Foot Conclusion

My dad is convinced that one of the reasons why I'm still single is because I blog. The following picture will probably only help his argument, but I just think it is too funny.

But let me explain first.

At the beginning of August I fractured my foot. I didn't realize it at the time, and I don't really know how I did it, but I have a pretty good guess. At the beginning of August, I was home in Ohio playing at being an assistant photographer for my good friend Holly's wedding. While doing that, I happened to be crawling on a few granite walls and jumping onto my bare feet on the hard cement. (I couldn't very well be doing that in heels, after all.) That was nearly seven weeks ago.

By Monday (two days after the wedding), my foot was swollen and painful. By Wednesday, I was hobbling around. There was no end to the puffiness.

By week four or five, I had had enough and went to the podiatrist. At first, he couldn't find anything wrong with it. So he sent me home with a compression sock and anti-inflammatory pills.

I happen to be leaving for Hawaii in three days (!!!!!!!!) and wanted to have some clothes to take with me. So while I was wearing this sexy compression sock (see above) I was also hobbling around the mall. Do you see this amazing outfit? I look like a total tourist of the Hawaiian islands. All I'm missing is a sun visor, fanny pack and binoculars.

On Labor Day, my doctor called and told me that he had rechecked my x-ray and had found a hairline fracture in my first metatarsal.

Since the swelling seemed to only be aggravated by wearing heels and wedges (I kept trying to make that work for me), I wasn't too concerned. But as my trip to Hawaii neared, I was a little bit worried. Bones take at least eight weeks to fully heal. Again, I'm only almost to the seventh week. So I called the doctor and he told me to come in and get a boot.

I didn't like the idea of wearing a boot. It seemed too dramatic for a hairline fracture (and that's saying something, considering it's me...) although, everywhere you read, "a fracture is a break, and no less severe." And, once you start wearing one, you can't just take it on and off, or it can reverse the good that it does when it is on. Besides that, I went to the office and played Goldilocks.

I tried on the Large boot, and it was much too big. I tried on the Small boot, and my little toesies hung over. I needed a Medium for it to be just right and the office didn't have one, and it would have to be ordered from California. The admin lady said that it would probably be in the office in two days, but it turned out to be yesterday.

By yesterday, I could see the veins in my foot. There is nothing more than a slight, dull ache. It's obviously gotten better. And there's no way I'm wearing a boot for the next two weeks, seeing as how I'll be playing tourist in Maui in three days (!!!!!!).

So, in conclusion: I broke my foot. It's getting better, and very nearly almost there. I'm not wearing a boot because my bones heal themselves. And I'm going to Hawaii.

Sans khaki shorts, Hawaiian shirts, and compression socks.

Zombie Slayer

After work today, I stopped at my favorite nail salon and got a manicure and pedicure. I'm pretty sure the nail techs were making fun of the polish choice, but it is really growing on me. Luckily, nothing matches hunter orange.

Still, I like them. Also, in case you are wondering, I'm totally sold on the Shellac nails. They require maintenance, which is annoying, and if you pick off the polish yourself, it really does a number (damage) on the nail underneath. But, as long as I have the polish on, it keeps them strong and amazing and they grow long and don't break.

Then, because I have absolutely nothing to eat in my house, and I just happened to be driving next to Cafe Rio, I picked up a burrito. Delicious.

After, I got to preview a friend's film that will be submitted to the Sundance Film Festival this week.

And then I killed zombies for a couple of hours.

I have to admit, this whole zombie slaying thing never much interested in me. Nor did picking up the controller to any modern day game console. But, the boys have an Xbox and a zombie-slaying game, and even though I'm terrible at it, I can't help but slash away with my melee weapon and shoot at the chargers and boomers and whatever. I can't figure out ladders and aiming, and I easily get lost... but, there's been improvement and they haven't kicked me out of the house yet.

It's kind of fun. For a video game. I guess.

Overall, a good night.

Friend Zone

It's not that hard.

The Tooth Fairy

There have been a few posts on Facebook about the Tooth Fairy visiting certain little kids today, and it made me think about my own experiences losing my baby teeth.

The first tooth I lost, I happened to be in Utah. My tooth was extremely loose, and I was nervous that it would hurt, so I refused to pull on it. I wiggled it plenty, but I didn't want it to actually fall out. We were in town for a family reunion (or funeral) and my uncles teased me relentlessly. My Uncle Allen and my grandpa chased me around my great grandparents' house with pliers and I was so nervous that they were seriously going to rip my tooth out of my face with pliers, that I hid in the bathroom and determined to remove the tooth myself.

My mom came in and helped me do it. It literally took seconds, because it was so loose from me playing with it the whole time, it didn't take much to get it out.

All that worrying for nothing.

The Tooth Fairy was extremely generous. I think I made something between $7 and $10. And that's because each of my uncles and my grandparents all contributed to the fund.

After that, though, I had a whole mouth of teeth, and there was just no way the Tooth Fairy could match what I had made in Utah. In fact, she never did come again. Or, I might have gotten an occasional quarter or so for a few other teeth. But she definitely wasn't consistent.

I guess the Tooth Fairy only has so much to give out, and if she happens to give it to you as an advance, you don't get any more, regardless, of how many teeth you have left.

It's funny how the Tooth Fairy allows for inflation. I swear that even though, after that first tooth, I was only getting nickels or quarters, my younger siblings got dollars. Real DOLLARS. Can you believe it?

I like some of the ideas that I have read online today about giving kids a gold dollar for their tooth. It's nothing extraneous or undeserved, but it is still special and not something that the kid would see on a regular basis. Perfect.

The Results Are In (from the doctor)

Summary: I spent the day at doctor's appointments and doing tests and labs and my insurance's website is crazy awesome because I already have the results posted online for me to look at. Oh. And I'm not dying; or anything like that.

You should not read further, if you don't want to know.
----------------------------------------------------------

I called the doctor yesterday because I wanted to be reassured that everything would be "in order" for me to go to Hawaii in 11 days. There are a few things that need to be cleared up, and it better happen or I'm going to be ticked.

The phone call resulted in an appointment scheduled today, and after dropping my dear Bronwyn off at the airport, that meant that I clocked in for one hour before medical stuff got in the way of the rest of my day. Because at my appointment, the doctor decided that I should probably have an ultrasound just in case. So I had to phone the office and tell them that instead of coming back, I had to go to the hospital.

I had my first set of ultrasounds when I was about 13 years old. The doctor did an internal ultrasound, and in my head up until last year when I had my second one, I remembered the wand being the size of a cucumber. It's not. I also remember going to do the regular ultrasound, with my poor father in tow, with two liters of water practically leaking out of my bladder as the technician pushed and plunged and dug around to get the images, making me hurt and so uncomfortable I wanted to cry. (And also, my DAD was there while I, a 13-year old girl, was having her uterus and ovaries examined. Traum.a.tizing. Just saying.)

Anyway, I guess with age comes a little less fear of the unknown, and a little less of the unknown, since I've been through this all before. I didn't try to drink SO much water, so I wasn't dying, and it really wasn't all that bad. Although, the tech probably thought I was a little crazy since I was insisting that the whole appointment would be a lot more fun if there were a baby to look at. Or that I was looking forward to the hemorrhagic cyst that could potentially burst at any moment.... And even though I didn't say it, I was thinking it... haha. Never mind. I can't even put it on my blog.

But the very best part, is that with online insurance portals and people being able to type of their reports and everything, I looked up the results a mere six hours later. And I knew I could do this, because when I did other lab work at my last doctor's appointment, the results were posted hours later as well. The doctor's office will probably call again tomorrow, but for the most part, I'm reading good news that will make Hawaii even better, as long as everything cooperates.

(I'm going to have to look into getting a different podiatrist, though, since he is clearly not as technologically advanced as these other offices. That being said, there should be a medium sized boot with my name on it in his office within the next day or so. I kind of wish he had posted my x-rays online, so that I could show everyone the alleged extra bone in my foot!)

*Also, do yourself a favor and do not Google hemorrhagic ovarian cyst images. Seriously. Don't.

Is Everyone Hanging Out Without Me? (And Other Concerns)

Mindy Kaling has a book called Is Everyone Hanging Out Without Me? (And Other Concerns). I've read it. She's funny. But the title is honestly my favorite part, because I feel like it should/would be the title of my own autobiography.

The thing is, I have this problem. I'm a fairly jealous friend. I think part of it stems from my elementary school days, where I spent 95% of my time with one friend, and then in the 6th grade, I began to be edged out. It was fairly traumatizing, even though I feel like I tried to save face for many, many years after that. I remember having a conversation with her, where I put myself out on the line and told her that she was my very best friend.

She told me that I was not hers. Her best friend happened to be a cousin. Which was totally fine, but it still hurt. But that has set a sort of pattern in my life, where I think I've developed this really close relationship with someone, and then it turns out that I'm the lowest possible thing on their priority list, even though they are the highest on mine.

When my elementary school best friend started introducing new people into her social circle, they were other girls that I had little in common with. And since my best friend knew that, she used that as an excuse to stop inviting me to things. "I knew you wouldn't like [this activity]/[this person] so I knew you wouldn't want to come."

I spent most of junior high and high school with a couple of close friends, but largely felt that I didn't need to worry about friends at all because I was busy doing everything I could to get into BYU. I knew I would make friends in Provo, so what did I need large groups of friends in Troy, Ohio, for anyway? I think it was largely a coping mechanism; an excuse for spending my weekend nights babysitting instead of partying.

Still, there were the few times when I did go to a party or in a group of people and realized that most of these kids didn't know who I really was. They didn't care that I was there. And they wouldn't care if I weren't. I didn't like that feeling.

It took me years in Provo to finally make an actual GROUP of friends. People that I hung out with on a regular basis. People that wanted me to attend their group activities, seemed genuinely sad when I couldn't make it because of work or other obligations. People who loved me as I was and not who they expected me to be.

But then, as tends to happen in this stage of life, they started getting married, going to grad school, and moving around the globe. So I started picking up the pieces and finding a new group of friends. And for the most part, I feel like I have succeeded in making a group of friends that know me, and love me despite my flaws. But on occasion, and within a certain sector of this group of friends, there's that old feeling that for the most part, they could take me or leave me; and a lot of the times, they do. Leave me, I mean.

In my mind, I would rather not be included at all, then feel like each invite is some sort of charity thing or place filler. If I'm not wanted, then, I don't want to be there. I don't feel like that is a completely irrational thing. But I also don't want to hear about all the fun times I'm missing out on. It's not like you have this friend in Salt Lake that you hang out with, and then come back and tell me what you did. It's like, you have a group of what, I thought, were mutual friends, and you hang out and come back and talk about everything as if I were there, or should have been there, when I had no idea anything was going on in the first place.

I can only beg to be invited to certain activities for so long, before my pride gets in the way.

But it's fine. Because in a few more months, people will have left because they've graduated, or because they are getting married, or whatever. Because that is life in Provo. And I'll start searching for a new group of people to be friends with.

Underpaid

Oh dear.

I've just come back from a Relief Society activity where the first counselor of our bishopric gave a little presentation on money. You know, the standard, don't spend more than you make, put some away in savings, and for. the. love. get out of debt.



It was a good presentation, even if I have heard all of this before. Which only proved Brother Christensen's first point, that spending habits are a behavioral problem, and not an ignorance/knowledge problem. (Unless you're a Democrat? Just kidding. That's behavioral too. Ha. I'm kidding.)

Anyway, the above chart happened to be in his presentation and the data was from 2007, so I decided to look up more recent figures -- you know, ones that include recession numbers and such -- and I found that they are fairly comparable.

The thing not comparable? My own salary.

Not that I didn't know that, of course. I'd like to see....(pause while I Google this...) what the national average vs. state numbers are because I really believe that one of the reasons Utah's economy works so well, is because we don't pay our educated masses all that much. It's like outsourcing, only, with qualified people. (Two things: I didn't find a chart when I Googled. Maybe I should have Binged. But that doesn't have the same ring to it. And also, if you want to see what I'm talking about, just look at some of the job ads that they stuff like "Master's Degree preferred, but are only offering $30,000/year wages.)

Anyway, I'm making -- and this is before taxes -- the same as what this chart says someone with a high school diploma makes. Not even what a person with "some college" makes. Which is sort of depressing. But maybe they aren't taking into account the people that may have graduated but aren't working in their field. Or something.

Either way, it's pretty clear that I'm not working in a field where my education has paid. So... I know what that means I need to do. But I also don't know how to go about doing it. My first thought was that I should probably email this chart to my boss. Or, all the bosses in Utah.

My Name

Your First Name of: Shelli Below is a brief analysis of the first name only.
For an analysis of your full name and destiny, see our full free Name and Birth Date Report service for further details. 

•  The name of Shelli creates a very versatile and creative nature. 
•  You are quick-minded and have the freedom of expression to mix easily with people. Because your feelings and desires are so changeable, you are never satisfied with conditions as they are.
• You have many ideas, plans, and ambitions, but too often they are for an easy way out of a difficulty or an easy way of making money. 
• You seek change in order to have the opportunity for travel, new experiences, and new friends and associates.
• You find it difficult to systematize your efforts and to fulfill your obligations and plans as you are not inclined to apply yourself consistently to a job to reach your goals. 
• Although you appear positive, you inwardly lack self-confidence and will-power. 
• Although the name Shelli creates an active mind and a restless urge to explore new ideas, we emphasize that it causes procrastination, lack of confidence, and the inability to realize your goals and ambitions. 

This name, when combined with the last name, can frustrate happiness, contentment, and success, as well as cause health weaknesses in the solar plexus, and fluid systems.

http://www.kabalarians.com/cfm/DisplayNameAnalysis.cfm

All the Possibilities

I go through phases with online dating. Mostly I hate it. Or maybe not even mostly. I hate it. But, even I have to admit that you get some pretty good stories out of it. You really never know who or what is going to come out of the wood works when you post your profile and a few flattering pictures online, and let strange men from around the country filter through.

If you are lucky, though, you get stuff like this:

hey there, im mike, I just moved to Provo. I came across your profile and like it, wow you're really cute. I'm passive towards my past girlfriends , so I'm looking for a girlfriend that is dominant or controlling. Are you like this? 

Or even better:

Hi I know this is very random and out of the blue. But I was wondering if you are into crossdressers at all.
I have been very interested lately in trying find someone who shares the same interest as me. But I was online and noticed you where so I thought I'd give you a shout out.
I think it would be fun to have someone to get all dressed up with, since there isn't really any places for crossdressers to go in Utah. Haha.
Anyway. Sorry if I come across as crazy. I know it's pretty odd. But if you're interested I'd love to hear back from you. :)

My favorite is this compliment that I got yesterday:

Random but ur gorgeous lol sorry 

 It really does amaze me, like, blows me away, that the internet has been a place where normal people have been able to find their future spouses. Although, now that I think about it, we don't know how normal they really are. Maybe their seemingly perfectly normal marriage started out with a message like one of these...

But really, can you blame me for hating online dating? When stuff like this seems to be my only options, it becomes a little more depressing than actually amusing.

Too Heavy

He turned to look at me, as he always did when answering a question, but to my surprise he said nothing. At last he stood up, lifted his traveling case from the rack over our heads, and set it on the floor.
"Will you carry it off the train, Corrie?" he said.
I stood up and tugged at it. It was crammed with the watches and spare parts he had purchased that morning.
"It's too heavy," I said.
"Yes," he said. "And it would be a pretty poor father who would ask his little girl to carry such a load. It's the same way, Corrie, with knowledge. Some knowledge is too heavy for children. When you are older and stronger you can bear it. For now you must trust me to carry it for you."
And I was satisfied. 

The Hiding Place, Corrie Ten Bloom, pp. 26-27