Two Weeks Notice

So a lot has changed since last I blogged. Mostly, my life has just changed. Like, I got a full-time job and met a neat guy and found a new place to live. I also made my part-time employee livid, was dealt the silent treatment by both said boss and fellow friend/co-worker, and have been sleeping anywhere but my nice comfy bed. It's been a leetle crazy. Things that I've learned about life: staying up until 3am is not the best idea as a rule, and if you know something is going to end, two weeks notice doesn't always help the situation...

Good things always come in threes, right? Numero uno of good life changing events: I got a new job. A good one. You know, like one with benefits, nice wages, power and domination. I'm the new manager for Hancock Fabrics. Ok, I know, who would be like "omg, I'm so excited to be manager of a fabric store for the rest of my life!" Well, maybe not for the rest of my life, but its not only an amazing step up from my current life in money, status and independence, but it could lead to other good things in the future. And I love fabric. I really do. Honestly, I didn't think that I was going to get the job. The sign for the position had been up for more than a month, so I just decided on a whim to take in an application on the off chance that they still hadn't found someone who was suitable for the job. After I got the interview I made the mistake of asking Heather if she had gotten an interview as well. She said she had and all of a sudden I realized my awkward mistake...

For those of you who don't know or who haven't cared, I had been living with Heather for the previous two months. Things were getting tense when we both decided to relieve the tension by me moving out. 'Twas fine, for I had found this cute little duplex to move into right after crazy convention week at Nuskin. Let's just say that I'm happy I found a place to live because if I thought things were awkward when I found out about the interviews, it was nothing compared to telling Heather that I got the job, having her tell my boss before I could, and not talking to me and ostracizing me from her family....well...it sucked.

Then I dated Nelson for two weeks. Then I learned some stuff. Then I worked.




"It's so cold in Norway, we have to work harder"
nuskin distributor from norway

Floor yanking.

Disconcerting....wait a minute, lemme look that up in a thesaurus and find a better term for my, um....er...disconcertment....Troubling? Disturbed? Yes, its these too, I just can't figure out the perfect word for this crease in my brow and muted countenance. I got a call this morning from a long time friend:

Z - "Hey."
B - "Hi, how are you?"
Z - "Good...so..."
B - "What's going on in your life?"
Z - "Hey, I think I need to take a break from our friendship for a little while..."
B - "....Oh. Well, ok, what's up?"
Z - "I just need to take a break."
B - "Are you ok?"
Z - "Yeah, I'm fine, just I've gotten a little out of control....and I just need some time..."
B - "Okay, well...okay."
Z - "Be safe and good."
B - "You too...see ya later."

Now I will write a draft of what was going through my head during this convo:

Z - "Hey."
B - "Hi, how are you?"

(Hm...he seems a little down...what time is it?...he never calls at this time of the morning. I guess we haven't talked in a little bit. Didn't he tell me that he was busy this week and would call me this weekend?)

Z - "Good...(is it? you don't sound like it is going very well) so...(hm...something's wrong, its been wrong for weeks now, but this is something different, I can feel it)"

B - "What's going on in your life?" (brace yourself?)

Z - "Hey, I think I need to take a break from our friendship for a little while."
(blank....huh?)

B - "....Oh. (that was unexpected) Well, ok, what's up?" (in other words, what the hell are you talking about?? Did you fall on your head in the last 24 hours or lost all your money in the stock market?...that would explain the weird, sad tone....)

Z - "I just need to take a break." (this is weird because when I wanted to "take a break" I just didn't answer the phone, I didn't make it a point to call him up and tell him...what the hell.)

B - "Are you ok?" (What does this have to do with? Are you in financial trouble? Did somebody die? Is there another gir--*gasp*.........I see.)

Z - "Yeah, I'm fine, just I've gotten a little out of control....and I just need some time..."
(*nods* hm. since when have you ever been not in control....what? Like drunken with power, cutting random people down (a la American Psycho) to satisfy your unquenchable thirst for world domination?)

B - "Okay, well...okay." (I'm pretty sure this is not ok...but I respect your decision because you respect mine...this sucks.)

Z - "Be safe and good." (I'll think about it....and this later....what the hell?)

B - "You too...see ya later." (what the.....)


Good thing I'm really cute when I'm disconcerted.

Junkies of Pain

I think that everyone has a finite amount of pain that they need to experience in this life that refines them enough to be perfect. Lest those of you scoff and point your fingers at those who cause unneeded suffering, is there such thing as unneeded suffering? Who's to say that one person's suffering isn't someone elses gain....er....I mean, like their experience can be a lesson to avoid such sorrow or a comfort to remind them that they are not alone. Perhaps all suffering is needed. The bitter with the sweet? Of course we all are able to make our own choices and I'm not saying that we are predestined to be miserable. But I think back on things that I've been through which others could consider unneccesary and I'm ok with it. Of course that may be because I have a gospel-like perspective (I don't claim to know anything concrete about the gospel...its a slippery little fellow) and I know that if I did something unknowing hurtful to someone and have a contrite heart and spirit, constantly repenting into a cooler awesomer being, I won't have to stand accountable for those mistakes.

but there must be a point when we finish suffering like we do as mortals and we become blinked in the eye...or changed in a blink. Blinkling of the eye? Changed in the twinkling of an eye, that's it!

Oui oui!

(That's pronounced wee wee to anyone who does not know French...) I am feeling very French today thanks to my fashion forward blunt banged bob and my linen pencil skirt I got from Italy last summer. I topped it off (literally) with a black silk blouse with a bow at the bosom and a cream silk/cotton cardigan with a scoop neck and mother of pearl buttons. Ok, so one of my favorite web bloopers of all times is this one found on a Janome sewing machine forum where a customer suggested a very interesting technique:

"I love to butthole appliqué on the 6600 . Try using #39 in mode 2."

I think about that sometimes when I sew and wish that my Brother sewing machine had a similar feature.


What is love? Baby don't hurt me, don't hurt me, no more. I miss Baby, Lois' little tyke. I think that I'm going to be a really good mom. Number 1, because I actually like and want kids, number 2, because I remember sometimes what its like to think like a little kid and thus can direct children to correct thinking through some of the same processes that I've found helpful in growing up, and number 3, 'cause I'm freakin' awesome. All I'm sayin' is that I will NOT marry somebody who doesn't share most or all of the same characteristics that I've just described.

I guess if I were a mom now I'd probably have lots to write about cute little things my kids do or the crazy whacked out crap that my teenagers would be up to, but I don't and you just can't make that stuff up. So what do I have to write about instead? Maybe I'll write about some of the things I know my mom encountered. Ha, I think Katie was the best worst child. Mummy used to do Mary Kay (I remember the big pink kit she used to have) and there was definitely an incriminating picture of little Tatty looking up with a nonchalant expression. Dark blue painted on eyebrows, bright red lips a la clown makeup, and various other shades and hues were spread across her 4-year-old little cheeks. I mostly remember the navy unibrow. Then of course there were other pictures of her wearing nothing but showing off a fabulous straw hat to the photographer. She was smart enough as a 5 year-old to cut up those pictures including the negatives.

I'm sure there's other things that I could pull up, although most of the others would be about my brothers which included much less girly stuff like clothes (or lack thereof) and makeup and much more blood. My brothers are so cute though, I've been so completely amazed to see them grow up. One of my favorite memories is was the like one time Richard threw a tantrum about a certain unmentionable. He must have been like 3 or 4 and have just gotten potty trained. I had received The Little Mermaid a year or two earlier and he and his younger brothers practically wore the thing out by watching it every second of the day. The tantrum in question was about the undies, he would refuse to wear any underwear unless they were Little Mermaid underwear. My mom was very clever, and because there was no such thing as little boy Little Mermaid underwear, for the first year of potty training little Woesherd, as we called him, wore girls panties. Because he would want to proudly show them off, unwilling to hide the miniature Ariels and Flounders under pants or jeans, when he needed some sturdy footwear he would pull on his black cowboy boots. Tromping around in that get up always made him happy. And now I am passing on the memory to all of our progeny.

There was that time when Boefer (Danny) was so little and Mom and Dad went to a football game in like Yakima or something. I honestly don't remember what I was doing, but at one point during the evening on of boys came in with a towel with blood on it saying that something was wrong with Danny. I walk into the laundry room and there he is sitting on the floor looking up at me with huge surprised/frightened eyes, sharp cat food lid in one hand, blood all over his little foot. I was freaked. After calling my Mia Maids teacher and getting to the ER (first time in my memory of doing so), the little baby had to get a bunch of stitches and we called his little tootsies "franken-toes" for the rest of his little baby life. Oh, I miss baby brothers, they're all taller than me now. But they still wouldn't dare to piss me off....:)

Two Good Songs in a Row

At work You Are So Beautiful to Me and What a Wonderful World played one after the other. Even though the latter was sung by Rod Steward (known as "Rod" by me and my boss Kerri) and not Mr. Armstrong, I was still soothed and happified. I wanted to talk a little about how everything is going to be okay. It seemed interesting that that one phrase, "everything is going to be okay" can always pacify me. I was talking to my friend Matt Christensen last night about everything under the sun, more specifically our present stated of religious discord, I realize that I depend on that feeling from Heavenly Father with my life. Mom helped with that too, and pointed out that during a particular despairing episode including weeping late one night, that the thought to drink a big class of water and a Tylenol PM and go to sleep was definitely a result of my mother's continuing presence in my life. I'm starting to think that maybe she does have more time to help her children with their eternal salvation on this earth rather than teaching others in the next...

Ha, I'm thinking evil thoughts...like since my boss isn't here today, putting Saturday's Warrior soundtrack in the cd player for the store instead of listening to the satellite radio station for 3 more hours. I won't, but it was a thought. SO. I realized something last night that I think I need to record (since my written journal is so much less accessible than this, I'll save my usual boy rantings and ravings for that...for now).

Talking with Matt, I realized that growing up in the church we are so very naive. Well, let me rephrase that; we have a naivety about ourselves. I remember very specifically learning what the Holy Ghost should feel like and how "wonderful" I would feel when I read the scriptures or said my prayers. There's nothing wrong with this, but I got to thinking that I and probably most other people have had a "Fall" of their own, a time when they are personally cut off from the Lord's presence. A lot of people would say something more like "you have to find your own testimony" implying that most have literally been relying on the testimonies of others their entire lives. But I don't know if that's necessarily true. I think we do have testimonies when we are younger, most would agree that children are way more susceptible to the spirit than adults.

Implying that we have a personal "Fall" means that we go from a state of being very susceptible to the spirit and communicating more closely to Heavenly Father to a state where we aren't as close and are only able to communicate comparatively poorly, relying on few spiritual experiences granted us to assure us that we're doin' stuff right. Ha, its no wonder that we're banished at some point in our lives for what we do, for heaven sakes, Adam got booted just for eating an apple! By actually implementing the Fall as a parable in our lives, we can see more clearly how to walk(or stumble) along our paths to reconnect face to face with God. Adam and Eve seemed to do it and I don't remember the Genesis biography as being a particularly ease-filled epic.

What I've found is that one of our biggest obstacles we face in this life is becoming comfortable with the communication system with Heavenly Father. Let's face it, its unpredictable (to us), illogical (to us) and needs a lot of servicing in order to function properly. Used one way once doesn't necessarily mean that a repeat of that experience is a given. But we have to figure out how to use it by ourselves or we are cut off. Looping back up to the paragraph previous, that's where Adam and Eve and all those other scripture heroes come in handy. It shows us that we are not alone, we are not the only ones going through this. That's one of the wisest things I've learned from Louise; just knowing that you're not the only one going through something makes it bearable.

My friends and I always joke about lowered expectations (usually when referring to relationships and ECs), but maybe our whole Mormon Culture Mentality needs a revamping in order to have lower expectations for what our Mormon lives should be. A song that has been stuck in my head for the past two days goes a somethin' a like a this:

When I grow up, I want to be a mother and have a family,
One little, two little, three little babies of my own.

So. After realizing that this initial brainwashing in my formative years, might have contributed a teensy eensy bit to my current unhappy baby-less situation, I was calmed to realize that I did really want these things, but still miffed that I was grown up and I did not have one little, two little, three little babies of my own. The song defaulted on its promise. Lesson that needs to be stamped back into our heads: we do not deserve anything, therefore we should expect nothing. That way we will be pleasantly surprised when we do get our babies. In regards to our "Falls"and our communications with the big guy, expect life to be hard, then when its easy we will be pleasantly surprised. None of this is gospel, if fact it might be good ole false doctrine, but it gives me that little peace which feels a lot like maybe I'm getting a little closer to my state before the Fall.

Why some girls are prettier and get married faster.

As I was shoving a chocolate frosted peanut butter bar from Hickory Kist into my face and I saw this pretty girl walk by and kind of glare at me. I could not help but notice the conspicuously placed bling on her left hand and once again reminded that I was not married. I've been thinking about this for a couple of weeks now and once upon a time I concluded that some people are meant to be baby-makers and some are not. That sounds mean, but its the only thing that helps me cope with not being able to keep up with the Jones and have a family like everyone else in the community. I'm pretty sure that mortals can't comprehend how they are special to God...just like everyone else so we have to place ourselves. Let's face it, its just really really hard to be undefined. Our point on this earth is to experience definition. Our mortal bodies are literally a defined version of our incomprehensible intelligentical beings. Satan hates hell because he doesn't get to be defined in a mortal body. So the whole point of our mortal existence is to define ourselves only to strive to embrace our undefinabilty once again and to use our bodies for good and to procreate.

*gasp*

And that's all I thought on that day.

My sister doth not love me...

Well does it really matter? I only think of her every time I lay me down onto my queen sized bed to slumber. We used to share a queen when we chucked the bunkbed on our way to Missouri. Long story short, the second half of my Senior year was spent kicking Katie of my side of the bed and plugging her nose so she wouldn't snore. Those damn adnoids....

Another sister is my faithful blog reader, Loise. Pronounced Loyz. It was very unfair to leave her hanging with my declaration that I'd be moving to LA. You'd better not tell you-know-who that I even have a blog because then I'd have to destroy the evidence and this is not a blog about HIM! I don't think I can do it. Every time I think about going through with it I just feel...blah. Like, I just have no desire to do it whatsoever to go anywhere near Cali. I don't really want to stay here, but when I think about going to Montana, there's a warmth in my innards that makes me feel good. I just don't know what I should do...

My good old friend at the PPC who's sister I knew my freshman year and who's sister new my brother in law school said this about marriage when i asked if I could indeed marry for money and a well-dressed man, "Marriage shouldn't be about love; it should be about commitment and building something." We were talking about all the well-dressed Japanese men who had infiltrated the store which reminded me of the 3-piece suit that Jerkface (blogged about 'im and now I've given him a name for all ya'lls) wore the last time we saw each other. It was a nice suit even though I practically begged him not to wear one...too official for the occasion, boo. Anyways, very soon afterwards I had an ROR (raugh out Roud) moment. A very well dressed and pretty Japanese woman asked me where the 'lestloom' was...

And then walked in a beautiful Venezuelan boy.

Okay, he had an entourage of his entire extended family, I guess that's how they do things in Venezuela. What am I talking about? He was the entourage to his bedangled gold-ring-plus-bracelet-wearing father, mother and grandparents. He had a little brother too. And maybe a great aunt. Not only is the father a person you might see depicted on some kind of mafia-type series set in Latin America, but he also has a lisp which makes this 240 pound man a leedle effeminate. It was cool and for helping them before John stepped in, daddy Venezuelan promised that the next time he came here into the store he would bring me back something from Venezuela. He had a kind smile so I accepted his offer.