To 2013, A Year of Kindness

Something I saw on Pinterest as I was about to head to Barnes and Noble

Life is too short not to love your job

Why I'm Grateful for my Eyesight

I've been spoiled. 

I have.

I've never had glasses or contacts. 

I've woken up every single morning of my life with perfectly clear vision. 

I can read near and far without glasses. 

I didn't realize how awesome this was until last year. 

I wasted 26 years of my life not waking up every single day and thinking: 

I'm thankful for my crystal clear vision. 

But I am. 

And here's why

The other day I had an eye checkup. 

As part of the whole checkup, they dilated my eyes. 

And my vision got blurry. 

I couldn't read texts. 

I couldn't tell if that was or was not the girl I knew across the waiting room. 

But that wasn't the worst or even the scariest part. 

The scariest part was as the medication was easing it's way out of my eyes, I looked like this. 

Now, wouldn't it be distracting to me,
nurse practitioner that I am,
to try and look myself in the eyes without thinking:
"Hey, I have anisocoria." 

Everything at Once

Do you ever feel like you just want to know everything about everything right now, but then you realize that if you actually knew everything about your life, you wouldn't be ready to handle it right now? Yeah, me too. 

Dental Floss

Why do I ever have to run out of dental floss? It's small enough that I'll probably never remember to go to the store for it, but big enough that every night when I remember I'm out of it, I remember that one time the boy told me that if I don't floss every night I'll have to get dentures when I'm older, and all I know is I'm too young to lose my teeth.

At Least I Tried it.

I have this friend who is a pilot. Impressive, right?

But the thing is, he doesn't actually like being a pilot.

He works 100 hour weeks; he makes less money than he used to at his old job. He has a lot of downtime. He wishes he could spend more time with family and friends.

Today I asked him, "So why did you decide to do the pilot thing?" And he said, "I really like flying." He talked about how everyone is always talking about following your dreams and doing what you love for a living. He said, "Even though I don't really love this, I'm glad that I tried it. If I hadn't, I know I'd be spending the rest of my life wondering what it would have been like if I would have been a pilot, and now I know. Now someday when I'm sitting at my desk job, I'll be able to say, 'At least I know I like this better than being a pilot, and at least I tried it.' That's worth a lot."

Amen.

The Thing About Dance Parties

Tonight as I was unpacking, my girl Lindsay asked me if I needed a break.

Me: Maybe, what do you have in mind?
Her: ...ugly sweater party...
Me: Do you have an extra sweater
Her: As a matter of fact, I do.

Any chance to wear a costume.


And so it begins.


We get to the party.
Maybe it was the tan and brown and red sweater. Maybe it was the music.
But they had a catwalk.
And sometimes when you're wearing an awesome sweater
you just have to strut your stuff.
There's just something about the braggadocio, you know?
Sometimes it's fun to be the catwalk lady in the sweater
dancing to Gangnam Style and wearing lipstick.

The Slightly Abridged Drafts (Part 2)

Round two of slightly abridged drafts. For round one, click here.

1.

Jenn once left me a message that started out with:

"Let me tell you what is not helpful."

Over the past month or so, that phrase keeps popping into and out of my mind.

2.

PS. I have a goal in life to avoid passive aggression, so I'd like to acknowledge that the following post is indeed passive aggressive and then apologize for occasionally being hypocritical and writing passive aggressively on my blog. Also for using passive voice, but they are totally different.

3.

For Lent this year, I gave up calling myself fat.

The three letter f-word.

FAT.

I've read a lot about this word as part

of various and sundry activities in my

life of late

Mostly commonly this word surfaces as a part of my

P-R-O-J-E-C-T

The theme that keeps surfacing is the general state of disgust that most American women feel toward their bodies. Most women spend their whole lives wishing they were thinner. When they are in high school they wish they weighed how much they did in middle school, in college they wish it was "high school skinny"

4.

Does anyone else get all sorts of nostalgic listening to The Rocket Summer?

5.

Hey honey, How's it going? What are you doing? Who are you with? Where are you? Are you doing something cool? I wanna know what you're doing and who you're talking to, and I wanna know everything that you're doing, and I don't want you to act like I'm being annoying. I just want you to answer all my questions.

An Exercise in Gratitude

Dear Tall Girl who is Dating a Short Boy,
Thanks for the great chat the other day. I'm secretly hoping you marry this boy but still have tall sons so my daughters can marry them.
We're sisters. With different moms......and dads.
Liz

Dear Datexx Timer,
Thanks for being the best best best thing ever to happen to naptime.
Liz

Dear Boy at Church,
Thanks for saying, in front of everyone, "I need to kiss more girls." It was my 3rd favorite part of today.
Liz

Dear James,
Thanks for letting me eat fish at your house even though theoretically I don't eat fish. You're always good like that.
Liz

You Know You're a Nurse When (Part 10)

A girl says she was talking to a fellow and you start to wonder if she is a med student or resident or something. But then you realize, in this case, fellow is just another word for guy. So, there's that.

Lunchtime Meetings Downtown and Such

Picture this.

I'm running late (hard to imagine, I know). I'm rushing through a courtyard carrying the outfit I need to be wearing for my meeting 5 minutes from now.

I stop a security guard: "I might sound like an idiot, but I can't find the entrance to the ------ building.:

In a Scottish accent: "You don't sound like an idiot. You sound like an American."

He tells me how to get into the building. I pray that there will be an empty elevator. There isn't. Luckily I share with a nice lady.

Me: Do you care if I change my shirt really quickly?
Her: No. That's fine.
Me: Great. Thanks. I also work for ------- so we're probably going to run into each other at some point in the future and you're going to think, 'Oh my gosh, it's the girl who changed in the elevator."

She laughs and gets off the elevator.

I arrive to my meeting at noon.on.the.dot.

Worth it.

1123

Is this real life? 

Moxie

Snagged the photo here. The etymology of the word is kind of awesome.

And in case you didn't know, Ted Williams is sometimes called the greatest hitter that ever lived. 

Moxie: bold vigor or courage; force of determination or character; energy; pep; courage; spirit; know-how; expertise; backbone; guts.1, 2 

I Should Probably Have More of this Word in my Life. Literally and Figuratively. 

I'm Grateful for Jenn with Two ENNS

Jenn with two enns

owner of earrings

supporter of shopping

wearer of heels

teacher of whistling

master of half-face photos

sharer of family

appreciator of all things nephew

leaver of messages

"who I love so much"

Happy Thanksgiving, lady. 

I Love it When I Love it

Once upon a time I dated a boy who was perfect. Seriously and legitimately perfect. But for some reason, I wasn't into it. As Spencer so perfectly put it, the mysterious X-factor just wasn't there. People kept telling me he was a great guy (he was); that marriage is hard and you just have to make it work, but I couldn't shake the feeling that you should actually want to marry the person you marry. Call me crazy.

The night I told him I wasn't sure how I felt about the whole thing, he cried. Legitimately cried and said, "It's just really hard because I know exactly how I feel about you, but you don't know how you feel about me." So we took a break. I really missed him, so we gave it another shot. A four-month shot. Full of ups and downs and ins and outs and really good times and really hard times and me really really wanting to be in love with him.Wanting to feel about him like he did about me.

We spent a perfect weekend at a cabin with my family. When he dropped me off at home, he kissed me, looked me straight in the face and said, "I love it when I love it." In that moment, I agreed, I had loved it so much the entire weekend and I thought, if the future is full of days like this, then I want nothing else in life.

But it didn't last. It culminated in my uncontrollable crying on the grass one night, and we broke up.

And sometimes now on the days when I'm lonely or the days when I'm sad or the days when I think maybe I should just give it up and settle, I remember how much I loved it then. I really want to find a young man I can love it with. Just really, sincerely love it. And call me crazy, but I really want him to feel the same way about me.

If we can find that, then maybe, just maybe, all of the boys in the argyle sweaters who didn't get my number will be worth it.

On Introversion: I'm a Closet Intovert

This is 19 minutes and 5 seconds you won't regret watching. Trust me.
As I get older I feel like I define myself as much more of an introvert than I have in the past.
According to Susan Cain that's not necessarily a bad thing.

Has this happened to anyone else?
Do you feel your level of introversion or extroversion shifting with time?

Sleep

In my defense, I didn't start reading Hemingway on purpose. Okay, actually that was a lie. 

 I bought The Complete Short Stories of Ernest Hemingway on half.com after Cate recommended that I read A Clean, Well-lighted Place. 

 I recently started reading said short stories.

Let's talk plots. 

Story number one: Woman has an affair and then accidentally shoots her husband in the head while hunting in Africa.

Story number two: Paco and his friend are playing matadors. Paco gets stabbed in the femoral artery and bleeds to death. 

Story number three: Man goes hiking, gets a scratch, gets gangrene, dies. 

I'd keep going, but really, I think you get the point. 

According to Hemingway, why did the Chicken cross the Road? 

To Die. In the Rain. Alone.

Since I'm too young to die in the rain alone,

 I went back to my roots: good old fashioned young adult fiction. 

The McGillicuddy Book of Personal Records by Colleen Sydor.

A book about a kid who likes to read quotes by famousmart people. 

Ironically, it listed this quote by Mr. H himself. 

Now, let's just pretend for a second that Hemingway was not the author of 98% of the saddest stories in all of time. Let's say someone with my outlook on life had said that.

Now wouldn't that be funny and brilliant? 

Speaking of funny and brilliant and sleep,

the other day on Pinterest I found a quote that is probably the most descriptive of me and my life.

But seriously, ask my family, my roommates, or anyone who's ever been on a road trip with me. 

My life motto could essentially be expressed as:

Happy weekend. 

Geese

Did you ever wonder why when geese fly in a V, one side is always longer than the other? 

Well, wonder no more. 

Little brother James explained it to me.

The reason one side is always longer is:

There are more geese on that side.

License Plate Wisdom

Why didn't I think of that? 

No one laughs at God when a doctor calls after some routine tests

The first 60 seconds.
It's true. No one does.

Sometimes real life is my favorite part of life.

Once Upon a Time This Series of Texts Actually Happened

Me: Hey were' going to the hot tub at Raintree in 15 minutes if you want to come.

Haha who is this?

Me. Liz. I stalked your number from [......]

I think you have the wrong number.

Me: Oh man. That's awkward

Don't worry about it ;) Unless you're looking for Jordan

Me: Only if Jordan's cute. Lol.*

Well, I'm 21, I have dark blue eyes, brown, hair, I'm 5'11" and have a lean build. Haha.

Me: Well sounds like we're basically twins, but i'm 26 :) oops

Well, good luck getting in touch with whoever it is you were looking for, and have fun hot tubbing!

*Yes, I did say Lol. Nobody's perfect

Love note to Necco Wafers.

Is it the old school 50's design?

The wax paper wrapper?

Perhaps above all else, it is 

the arbitrary order of the

colors in the package.

Without pattern

 without reason

without rhyme.

anti-compulsivity therapy in the best sort of way.

happiness is a clean desktop, among other things

Happy Halloween

Sometimes you dress as April O'Neil from our favorite childhood cartoon, TMNT, 

but then everyone thinks you are Powerline, as in Powerline from A Goofy Movie,

which I guess isn't a bad thing.

And look on the bright side,

if anyone needs a Powerline costume next year, 

they'll know who to call. 

Why Girls Date Jerks and Why It’s Time to Stop That

I’ve been thinking a lot about why girls, and by girls, I mean me (I?), date jerks.

Here’s why.

Remember the kid from the making fun of the bangs episode?

Tell me based on our first interaction:

Jerk or not jerk?

Then tell me based on our second interaction:

Jerk or not jerk?

The answer (in both cases) is clearly: jerk.

He hasn’t said one nice thing to me since he walked in my house that first night

and said,

“Hey, you’re that funny girl from…”

We all know that I’m a sap for people who think I am funny.

 And here’s the thing about jerks.

They always think I am funny

Because I can banter with the best of them.

If they are confident enough to say funny stuff, to poke fun at my weaknesses,

you know they are confident enough to ask me out.

And then because they are funny,

I have to bring my A-game.

I have to be funny.

There’s something exhilarating about having to be on your A-game.

To be ready with a quick comeback, a witty retort, the latest irony.

But then this is what happens.

He is funny.

I am funny.

He says something sarcastic, and I counter.

Pretty soon everyone is laughing, and then I realize…

We haven’t said one sincere thing in our entire conversation.

It’s fun in the worst sense of the word.

I’m being a fraud. And so is he.

And I go home feeling like nothing real happened,

Is this all there is?

And then I realize,

Wait a second.

I am Liz.

This is me.

Sometimes I am the funny girl who emcees stuff and banters with the best of them

But sometimes I am the girl in the long-sleeved shirt and scrub pants reading a book and not wearing make up.

And if all I ever do is banter, they’re missing out on this half of me.

And like it or not, this half of me is pretty cool too.

Even if it’s not as funny.

So…

Without further ado,

I hereby resolve to stop dating jerks.

Funny boys, yes.

Bring on the funny boys.

But only when they are not funny at my expense.

Only when we are laughing

because it is real.

Keep your eye on the ball until it hits your racket

Once upon a time, I read our girl Rebbie's blog post in tribute to her father.
Her dad is easily my favorite anesthesiologist and is definitely and surely awesome.
One of her dad's sayings has stuck in my head since I read it

"Keep your eye on the ball until it hits your racket"


Now, I don't play tennis. You can ask James. One time he tried to teach me.
Basically it looked like me swinging the racket a lot and mostly not hitting the ball.

Sometimes I'm so ready to watch the ball go over the net that I don't wait long enough for it to hit my racket. I don't take the chance to look at it's lime green fuzzies and white stripes. The ball goes flying right past me because I was too busy planning for the future to enjoy the moment.

Isn't that silly?


And yes,

It's a metaphor.

Dramarama

Please don't judge me if this is the story of my life. 

http://xkcd.com/1124/

GUILTY AS CHARGED. 

Some Monday Night Thoughts

Ask me if I bought Taylor's new album today. 

You better believe it's love. Not that we're surprised. 

Also of note, 

The Giants advanced to the World Series when in 

some sort of karmic justice, 

bottom of the ninth, two outs.

Matt Holliday popped out to Marco Scutaro.

Matt had it coming to him after this most questionable play 

in which he violently over-slid into Scutaro.

Did anyone else have Buster Posey flashbacks? 

(That Buster video is fairly graphic and not to ruin 

the end or anything, but he breaks his leg, *gulp*) 

Unlike Buster, Scutaro was unharmed in the incident,

the Giants won the pennant, and Scutaro was named NLCS MVP,

so the karma balances out. Matt loses. In more ways than one.

(But just for the record, Matt is still my boy). 

And also, Giants vs. Tigers? 

I will, of course, be wearing black. 

Go Giants. 

(You're welcome, Dad). 

Awkward Conversations (Part Two)

Unknown Person: This time of the year the weather is perfect, for a BONFIRE! This Thursday night 6:30, meet at...(details omitted as they are irrelevant to the story)
Me: Who is this?!
Unknown Person: That is a pretty demanding text, you wanna take that down a few notches?
Me: Omg. I like totally don't even know who this is...so can you like tell me or something? How's that? Or there's the standard: I got a new phone so I don't know who this is? route. Or, think I dropped my phone in the pool again. Who's this?
Unknown Person: Awful, but to avoid another text like that I'm just going to tell you who this is. [He told me his name, but I won't disclose it here] from the ward.
I had to look him up online but then I realized it was the kid from this story. 
Me: Okay, but in my defense, I never gave you my number and you did make fun of my bangs?
Him: I did not make fun of your bangs, I just pointed out how you were very conscious of them
Me: Oh right, you made fun of me but about my bangs :) totally different.

The end.

And Baby Powder

I literally leave footprints everywhere I go. 

Sometimes when I drive home from work, all the fire hydrants look like this

and it makes a tiny little river. 

F.U.N. 

Can Boys and Girls Really Be Just Friends?

A long time ago I was talking to a friend. He told me he thought it's impossible for guys and girls to be just friends. If a guy and a girl are friends, he claimed, one of them likes the other one at least some of the time and usually they are both toying on and off with the idea of dating. I vehemently disagreed, and just to prove my point, we promptly started dating. (Bless my heart).

I went with a friend to Michelle's wedding reception. (Remember Michelle? From the snowshoeing debacle?). Said friend is charming and fabulous, and of course, after he left, it got me thinking about the whole idea: Can girls and boys be just friends? 

Once upon a time I told myself there were two categories of boys:
1-those I date
2-those I'm friends with
I told myself that the two categories couldn't overlap. I probably decided this shortly after JB broke my teenage (20 year old?) heart. I'm sure my reasoning was very well thought out and excellently articulated, but maybe, it's not as good an idea as I originally thought.

I've spent all this time dating boys who were collectively and/or individually
tall, ambitious, funny, charming, talented, flirtatious, athletic, and completely wrong for me.

Wouldn't it make more sense to date the attractive, fun boys who I already think are fantastic? The ones who it's easy to talk to and banter with? The ones around whom I can be completely, totally, 100% myself?

How is this a bad plan?

And Look Who's Back

Learned this song on the guitar today: 

Open D and everything. 

 

Answer me this: Why do I sometimes go months without playing this thing?

 

 Yeah, I don't know either.

On Shorter Men and My Continued Ambivalence toward Facial Hair.

Okay so I have a crush on a boy. 

It's true, I do.

Here's the thing:

He's 5'9" and he has a beard.

We know the height thing worked for them. 

And the beard thing works for Brian Wilson. 

Lie. The beard thing does not work for him, 

but it does work for this guy.

So I don't know, maybe there's like, a chance or something. 

Awkward Conversations

Met one of my neighbors tonight. Young man. Probably late 20's, early 30's. Tall. Pretty good looking. Presumably single.

Me: (undoubtedly saying something totally charming and witty and funny)
Him: (interrupting) Hey Liz, how do you like your bangs?
Me: I like them, why?
Him: (in front of a small group of people) Because you keep playing with them.
Me: ........
...............
...............

As always, this conversation is adapted for brevity and wit, but is more or less accurate. :)

My Favorite Weekend Moment with the Nephew

This morning I was putting on my makeup as I watched the semi-annual General Conference of my church. My little nephew (about two and a half) came up and started to help me. "You need this?" He'd say as he brushed my bangs with my (covered) razor, my eyelash curler, my eyeliner brush. He even helped me with the powder and the bronzer. When I was sufficiently gussied up, he grabbed his little toy mirror, showed me my face in it and said, "You look so handsome!" 

OCTOBER

How can you not be romantic about baseball? 

Not as good as snarky, moxie, or feckless, but it's still a pretty good word.

To the Girl Who Questioned Me When I Called Something Macabre:
It is a word.
That is all.
Love,
Liz

On Judgment, Humanity, and Mutual Respect.

I.

I recently read a book by a Christian-hating atheist. The gist was basically, he hates Christians because they hate him because he doesn't believe in God.. It's a big, ugly cycle of hatred.

Now I happen to be a very devout Christian. Because of my belief in Jesus Christ, I believe that I should be willing to act like he acted and, even if I fall short, try to treat people with compassion and respect.

But even if I had never heard of Jesus Christ, even if I didn't believe in Him,

shouldn't I be willing to treat people with dignity and respect in my interactions with them based on the fact that they are humans and I am human and we have inherent value because we are alive? 

II. 

As you may know, I recently gave up eating gluten. When I meet someone who is gluten free, our conversation usually goes something like this:

Me: You're gluten free? So am I. That's awesome.  

Other gluten free person: How long have you been gluten free? Are you Celiac?  

Me: For about 2 years, and I don't have Celiac so I can occasionally eat gluten if I want. Are you Celiac? 

Other gluten free person: Yeah, and if I eat gluten, I pretty much die. 

Random person in the room: This may be a really dumb question, but I don't know what gluten is? And what's Celiac? 

Gluten free person: Not a dumb question at all, I didn't even know what gluten was until I stopped eating it. It's in wheat, barley and rye. People with Celiac disease can't eat gluten...

Random person in the room: That must be really hard.

Me: It's not too bad once you get used to shopping. 

Other gluten free person: Yeah, that's true, at first it is really hard, but thank goodness for smart phones so you can look up which foods do and don't have gluten. 

Random person: That's really interesting.

Me & Other gluten free person: Yeah, it's been pretty eye opening. 

No one says to me, "I can't believe you just gave it up 2 years ago" or "I can't believe that you still eat gluten sometimes." And for the most part, the person happily eating gluten doesn't say, "I can't believe that you don't eat gluten." or "Are you judging me for eating gluten?" Nor do I think, "You're such a bad person for eating gluten." "I can't believe you don't even know what gluten is." 

Rather, it's all approached from a place of interest and a place of acceptance and respect for different perspectives. 

Now I realize that this is a little more simple than some situations that we encounter. Nothing moral or ethical is at stake, but still, why can't the rest of life be more like that? 

III.

Maybe you and I disagree about our viewpoints. Maybe you think that my religion is full of crazy people. Maybe you think that God is awful. Maybe you disagree with some of my choices or viewpoints. Maybe I disagree with some of yours. Maybe you've encountered people of my faith who have been hateful. Maybe even I've been hateful in the past. Maybe I've run into hatred from those on your side of the fence. Maybe even from you. 

Maybe maybe maybe, just maybe, that's okay. 

I'm sorry.
I forgive you.
Will you forgive me?
Let's approach each other from a viewpoint of mutual respect and go from there. 

Doesn't that seem like a better way to approach this whole mortality thing? 

I think it's worth a shot. 

Chicago

So I went to Chicago last weekend with my girl Sarah and her sister Naomi. 

Ask me if it was awesome. 

Yes it was. Thank you for asking. 

Here, free of charge, are some photos.

 Elevator in the Willis (formerly Sears) Tower.

 The essential foot shot. It's fine, I'm wearing Chacos. Please don't judge. Sometimes I do that, but only when I travel (or bike long distances in street clothes). 

And cell phones. 

 The bean.

 I seriously underestimated how awesome this thing was.

 What's not to love about taking 450 pictures of yourself in a gigantic mirrored surface called Cloud Gate?

 I can't think of one thing.

 Watched the Cubs come back during a bottom of the ninth two outs game that ended in a walk off single in the bottom of the eleventh. 

 Also, I was cheering for the Cards that day. So that's awesomekward. 

But my boy Matt got a great hit. And also Chris Carpenter pitched, so that's fun. 

Wore my mustard yellow flats into the ground.  

(Boot free since September 15th).

 Surprisingly similar to the top of the Salt Lake LDS Temple, eh?

Also of note, it turns out that Loyola and Loyola Marymount are not the same school. 

Babel

Dear Mumford and Sons,
Thanks for releasing your album on a day when I have to do a lot of commuting. It's gonna be love.
Liz

My Love Affair with Chicago

The trip can basically be summarized as: 

1) I finally succeeded at traveling light.

(you can see my previous thoughts on traveling light here and here) 

That's right. Backpack and purse. The end.  

 2) I love the bean

More to come. 

Songs that Make Me Cry

Wow.Wow.Wow.
I had so many things I wanted to write about today:
guilt, judgement, mortality, voice, reading in the airport and Chicago,
but then this video came along and I can't seem to write about anything else.
This is a really (insert an adjective for something that is so sad you can't even stand it, but somehow turns itself into something mildly hopeful) story.
I've had the song on repeat in the background all day.
Makes me cry in the most horrible, heartbreaking way.
Buy it here on iTunes. And really, well done Taylor.

You Know You're a Nurse When (Part 9)

You try to type "carpool" and your phone corrects it to "carpal," as in carpal tunnel syndrome.

I listened to an hour of live Ben Harper music on YouTube, and then I wrote this post.

I'm not as scared of dying as I am of growing old.

-Ben Harper

The other day I was thinking about growing old. And how it is just plain old scary. (pun). In my line of work, I talk to a lot of people who are 80 and older. I can't tell you how many times a patient has looked me straight in the face and said in utter seriousness, "Don't get old." My response lately has been, "Well, you know the only alternative to getting old is dying young." 

And they almost always say something to the effect of 

"it's worth living to grow old." 

I've always said that I wouldn't want to live to be in my 90s, but I've learned something from my patients: age isn't what matters. How you feel matters. The other day a 90 some-odd year old told me I had to get him better because "I have to live to be 100." If I have to get old, I want to feel as good as he does. 

Is there an App for that?

Apparently I spent all day on Wednesday wearing these earrings.

Yep. They don't match. I realized it at 10 pm. Whoops.



A Man After My Own Heart

I called the manager at my hair salon today. (Long story...). He told me his name.

Me: You're the tall one, right?
Him:  Um, the tall, good-looking one.

Sound familiar? If anyone forgets to label me as good-looking, I say exactly the same thing. :)

Why My Life is Awesome

I'm sitting in my office eating York peppermint patties, listening to Never Ever Getting Back Together by Taylor Swift (on repeat, of course) wearing a floor length black maxi skirt that I sewed with my own two hands (well, and a machine). What's not to love about any of that?

Guilty Pleasure Music

Please don't hate me because I absolutely love this song.

Dummy glasses + red lipstick? Yes please. 

Extra Long Skinny Jeans

Dear American Eagle Online,
Thanks for having that 30% off/free shipping sale on your jeans and for having extra-longs in stock. As we know, purchasing extra long jeans is sort of like selling your soul, but harder. I'm looking forward to the 11 (yes, eleven) pairs of jeans being shipped my way. And I guess I'll see your counterpart, the *actual store,* sometime next week with about 8 pairs of jeans to return once I decide which ones I actually like. :)
Love,
Your Long-Legged Friend, Liz

Well, This Made Me Cry

Good job at life, Mr. Rogers. 

Stop Sign on 7th North in Provo

The Upside of Insomnia

This song was playing in my headphones this morning as the sun came up over the mountains and I pedaled my way down Van Winkle. 

"We get up early just to start cranking the generator

Our limbs have been asleep we need to get the blood back in 'em"

It.was.perfect. The perfect lyrics, the perfect song, the perfect pace, the perfect morning.

Syringe Art, Rorschach, and Tragedy

At the stake carnival last night, I saw a sign that said, "Syringe Art." I figured that even though my artistic abilities are not that awesome, I'm pretty good with a syringe, so why not give it a shot? (pun! and that wasn't even on purpose if you can believe it).

So what exactly is syringe art? Basically you put a little paint in a syringe and then shoot it at a piece of paper. This is what mine looked like.  

But then I thought it would be infinitely fun if I folded it in half to make it symmetrical. And we ended up with this beautiful amateur Rorschach test* in full color. I was really pleased with how it turned out.

(The talented Ms Fotohok took that photo, props to her)

I wish I had taken a picture before I put it in my bag to take it home because by the time I got home, it was stuck together and the paper tore when I unfolded it. But just trust me, in it's prime, it was gorgeous. 

According to the girl in charge, a Child Life student at the U, they do this with the kids in the hospital to make the kids feel more comfortable with hospital equipment. 

Do they take volunteers? Where do I sign up? 

*I'm sure that's copyrighted. This is in no way meant to represent a Rorschach test. Any resemblance to Rorschach test was unintentional and purely coincidental etc...

Cataract

The other day my boy Jeff and I were outside looking at my car. I pointed out my headlights.

Jeff said, "Cataract?"

Hahahahaha.

Point, Jeff. 

Fiction vs Non Fiction

 So here's the thing about non fiction. I've been reading this book, The Happiness Project by Gretchen Rubin for about 3 months now. A book that I like medium well. As of yesterday, I was on this page. 

Yesterday morning, I got an email from the Provo Library telling me that Insurgent, the second book in the Divergent series by Veronica Roth was in. I drove down there, Picked it up, and as of last night, I was on this page. 

There's just something to be said for getting lost is a fictional novel, especially one of the young adult dystopian fiction variety. That is all. 

You Know You Live With A Nurse When

You Know You Live With A Nurse When:

You find needles, syringes, alcohol wipes, saline flushes and the like all over the house.

But be warned, these things could also mean you live with a heroin addict.

In my case, my new roommate is an ICU nurse. She also happens to be five ten. Which, in the immortal words of Mr. Kyle Snell, is the perfect height.

I'm pleased to inform you she is also heroin free, which is a big plus.

That was close.

To the Cyclist I almost killed by opening my door without looking the other week,
I, of all people, should know better, and I'm sincerely sorry. Thanks for getting out of the way fast enough that I don't have to spend the rest of my life racked with the guilt. I'll keep my eye out better from here on out. Safe and happy cranking to you.
Love, A fellow cycling enthusiast.

Thank you, Snowbird

See that whole entire gluten free lunch? 

Even a cookie. 

Point, Snowbird. 

Me and the Babe

Thanks to the beautiful and talented Kristin for this shot. 

Girl Shoes, Saltwater Sandals, etc...

Friday night at the Rooftop Concert, my friend Garrett and I saw an androgynous little girl boy. He had adorable curly hair and was wearing a jumper with saltwater sandals. Garrett said it was a boy because the jumper wasn't cute enough for a girl. I said it was a girl because of the girly shoes he was wearing. 

Me: They're totally girl shoes!

Garrett: I had those shoes when I was little.

(awkward pause)

Me: Oh.

After much deliberation, it was decided that he was indeed a boy.

At which point, this happened:

 Do you see that? This girl walked by wearing the exact same sandals. 

Coincidence? I think not.