Puzzling

I have never considered myself an expert puzzler. In public puzzling situations, I tend to shy away from opportunities to puzzle in front of others. I confess that I leave the pieces stuck together if I find them that way in the box. In fact, if I feel a puzzle exceeds my puzzling threshold, I won’t even attempt pry off the lid.
Recently, I have found myself around a lot of puzzlers. On New Year’s Eve, I was even a part of a puzzling competition, go figure. It was then and there I had to decide that I was going to puzzle, and I was going to be dang good at it. My team lost.
Yesterday I walked into my apartment and found myself face to face with scattered pieces of a puzzle. It intimidated me, and I walked away. A few hours later, I ran into it again. I stared, and it remained motionless on the floor. I sat down, and picked up a piece. Two hours later it was nearly complete and I had crossed a puzzling threshold. I discovered that you must dedicate yourself to the puzzle. Puzzling takes patience, strategy, and cooperation. The key is in the sorting, you must sort the edges from the insides, and then the insides into different categories. Communicate fellow puzzlers, and get to know the puzzle and study each part. Each piece successfully placed is a personal victory.
Ok- Maybe I am crazy, but I just finished a puzzle that I never thought I could. And that my friend, is what they call closure.

Frumpville

I have never been a fan of sleepovers. When I was little, I would beg my parents to say no when my friends asked me to grab a pillow and come over. The smell of someone elses house, the loud ticking of the grandfather clock, and the foreign bathroom just never appealed to me.
Growing up, I took my beauty sleep seriously. No matter the occasion, when the clock struck nine I was in the bathroom entertaining my nightly ritual. I am not joking when I say that I spent the next forty-five minutes prepping for bed. I washed my face, hands, and feet; brushed and flossed, and applied several different flavors of creams and moisturizers. I can't explain it, but after five years in the college life, I miss my nighttime therapy.
With that preface, I want to declare that I am a homebody. I like being by myself. Despite my abilities as an extrovert, my flare for adventure, and love of the outdoors, I love to be at home in my bed. I think it is actually a way to compensate for the extrovertness. I don't like to get all dressed up and go mingle with strangers in search of their major. This is my sanctuary. Maybe I am trying to justify the fact that it is Friday, and I am currently in my bed typing this blog, or that I am graduated, living in a college town. I just love being home, doin my thang. I also attribute this wacky fetish for the loss of several boyfriends. When the time card has been punched, I don the sweats and continue my reign as queen of frumpville. Now that is attractive. No one can invade, I can lose myself in my thoughts, a good book, or online shopping, and I am 100% content.

Haircut

I cut and colored my hair almost three weeks ago. Today was the day that everyone decided to notice. I am not sure it was a good thing though- the two most memorable comments were "missionary" and "soccer mom". You decide.

Everything is better when...

I have recently discovered that my position of choice is lying down. I would dare say that everything is better when am at least 70% reclined. I don't think I am lazy, I just really like lying down. I do run into a few minor problems, such as crumbs in the bed and occasionally falling asleep during a movie, but nothing major. I would even go so far as to say lying down is on it's way to being the new sitting. Can't you just imagine your weekly business meetings lying down? As Creed would say, "If that's a crime, lock me up."

National Weirdo Coming-Out Day

I hate Halloween. Love dressing up for various occasions, dances, or costume parties- just hate Halloween and I don't really have one all-encompassing reason.

For starters: WHY do people think it is cool do decorate their yards with icky fake spider webs, waxy figurines of Frankenstein or the Grim Reaper, coffins, body parts, headstones and strobe lights? Not to mention the horrible blow ups of spiders, black cats, witches, pumpkins, and ghosts drifting out of cauldrons. Sure there may be one or two tastefully decorated yards with cornstalks and pumpkins, but I would classify those with a harvest theme; harvest.

Second, I have never really been a fan of the blood, guts, and gore. Why are people fascinated with the sick, twisted things that one can do with the human body? Two words: Gross and Gross.

Third, is the world really so scary that parents must succumb to the annual trunk-or-treat in the church parking lot? Little wonder why our kids are so overweight, at least I had to run from door to door to get my candy (I think one year I actually "bladed" from door to door). And if a bully took your pillowcase-full, that was your own fault for being dumb enough to let him. And let's face it, only about 25% of your spoils were edible anyway. What I want to know is who eats those life-size gummy eyeballs? I guess more important, who buys them?

Fourth, Halloween is just one big excuse for all of the little weirdoes inside people to manifest themselves. The official title of October 31st should be changed to "National Weirdo Coming-Out Day." Sure, I chuckled at a few of the costumes I saw today such as the cowardly lion, a pizza delivery girl, and a smarty pants (literally smarties all over her pants). But these were full-grown adults that needed a little something to spice up the nine to five. Other absurd costumes I witnessed actually roaming the sidewalks of campus. I'm sorry, but I am just creeped out by the full-blown Frankenstein waiting at the bus stop. Another girl, dressed as a bum was standing under a tree with a sign that read, "Will date for food". Funny or pathetic? I'll let you decide. For some, it is a chance to indulge deep desires that may never come true, or at least avoid using any creativity. I can't put it better than a friend who said, "Halloween is a time for boys to dress like girls, and girls to dress like slutty girls."

In summary, Halloween is one day a year that everyone uses as an excuse to be weird. Maybe it is the only day that they feel like they can get away with it. Maybe it is their only escape from the harsh reality of day-to-day life, or a desperate cry for attention. Or maybe they just wish they attended Hogwarts instead of Utah State. Whatever the reason, like most holidays, Halloween has been twisted, poked, stuffed, and commercialized until it is almost no fun anymore. But tomorrow, it will be over, and I can almost smell the turkey. Thanksgiving. Now that is a holiday worth talking about.

Today

Sometimes the best thing I can do is to think of all the things I am grateful for.
So here is what I am thankful for today. Just today.
Hot showers.
A funny text from my little brother.
Bright yellow trees with dark-chocolatey bark that line the old streets in Logan.
The crunch my feet make when I step on the leaves that cover the sidewalk, and the way they blow and swirl on the streets when I drive my car.
Driving with my windows down.
I love the smell in the morning when you go outside and the air is crisp.
A good episode of Friends.
A long talk with a good friend.
A treat break.
Bananas.
While I’m thinking about food- Arby’s curly fries.
My beat-up-but paid-off Camry.
An overly-concerned Dad.
Good roommates.
A healthy body, so I can walk to work.
A cheesy forwarded-chain email from my ten-year-old niece.
Music, this sweet thing I’ve just been introduced to called Internet radio.
My comfy bed.
My crazy boss.
A plane ticket to LA.
Getting off work early.
Utah State.
Sweats.
My cute little mac.
Beautiful mountains covered in the fall colors.
Bed time.

All that- just today.

Puppy Talk

Few things in this world that can make two complete strangers instantly speak to one another. Under the perfect circumstances, the barriers of regular social norms can be broken, and connect people in surprising ways. I have found from personal experience, that one of these things is a brand new puppy. My boss just bought a seven-week-old fur ball, and ever since, I have been dubbed the official caretaker. This means that every three hours I take it out to the grass and I let it sleep on my lap while I type and answer phones. Since the arrival of the new pup, I have noticed phenomenal things. While walking through campus, I have witnessed strangers stop their daily jog to squat down and speak to the dog in whiney baby voices. I wind up spending 45 minutes on a routine potty break because I have to appease three middle-aged women who must tell me about their own dogs when they were puppies. Then they move on to their children, and husbands, their book club and various brands of dog food. I catch men trying to surpress smiles as they catch sight of the little fluff poking out between my fingers. One woman never actually spoke to me, she directed all of her questions to the dog in a high-pitched voice. I’d never found myself in this situation before, I panicked and decided to take on my own dog-persona, quickly answering all of her questions in my own baby voice, as if I was the dog. This went on for at least five minutes. At least I tried to answer the questions honestly. I don’t know what came over me, and I regret it. But what would you have done?