'm not gonna lie-- it was a little awkward when I first got to the store today. When I went in yesterday to start to familiarize myself with everything, Stephen wasn't there. But he's been working there a few months now, so everyone knows him. I was able to break the ice with my new co-workers a little by talking about Stephen and joking about him. So that made yesterday easier.

Today was stranger.

Stephen and I have been married for about 4.5 months now. We don't hang out with other people. Church is about the only other time that we interact with people together. Obviously, he does at work, but I've not been there. Until today.

I was a little stunned by his professional coolness toward me. Not that he was mean or ignored me-- he was just cold-ish.

I'm so used to him being sweet and affectionate and teasing and silly.
I was not prepared for business Stephen.

It took me a little while to be ok when he would try to explain things (in a basic way) without me thinking he was patronizing me. Or for me to be comfortable with him watching me do a transaction. Or for me to not blush when I had to ask him something I didn't know how to do or had forgotten from the previous day.

I think this working together will be fine. It's just going to take getting used to, mostly for me, I think. He seemed fine.

At any rate, I'm happy to have work and to get a paycheck. Stephen and I both have more than 40 hours next week, which is awesome. If he were working that much and I weren't doing anything but sitting at home, I'd go crazy.

So, my friends (and Anna Robertson), you now know the full story of my employment!

Wish me luck!