Unimportant Epiphanies

I don't know if this just underlines the fact that I tend to keep one eye on the dull and grey even while staring directly at the silver lining (because really, who actually likes surprises?)  but I had a bit of an epiphany this morning. 

Eventhough I am bored and single......and bored with being single. I am SO FREAKING GLAD that I am not in the midst of a break-up and/or heartbroken right now. I used to think that boredom was the worst feeling in the world. However, in light of my age and a bit of hard earned wisdom, I see how foolish that really was. Boredom isn't that bad.

Theoretically, you can get a lot done when you're bored.

My sock drawer is out of control organized right now. I'd almost go as far as to say it is the nearing the stuff of legends, really.

Dear Jon

My friend Kelly just sent me this...and I think I can now die a happy woman. There really are no words or explanation necessary. Just, thank you. Thank you Kelly. Thank you Jon. Thank you Dear Sweet Jeeebus for such a wonderful looking man. Thank you.......and good night.

I don't think I'm asking for too much, just someone similar to him would be fine. 

Most of my relationships have started with a similar philosopy,

"What the hell?"

And I suppose it is no shock that most of them end this way too.

In other news:

The highlight of my week has been that my squishy and adorable nephew has finally returned from his vacation in Hawaii! Yes, he is 2 months old and has already found it necessary to unwind a bit in the isles of the South Pacific. Pictures will be coming forthwith, but since the poor spinster aunt was not invited on this trip....I am going to have to wrestle some of the photographic evidence away from his parents so that we can blog it up appropriately. You should be excited...he is a pretty cool cat.

I'm telling you. We Kings make good looking babies, but for some reason no one seems to be taking me up on this offer. Go figure.

The Bachelor

Whoops- This is a case of premature blog-ulation.

There is a post about The Bachelor bouncing around in my head...which may or may not ever come to fruition. But for now, all I have is this...

The Bachelor


I just don't get it.

Sometimes I Say Things

Last Valentine's Day I was with Maury, at a particularly cruely timed singles conference,in Las Vegas. We may have ditched the conference and gone to Tiffany & Co to buy ourselves something nice and shiny. Once there, we bumped into Pres Utchdorf and his family. All of the sudden I found myself jabbering to a member of the first presidency of the church about how we were ditching church to waste money on things that we don't need. (His wife actually gave us her blessing on ditching the conference in favor of 'shiny silver presents'...so I feel fine about both the ditching and all purchases made during said adventure.)

The Valentine's day before that, I was celebrating The Music and the Passion of Barry Manilow with a certain Saucy Betty. I was over an hour late (pretty much because I am an idiot) and left her sitting at a restaurant most of that time. Once there, I stammered out idiotic explainations to EVERY-SINGLE-MEMBER of the staff as they passed by and pointed out how glad they were that I hadn't left my comrade hanging on Valentine's Day.

The year before that, I had the dubious honor of speaking about love in sacrament meeting.

This year- a friend from the days of yore asked if I would pontificate about love on her little slice of the internet.

The lesson to be learned from all this?

When it comes to love and Valentine's day, I should probably just keep my mouth shut.

If You Don't Get it.....You Never Will

Twilight Years from Tom on Vimeo.

courtesy of sherpa

Shot Thru The Heart

I stumbled upon this little gem of hilarity today. It was all sunshine and giggles until I got to this post,

“Just be yourself. And if that doesn’t work, be your mother. She wasn’t still single at thirty.”

Then I found myself looking for a band-aid to cover the tiny hole in my heart.

He Should Be That Into Me!

I found this gem, on ye ol' interweb, and have been tossing it around in my head all morning. The idea of telling a story in six words is not a new one. Ernest Hemingway did it with, "For Sale: baby shoes, never worn." Nevertheless, Smith magazine is putting out the second collection of six word stories. This time they are about love, being that time of year and all. I think it's a pretty fun idea. Not because it is about love and heartbreak, inspite of that, more likely. The idea of boiling a story, situation, or event, down to six words kind of makes you think about which pieces are most important. I wonder if the writers of He's Just Not That Into You realized they had coined a phrase perfect for the the six word challenge.

Some of the others that I found particularly good/funny/heartfelt...

He sees the me I don't.
- Anon

I finally threw away his toothbrush.
- Fershleiser

Inevitably, his obituary didn't mention me.
- R. Sue Dodea

If only he wasn't a Republican.
- Holly Fitzpatrick

and finally,

If I get Chlamydia, blame MySpace.
- Hanorah Slocum

I'm not sure if Hanorah's six words make me laugh or make me sad. I think they make me sad. I think some courses in self esteem might do her well.

Feel free to sum up your love life, or your antilove life, in the comments. Try it! It's fun. Promise.

Tick, Tick, Tock

This is the transcript from a conversation with my new doctor yesterday.

Him: So what brings you in today?

Me: Well, I have been really anemic for quite a while, and I just generally feel like crap, pretty sure there's something wrong with me, etc. So here I am. Fix me please.

Him: Are you sexually active?

Me: Actually, I'm wildly Mormon.

Him: Ahhh-that says a lot.

Me: I am aware of that.

Him: (looking back at his chart) Well you are 29. You are aware that the clock is really ticking for you, right?

Me: That's the rumbling on the street.

Him: Isn't marriage and kids like the pinnacle of success in the Mormon world? This doesn't happen very often, does it? What's the problem?

Me: I am a mystery and an enigma.

Him: Well, having talked to a lot of female patients I understand that finding Mr. Wonderful is not exactlly the easiest thing to do in the AV.

Me: I'm unclear. Are you propositioning me,throwing your hat in the ring? That I could understand. Anything else, and I'm confused as to where this is going.

Him: Anyhow- that's my two cents on that. It is what it is, just FYI I guess. Something to think about.

Me: Thank you for this new and exciting information about the ticking time bomb that is my uterus. I will take that under advisement. I have a puppy at home, would you like me to run and get him so that you can kick him too? Cause that somehow seems appropriate at this point in time.

And scene.


True Confession: Some of my more snarky comments (like the one about kicking my puppy) were really just running around in my head and didn't actually get committed to words, but some of them did. Many responses were mixed between radio silence and awkward laughter.

That was honestly, the most bizarre doctors appointment I have ever had. Everything he said was with a smile and super pleasant. He seemed pretty genuine, really concerned, yet insulting and condescending at the same time. That really threw me off.

It wasn't until I got back to my car and sat for a moment that I realized the full weight of the wierdness. Really- in which year of med school do you learn to tell a single mormon woman, flirting with 30, that she needs to start thinking about a family?


So there you have it. Gentlemen, I believe this is a call to arms. For the sake of the Future!

I'll Settle For This

Here is my guarantee to all those worried about my marital status. I will marry the first guy that I find and can convince to do this at our reception.

I'm all in. The bar has been set.

*Since it looks like Johnny is spoken for, the field is wide open, gentlemen.

I Lean Like a Cholo

I think that I was just indirectly propositioned by one of my students. New kid said, "Hey Miss, I think I should introduce you to some of my older hommies. They have shaved heads and are all tatt'd up. I bet you'd be down with the g's."

My big problem with this statement, OLDER homies?!?! What the heck is that supposed to mean?

However, I am a little worried that this kid, in the three days that I have known him, has peered into my personal life with laser-like accuracy. Who's he been talkin' to?

I've been down that road. Uptight Mormon girl + Gangster= Heartache (for me) and frustration (for them). Even if he is a gangster with a heart of gold. That's just how I roll.

Stains that Remain

How is it that some stains never seem to disappear? Scrub and scrub but that damn spot never seems to go away. Out, damn'd spot! out, I say! Disobedient, blasted spots.

For the past little while, I have taken to a plan of denial. "No I don't have feelings for him. I never did. That was just merely helping to pass the time." Obviously, a defence mechanism of sorts. Ignore it and it goes away, right? RIGHT? That plan seems to fall apart when you run into them unexpectedly and the carpet gets pulled out from under you all over again.

Being that I grew up in the family that I did, where Wrestlemania XXIV was as regular an occurrence as the changing of the guards, I can tell you that it feels exactly like being kicked in the stomach. The nausea, lack of breath, sudden cold sweat...exactly the same. All at once you are no longer the clever, intelligent, confident lady that you once prided yourself in being. But now, you are a weak and fragile creature who wants desperately for what she can't have and wonders about what could have been. The aching comes and consumes with a voracity that is hard to explain. And you hate yourself, just a little, for being so easily derailed.

I wonder if this is strictly a female phenomenon or if guys just don't let on that they are affected the same way. If they aren't, lucky b@stards.