Missing You

Missing people, things, etc. is a fairly normal thing. We miss our best friend from elementary school that we don't talk to anymore. Or our grandparents who have passed away. Sometimes I miss school.........ok, not really the last one. We miss exes. We miss family who lives far away. We miss family activities and traditions.

But missing things we've never had doesn't really make sense at all. And yet, sometimes there isn't another way to describe the empty feeling. You're just missing....whatever it is.

I miss playing the piano. I've never learned how to play, but I see a piano and I miss playing it. I think I could have been good if ever I had taken the time to practice and to learn how to read the bass clef. I only ever had a handful of lessons and then because of scheduling and moving out to Utah, they stopped and I never really learned how to play anything harder than March of the Fairies.

I miss having a young, fit body. That sounds disturbing, but it's true nonetheless. I haven't been thin since I was about six years old, so missing this...well, it's sort of ridiculous. I've never really been in shape. I have never played sports well because of it. Still, the older I get, the less likely I will ever have such a thing.

And then of course, when I'm laying down at night waiting for sleep to come, sometimes I miss the person who would be sleeping beside me. Someone who would have already warmed up that other side and would curl an arm around me and pull me close. This, I can safely say, has never happened. And therefore is perposterous to miss.

But sometimes you miss things that you have no right, no reason, no experience to miss. And miss it you do. It all comes and goes. I realize that I have great friends to fill the place of that long-lost friend from elementary school. I can't play the piano, but I can enjoy practicing my flute or singing or listening to others play the piano. I play racquetball or tennis and find dresses or something that flatters my body despite my size. And in the end, I realize that I have a fairly full and content life and I don't need to be missing anything at all. (Except my family, who no matter what lives 2000+ miles away and still does family activities without me - of which, I will always miss.)

Open Bookshelf

I have a small, pleasantly full bookshelf sitting in my room. It is one of my favorite things. I love that I have books. Not so much when I move...but any other time, I really love that I have my own library. I've read 94% of the books that are on my shelf. There are just a few exceptions where I haven't gotten to them or I had to stop reading them because they bored me to tears or because they are text books. Regardless, I love them.

I love them so much that I often say, "feel free to borrow _________ when ever you'd like." And then I realize that no one seems to like the same books I do. With the exception of my text books and few travel books, small bit of classics, Latin dictionaries, etc. I have a very specific taste in novels and they litter my bookshelf. I think they are very attractive. All matching and organized by author and genre. But others do not really like the idea of my books.

My bookshelf also finds itself to be full of the same author. I love finding an author that I can trust. One that will deliver each and every time. And when I do, I tend to go crazy and buy all the books that that particular author has put out.and that is what my bookshelf reflects right now.

I wish I had a bookshelf that were bigger and fuller of different things. I would buy more classics. I would definitely buy more church books. I would complete my Outlander series. I would have room to fit the 20 odd books that I accidentally won on Ebay yesterday for so cheap... all by the same author. Actually, I could probably do all those things if I had more money, not necessarily more space on my bookshelf.

Regardless, I am always open to sharing my books, if anyone is interested.

Where My Girlfriends At?

Becca and I have stumbled upon a bit of a problem. When we organize events, we like to try and have even numbers of guys and girls. That way, guys can't complain about it being a "sausage fest", we don't get annoyed with girlish drama and couples don't feel isolated.

While planning a recent activity (recent as in last night) we realized that the smaller we tried to make it, the more the girls got cut. Apparently, we are lacking in girlfriends among our most intimate of social circles. Most of our very best girlfriends have either gotten married, had babies or moved out of the state. The few that were left were working or out of town.

In the end, it worked out fine. It was fairly even. But the whole time I was wondering, "Where my girlfriends at?" It made me really miss those that have taken off in the past year or so.

Not that I don't love my guy friends. I mean, really.... it's a non-issue that we have more guy friends than girl friends. To me, this is preferable. Guys are hilarious, and they smell really, really good. And they're fun to cuddle with. And give good hugs. And make me laugh, a lot.

In which she proves that she is not nearly as talented as her mother...

My mom is very talented - or as I was thinking in a Scottish accent just now, "verra talented" - when it comes to lots of things, but right now I am discussing cakes. My recent adventures with decorating cupcakes made me want to make more and to have fun experimenting with different tips and different things my mom has attempted to teach me over the years.

I'm not even close.

For some reason, I can't ever get the frosting consistency anywhere near to where it is supposed to be. It's usually so runny that the Crisco and the water start separating. This is not good for any sort of decorating purposes. Even when I think I have it close... I don't.

I can never get the cake out of the pan. So my cake usually looks like this:

Yup. That's yummy looking.

And by the end of it all, I get frustrated that my roses won't turn out (have I ever been able to make a rose? No. Does that keep me from trying? No.) And then I just get bored, because everything I want to do, I can't actually execute.

So then my cake looks like this:

The important thing is that in the end, it usually tastes fine. Good even. My mom did teach me how to bake a cake properly (one box + good timing = deliciously moist cake ((p.s. if you can come up with a better word than moist to describe a perfectly cooked cake that isn't dry, I'll give you bonus points))) and the frosting's flavor is never really off. It has been, but this time it wasn't.

In the end, I'm always looking something along the lines of this:

Wondering why I even bothered to decorate the cake in the first place. Next time, I should just buy the frosting with the rainbow chips. I feel sorry for my children.... they are going to have ugly birthday cakes.

Irrational

Look, I know I am not always the most rational or logical person in the world. So when I admit that there are a few things that irrationally irritate me to death, well, just know that I do realize that it is irrational. I just can't help it.

Like faxes. I hate faxes. I hate when people ask me to fax them something and I hate even more when a fax shows up and is requesting for information. Seriously? Don't you know that there is a magical thing called EMAIL? And you can't get information just that much quicker and without wasting paper and without all the annoying beeping and sputtering and jamming my fax machine? Do you really think I am going to run over and jump to the fax machine when I hear it go off and it has already made me angry because it just sucked up 15 pages instead of the one it needed and then read your question and want to answer it? No. I want to ignore it. Because faxes are obsolete. And annoying.

Another thing: Snow in May. I don't care that it means that we aren't going to be in a drought this summer. Whoopie-do. It's MAY! I was enjoying the new, baby leaves and the flowers and the fact that we might just have warmer weather. Oh wait, we're going to be in the 70s by Wednesday. What the heck is that about? Should I be grateful that I got the opportunity to don my coat one more time this year? NO WAY. Man, I was ticked this morning.

And finally, my friend Meghan was telling me about this returned missionary who spoke in her ward yesterday that just really bugged me.

Meghan: anyway, he kept going on and on about this story about this guy and then he told about how 6 weeks before he was going home, the sister missionaries were teaching the guy's wife

and he went on this ramble/tirade about how sisters missionaries and sweet and nice (said very condescendingly) and made great cooks and stuff, but weren't "in-tune and forceful" enough to be missionaries...

...are sweet and nice

I seriously almost chocked him with my eyes

and Jared was going apoplectic because his lesson the previous week was about respecting women and all the YM had this horrible attitude, so he was like "great, now they're going to think it's ok to be misogynistic douches"

and we muttered the rest of the time with the people in the bench behind us

 Unacceptable. There are no...pleasant...words for attitudes like that.