Still nothing new to report....Sorry.

Really Really Sorry

I know I haven't written in a while. I know that. I'm sorry.

MY LIFE IS JUST SO BORING RIGHT NOW!!! I like it. But to everyone else it's probably boring. There isn't much to even say about my trip home. Except that it was relaxing.

Sorry to both of you guys who read this. Please forgive me :)

Adventures In The Chair

I am a self-proclaimed procrastinator in two things: filling the gas tank, and going to the dentist. You can guess which one gets me into more trouble.

Its not the needles. Really. (even though I know from personal experience which spot in your mouth is the most painful to receive anesthetic) Its not the numb lip, or the little bib they put around you just in case the local anesthetic causes you to loose control of your saliva glands. It isn't even the instruments that mimic the shrieks echoing from the darkest depths of hell.

No. What keeps me far away from any animated teeth wearing shades and grasping toothbrushes like sabers, is the ridicule. That's right. Dentists are snobby, money hungry, and just down right mean! And not to mention creepy.

Here's how I see it. If I'm going to shell out HUNDREDS, maybe even THOUSANDS of dollars I expect not necessarily respect but to at least be treated like a human being.

You have to understand....I got braces when I was in 4th grade, and didn't even get them off until I was a freshman in high school. Braces are a life changing event. Believe me, I could dedicate and entire blog just to the horrors of headgear. Its not like you go to the orthodontist one day, and he's like, "Here's your braces, have a nice day!" Oh no! Check-ups every 8 weeks. And usually with check-ups come....*grimace*.....tightening.

The Ortho tries to dress it up and make it "fun" by letting you choose the shade of rubber band he so sadistically wraps around your tooth. "Well it's December now. How about some Christmas colors, eh?"

Eggh. Anyway. That's not the worst of it. Every check-up the ortho would be "frustrated" because the progress wasn't going the way he'd expected. He'd complain that I wasn't brushing right or not wearing my headgear. (even though I had the dark circles from sleepless nights to prove it!) I would always think, well, stop crabbing at me. I'm 13. I didn't put these on myself. ;/

But probably the most disturbing visit was the last one, when he presented me with Polaroids of my progress through the ages. I was non-nonchalantly flipping through them when I found ones of my eleven year old self passed out cold in the chair.

"Oh, that's when you fell asleep," he played off. "Isn't it cute?"

Just for the record, I don't ever remember being asleep there. EVER.

I'll admit, getting my wisdom teeth surgically removed was probably the best two weekends of my life. They basically consisted of skipping work, sleeping, watching movies, eating ice cream, and taking controlled substances in two hour intervals.

Few years back I had a root canal and had to go to an "specialist." The entire two hours I was in that chair he never said one word to me that wasn't some sort of a command. No "hello, I'm the guy with the drill," no exchanging of pleasantries, nothing. I might as well have been a Mitsubishi.

But I digress....

Over the last few years, there have been several occurrences where a normal person would have gone to the dentist. I never got a crown on one of my root canals. This negligence resulted in a swirling black hole where enamel should be on my back molar. Last year, my front tooth filling was pulled off by a starburst, leaving behind an embarrassing brown spot. Oh well, I thought. At least I'll fit in better at Walmart.

For a few months I ate on the right side of my mouth, because if the other side came in contact with anything like salt, sugar, hot or cold beverage, I would sometimes feel a sharp pain jetting up into my upper jaw. The pain would eventually throb into the neighbor teeth until it was calmed by ibuprofen. But eventually ibuprofen stopped working. And even extra strength Tylenol stopped soothing the pain. Once I started waking up in the middle of the night and swallowing any pills I could find, hoping and praying that I would wake up alive the next day, I knew my fate was inevitable. I was going to have to go to the dentist.

With a heavy heart, I broke the news to Matt at 4 am. We have no insurance. This was going to be a doosie. Over two thousand dollars, according to the only dentist that was open on a Saturday. Luckily, he was so busy, he just prescribed me some awesome drugs and rescheduled me for a week later. Leaving me plenty of time to search for a cheeper, I mean, second opinion.

And I found one. Following rumors and doing my homework saved us about $800. And I'll say, this place was more like a day spa than a dentist's office. An LCD t.v. A fire place in the corner, (next to the chaise, of coarse) and headphones. The hygienist put a fancy pillow under my knees and a gas mask over my nose. I really want to bottle that stuff and bring it home. That stuff is great. The best way I can put it into words, is that I was (excuse my french) tripping balls. I was totally disconnected from my body, having a "meaning of life" conversation with...someone....I think it was a Care Bear. The green one. Or maybe the yellow one. And when I closed my eyes, I learned the most intricate secrets of the universe. To bad I can't remember any of it.

I do remember this. Dr. Dentist waited till I was completely under to say, out of no where, "I really hope your husband appreciates you." To which I replied, "Its all good."

That's what Care Bear said anyway.

Matt Starts School

Its only been two days, but take one look at our apartment and you'll know it is currently occupied by a student. A backpack, fully stocked, sits anxiously by the front door. Books and binders are scattered about the couch and coffee table. The computer in the bedroom constantly displays a document written in some sort of foreign math format.

When Matthew is home, he is distant - with good reason. He is either nose deep in a heavy text book, frantically scribbling on a piece of paper, or hunched over the computer desperately trying to stay awake. I only utter a few select phrases to him, and he usually only responds after a long pause. I really don't mind. I mostly feel sorry for him.

This brings mixed feelings on my part. After a long, somewhat leisurely, semester off, we are both excited he is progressing in his schooling again. But I'm also suppressing my worries. He is taking some difficult classes, and while I'm confident he can do it, I don't want him to be overwhelmed. I also can't help but think back to last summer. It sucked. Many times we passed each other on the stairs and I only saw him to kiss him goodnight and good morning. While others packed up to go camping or travel to see family, we shlepped off to our jobs, exhausted. We were, however, very blessed to spend a weekend with his sister after a lot of fanagling and maneuvering.

I'm hoping this summer will be different. I know it will be on my part at least. I know what to expect from him right now, and I honestly have come to terms with it. I think I will enjoy our time together a lot more now. I know "dates" will be fewer and farther between, but we can still have little moments during the day when his mind isn't on school or work. I know that on these dates he may feel the need to trace the PH formula on the restaurant table cloth. But it's all part of his learning process. I'm also working less hours at the job I hate than I was last summer. I have a feeling that's going to help a lot.

But I'll let you know how it goes.

Feb, Mar, Apr.

For a couple of reasons, I've fallen out of the blogsphere for a while. Mostly because its hard for me to write when I don't have anything to write about. For the last couple of months, the blogs that I read all seem to consist of topics like, "I'm having a baby!" or "I graduated!" or "We're moving!" "We bought a house!" "Baby pictures!" "I got the job!"

Which are all great, happy things. But the most breaking news in my life would have to be...."I bought new jeans!" I'm not unhappy with my life, (except for one teensy weensy part of it....226 days) but in this place it constantly feels like everyone is rushing past my while we are just slowly creeping along. I'm very hesitant to get to know people, since most likely they will be leaving this land of limbo before I do.

One of the blogs I read is a girl who mostly writes about the stuff she likes to read and watch. I couldn't do much of that either, since most things I like aren't very popular and I'm kind of embarrassed by them.

So with nothing important to say, I've just said nothing at all. My father-in-law, who is one of the two people that read this blog, has been missing it, which is kinda nice to know. So for his sake, here is what's been going on the last few months:

I'm still working. At the gym and WM. The gym is great. Its hard work, but it feels good to be using a skill I have to make a living. A meager one, but a living nonetheless. WM still sucks. Even more so, now that they instituted this new program that makes us write down everything we do and take our breaks at specific times. We have about as much independence as kindergartners during nap time. Not to mention it makes every weekend an 18 hour period for me to think about the terrible decisions I made in high school and college.

That's basically all thats new, er, going on, with me specifically. I'm thinking about making a decision. Something that would change a lot of things. But I'm not going to make any official announcement until I tell my parents. Matt is still working full-time, but getting ready to go back to part time as the new semester starts. I'll be praying hard for him everyday, since he's taking a lot of brain melting classes. I know he can do it, but not without a lot of studying and patience.

I'm getting excited for the warm weather. There was a blizzard today :) Yesterday was really nice though. We took a walk without jackets on. And this morning, I had to shovel out the car.

*shrugs*

Joyeux Anniversaire!!

My Burffday. (cuz that's how black people say it)

My birthday started out like any other day. I got up sometime around 8 am, and picked out my sweatpants for the day. Being that this was a special day, I chose the snazzy black velvet sweatpants and matching jacket that Kaye got me for Christmas. I absolutely love it. It's pretty much the most professional sweatsuit I've ever seen.

On the way to work I grabbed breakfast at Jamba, a special treat I do about once a month. No one really knew it was my birthday, but I didn't mind. I used the time to quietly soak in the concept of 25. I actually have a strict "NO WORK ON BIRTHDAY" policy. But I'm only at the gym on Mondays for about 2 1/2 hours anyway. Everyone tells me how much my kids miss me when I'm gone so rather than finding a sub I just celebrated with them.

After work I just took the next few hours to relax. I took a long shower and layed around while my hair dried watching Marie Antoinette, a birthday tradition I started about three years ago. Its one of my favorite movies, for lots of little reasons I have a hard time explaining.

All the while, Matt was running around doing errands. It was weird to sit there and let him do everything. During the afternoon he was in and out of the apartment twice, bringing in shopping bags and making phone calls. "Is that what I look like?" I wondered.

Monday was not only my birthday, but also the only night that Matt, myself, Scott and Chelsea were all off work. We owe them dinner for a lot of help they gave us during our car crisis. So we went to 5 GUYS. Best. Burgers. Ever. And fries. Don't even argue with me.

After dinner we met more friends at this little joint in Rex where you can play laser tag and mini-golf. I decided I wanted to go out and actually DO something for my birthday, and that is pretty much the only indoor activity in Rexburg except the rock wall company that is in the gym I work at. :/

I'll be honest, laser tag could have been better. I've only been twice before, and both times were really fun, the main reason being our group of friends were the only individuals involved. But this particular night at The Craze was hoppin'. Lots of FHE families wanted to play laser tag and The Craze shoved as many people in that room that standard fire codes would allow. So, being under the impression that I was going to play laser tag with MY friends on MY birthday and was instead forced into a room of strangers, the majority of them being pre-adolescent boys who do nothing all night but first-person-shooters, I was a little perturbed.

It was literally like shooting fish in a barrel. And more often than not, I was a fish. Once I figured out my strategy of crouching in one place and shooting anyone that came near me, it was fun.

After The Craze, we went back to my apartment lounge and had burffday cake. A few days earlier, Matt and I went to the grocery store and picked out a cute little white chocolate and strawberry number.

This is how dorky the people are I hang out with are: When "Happy Birthday" was sung, I heard three different languages!

Aubrey said Matt did a really good job picking out my presents and I'll say I have to agree. Since I was debating so long about whether or not I wanted a birthday, I never really told him what I wanted. When he would ask me, jokingly I would say, "A basket of assorted kittens, or one puppy." But he took all of my interests and hobbies in mind and did a great job. I love him :)

279 Days

First of all, Kudos to Stacey for knowing who Lady Yuna is. I honestly wasn't expecting that ;)

I have good news. (imagine that) Stay tuned.....

So. The deadline I've been dreading for a while now has begun to rear it's sparkly little head. My 25th birthday.

25 has always been a big deal to me. Never mind I'm halfway to fifty, inching older every year has never bothered me. Back in the day, of my nine year old mind, 25 was how old Barbie was; with her shiny plastic heels to match her pink corvette, her rock star boyfriend, her glamorous job as a flight attendant, and of course, her magical endless closet. That is what 25 was to me.

Now a days, 25 has brought me the hot blonde guy, a cute car, and a pretty sweet closet and the boobs to go with it. Frankly, I have the most glamorous job you can have while wearing sweatpants and a babydoll tee. But in all honesty, the Barbie in me blossomed a little early.

I remember my 22nd birthday vividly: Lounging in my walk in closet, bare legs flung against the angel wing mural I painted myself. Admiring the way my tan ankles looked in my gold glitter peeped toed heels as I gabbed to my bff, absentmindedly twirling a blonde lock through my fingers. I was telling her how stoked I was that the cute blue eyed boy I hadn't seen since highschool called to wish me a happy birthday. <----guess who) The birthday card and rose from my disposable crush tossed aside on the floor beside me. All the while, my roommate waiting impatiently for me to hurry up and get ready so he could take me out for a drink.

So I've had my fun. And I kept what was important from those experiences. The blue eyed boy, and the gold glitter shoes. (I took a picture of the mural and then reluctantly painted over it when I moved out.)

The thing is, when I pictured my life at 25, I never imagined I would be working a crap job at a place I hate. I didn't know how, but I always thought I would amount to something better than that. sigh.

I'm a gym coach through the week, and only work there on the weekends to supplement hours, I know. I do realize this. But I'm just not sure the parents of my students do....Don't, for one second, think I don't notice the slight frown in their scrutinizing eyebrows after they say, "Oh, you *work* here." Yes. Sadly, I do. The job, itself, I don't mind. I fold clothes. I answer the phones. whatev. The other five and a half hours of the day, I go bother Matt, browse the magazines, and take power naps in the bathroom. If it weren't for the costumers, it would be a pretty fun job. I don't even mind the mindless questions. But there is no end to the amount of disrespect I have to grin and bear through. And so it was last weekend that I reached my breaking point.

Observe:

I was sniffing the candles and testing the new throw pillows, minding my own business, when they called me up to "people greet". I politely declined. I told them I didn't do that, but it turns out I was the only one in the entire store who was available. Still, I refused, pointing out that "people greeting" is a useless job and was not the best use of my time. Do you know what the manger's insistent excuse was? Do you???? And I qoute, "It's store policy. You have to do it, or you will be coached." Coached is the ninny pants way of saying "written up". I had no problem with being handed a pink piece of paper I could crumple up and toss away, but I figured my husband might be upset.

Long story short, I swallowed the last few ounces of my dignity, gazed into the eyes of strangers and uttered muted hellos. It was terrifying, I assure you. As the nightmare unfolded, I began to remember all my high school teachers threatening us with this very experience. Stay in school, or all you will amount to is a people greeter at walmart. I began to think back and reflect on the decisions of my life that had lead me to that moment. Matt must have noticed the tears beginning to well up in my eyes because he came over and heroicly took my place. I heart him.

He didn't mind it, he said. It reminded him of being on his mission.

It was after that I decided that I had the ability to decide this was going to be over. I wanted a light at the end of the humiliating tunnel. That's why I chose Black Friday. 279 days from now. To support Matt on the one day of the year hell breaks loose on earth, I will fight honorably beside him. Then I will hang up my name badge forever, and together we will celebrate with a long nap and chinese food. Matt graduates a few months after that anyway. We'll live...one way or another.


Later I'll post about my trip home. It was a good one :)