In Other News...

Just want to start off by giving a shout out to all the stranger old men in the periphery of my life who  like to ask me personal, probing questions about dating even though I don’t know them.  You know, temple workers, cashiers at Fry’s, the FedEx guys, and random people who come into my office during the workday.  

For example: an unnecessary casual conversation I had the other day with a married salesman I’d only met once before in my life like six months ago: 

Salesman Tim: So how are things going for you in your personal life? How’s your fiancé?

ME: (blank stare)

Salesman Tim: Or, excuse me, your boyfriend? Why hasn’t he proposed yet?

Oh, um probably because HE DOESN’T EXIST but thanks for the reminder total stranger man whose business this is not. Whatever. 

Oh and then last week, after attempting to visit teach a sister in our ward, my companion and I got stuck in the parking lot of her complex, unable to exit through the gate without a key.  However, rather than panicking, I did the most obvious thing: I made our relief society president awkwardly scale the 8-foot wrought-iron front gate with me to sweet, sweet freedom.  I know that there’s definitely a stigma about climbing over a very securely closed gate to be closer to people’s houses, but does anyone mind if you’re exiting?? It was slightly precarious and very much hilarious, and somehow I managed to not even get my white pants dirty.  

MORAL OF THE STORY: we will find you, and we will try to visit teach you.  We will not yield!

Also, in a curious turn of events, I’ve had two different grown men offer me free, no-strings-attached rolling pins this week.  Cross my heart this has never happened before.  

1.  In the first instance, a dad from my school who is moving across the country just GAVE me a trunk full of cake pans, cupcake pans, spatulas, whisks, fondant mats, actual fondant, sprinkles, and food coloring.  Like, he just GAVE it all to me for me to use in my jolly cake decorating endeavors. It was the best day.  Like, what is this life. 
2. The second one was from somebody on Tinder.  But I politely declined because there is such recklessness as too many rolling pins, now.  And, well, accepting baking implements from strangers on the internet...

Included in my bevy of crazy generous cake offerings was this turkey pan.  Still trying to decide if I need it.  

I think maybe yes? 

I ended up spending the better part of last Tuesday afternoon toilet-shopping online at work.  Not for me…for actual work.  Again, out of the ordinary.  And it was ridiculous and super annoying and I had to say “toilet” waaaaaaay too many times for my liking.  Let's be honest, it's always just a little awkward.  I called Lowe’s customer support for some toilet help, and after saying it over and over on the phone and feeling increasingly incrementally embarrassed, I gradually adopted a Southern accent so I could start saying “toll-et” and it wouldn’t be as uncomfortable.   

   

 

I’m working on turning over a new leaf and being a better person by actually drafting my own patterns before I start sewing, “working on” being the operative phrase here.  I followed all the rules that would make Mama Dawn proud and I made my pattern and carefully cut it out and pinned it to my fabric and cut out a back of my dress, and then I lowered my pattern neckline and did the same for the front of my dress.  Easy peasy, right? And then I went even further.  I made little patterns for my sleeves and cut those out as well.  Check me out – sailing right along, choosing the right! So I had my two sleeves, the front of my dress and…without realizing it, I’d cut my sleeves right out of the back of my dress.  'Tis my curse.

You know what's also a curse? When there is a RAT stuck in the air vent of your office bathroom and you can SEE ITS TINY LITTLE FEET AND ITS LITTLE TAIL SWISHING THROUGH THE CRACKS IN THE VENT.  (Insert dry heaves here.) My co-worker encouraged me to think about its tiny heart and the fact that it didn't want to cause me harm, first and foremost.  I tried to adopt the mindset of a sort of "urban Cinderella," but no.  A rat is a rat is a rat. In my ceiling in my ceiling in my ceiling.  

Let's close out this completely incoherent and irrelevant recapitulation of stupidness with pictures of me with my friends, having fun and being impetuous, staying out late on weeknights at Diamondbacks baseball games and Train concerts without having to worry about paying the baby-sitter.