Getting bullied by the universe.

Do you ever have those days where everything that comes out of your mouth is terrible? Or, if it's not verbalized, it's still running through your mind.

I mean, really. Everything. Everything seems crappy (even though you know it isn't), the weather is abysmal (aka: cold), and somehow it doesn't get any better every time you open your mouth to speak.Yeah, that was my day yesterday, though I'd partly blame Sunday. And maybe part of Saturday. Culmination: Monday.

I imagine if I were married, my husband either would have kicked me out of the house or he might maybe have just given me the hug I so desperately needed (for no reason known to man or woman) told me he loved me, and made me stay in that hug until I stopped kicking and screaming. Ha. This is only a partial joke. Future husband is so glad he doesn't even know me yet.

Huh. Anyway.

In the real world, even I was exhausted by my mood; and with a million things to do and places to be...I only made it to half of them. Usually on mad days, the gym is my best friend. I leave a whole lot happier after running it all out or having the crap kicked out of me at a class.

But gym had to take a back seat yesterday because I left work later than I have in a long time.

I love leaving work at 5 p.m. sharp. Or earlier, if I can. Even boss-man stood up, said "I've had it" and left his office the other day 15 minutes early. I was jealous. Until I realized I could do the same thing. Peace out, cubicle.

But that was SO not my life yesterday.

Anyway. There's a reason I'll probably need the 3 times going to the temple this week. And no, I have no idea what that reason is. Tonight: ward temple night, Thursday nights are a permanent temple night now, and Saturday with my sister and her husband. This was not planned purposely this way, but I think it's no coincidence. I think someone knew I was going to have issues.

Ugh. :)

When my head finally hit the pillow and I snuggled up to...well, the fleece blanket I'd jumbled into something I could hold on to...relief finally flooded in.

If that ever happens again, I'll be taking drastic self-parenting measures and personal time-out will become the order of the day.

Tell me I'm not the only one who throws grown-up temper-tantrums. But only if you really mean it.

oh. my. gosh.

Okay, really. Ignore the name. Or don't. Whatever. This is my all-time new favorite thing EVER. I just went and got some yesterday and I already need more. No, it's not because I've used it up. I'm just pretty sure I need to start a storage of just IT. Lotion, spray, bodywash, whatever. I want it ALL.

Yeah, that's really all for now. But you'll only think this isn't a big deal if you've never smelled the stuff. Bath and Body Works, you have really outdone yourself this time.

Wow.

In which participation by one named DeeAura should not be found.

I love my FHE group this time around. We have the best activities, and the people actually come and participate and we have more fun in one night than all our other ward activities combined. I'm just saying. We're kind of a big deal.

Now. With that said...

There I was. Supporting an FHE activity I actually possess no physical skill in which to participate.

(Translated, this means the activity was sports related, and may or may not have required hand/eye coordination. The author of this blog posesses no such skills.)

Trooper, right? I thought so. I mean, I knew beforehand what we would be doing, but I went anyway because I like the people.

The only drawback to this whole setup is the well-meaning people in my group who keep inviting me to play said sport. Now, in all fairness, they have no concept of the skills I do not possess. Also, I like the invitations. It's not their fault that the very idea of such a small particle of athletic ability is actually incomprehensible to some of them. I've accepted my position on the ladder of athletic ability, but that's because I've known about it my whole life. :)

And just for the record: just because I'm terrible at sports does not mean I do not enjoy watching them, and I also still participate from time to time. I'm a very good sport without actually being good AT sports. :) I also have a very accurate gage of how competetive those participating in the game are, and that tells me whether or not I should participate.

For instance: Will they laugh good naturedly at the fact that the ball only goes where I intend to throw it about 10% of the time, or will they plot to pummel me from behind so they don't have to deal with me anymore?It's really a very simple system.

I realize I could easily stall them with stories of my athletic success, and then tell them they deserve to have fun without me winning and taking all the fun out of it. :)

I could do that. But I'll have to do that another time because it would be complete fiction and I’d have to make it up first.

So...just for the record, I want to make public the reasons I decided to use this life to develop every skill except those of the athletic persuasion. This way, whenever I encounter a future persuasive essay in human form, I can just refer them to this blog and move on with my life. :)

Ahem.

"Sometimes I say to myself, why is that frisbee getting bigger and bigger? And then it hits me...." I didn't laugh when I first read this "quote" because I'm pretty sure that's actually happened to me before.

I. Hate. Playing. Sports.

No. No, let's rephrase that. I'm pretty sure they hate me. I certainly never started this argument. I know that.

I can't remember the exact day it started...

Maybe it was in grade school when we had to play flag football. Though...all I really remember from that was how fun Mr. Evans was, and how I accidentally scored a touchdown one day. That's right. Accidentally. And...well, I really liked kick ball. And those little square scooters? Those were cool. (though it could be argued square scooters don't equal sports...but I'll just ignore you if you point that out.)

* sigh * Those were the days.

No, I think for me, it all started at church. I was an unsuspecting 14-year-old kid, going to Wednesday night mutual activities like I should. I guess I could have noticed before then the absence of sports in my life, but...why would I? I grew up with the mom who put all emphasis on music, not sports. Sure, my Dad played. And I loved going to his games! But...uh...other than the occasional church basketball game, I never played any.

(Okay, correction. I played AYSO soccer for one season when I was...like...12 or so. But that doesn't count because I'm pretty sure at that point, most of us were still going for the juice boxes. I think two girls on our team actually cared about the fact that there was a game to play, and they sort of scared me. Whatever.)

So there I was. 14 years old. Joint young men/young women's activity at church. Clearly since the boys were involved we had to do something involving either sports or food. This time it was sports. I won't bore you with the gory details, but let's just say the ONE TIME I decided to be brave and get the stupid ball myself instead of allowing one of my far more capable teammates take care of it, said ball got stuck right in between my elbows.

Take seven seconds to picture that. Now, look to my right and you'll see attractive 15-year-old boy in my ward staring, dumbfounded by my blatant inability to play volleyball.

And people wonder why I hate sports.

I'm still not sure why my obedience in going to that weekly activity didn't somehow save me from the damaging teenage agony just described for you.

Opposition in all things, I suppose. Okay, then. Moving on. :)

I managed to avoid sports with a fair amount of skill for the next ten years or so. That is, until I was in Nauvoo. There's this thing about serving any kind of mission that sort of makes you feel like you should participate in every recreational activity allowed. Thus the reason I gave in and played ultimate frisbee almost every morning we played it in Nauvoo...ugggghhhhaaaa.

Ahem. Please note when I say I "played" Ultimate Frisbee, it actually just means I'm running back and forth on the field while my other teammates caught and threw the frisbee. Just trying to be honest here.

Then came the day it was banned because someone got hurt. (It actually wasn't me. I know what you were thinking.) Unfortunately, I felt only a small twinge of regret at the cancellation of aforementioned activity.

...Aaand we're back to the frisbee comment at the beginning.

Since then, I have continued to avoid sports with precision and skill until just this past summer when I gave in yet again for a rousing game of Broom Hockey.

I will never learn.

After getting pummeled by the same giant angry broom hockey dude three different times, I'm pretty sure I started seeing stars. Good night, Nurse. And did giant dude stop trying to kill me after seeing my complete and utter lack of ability? NO! Of course he didn't! But did I sit out? NO WAY. I'd come with two guys. There was no way I could back out without admitting defeat. I hate admitting defeat.

P.S. Despite the stars I saw for the next twenty minutes or so, broom hockey was actually fun.

So, yeah. There you have it. I could go on, but this is already a long post, and I'll bet half of you didn't even make it to the end. But at least now those of you who did actually read this whole thing know I really don't care about getting picked last for dodgeball. :)

And there goes my resolve to write shorter posts while still being funny so people will COMMENT. * sigh * :)

The end. Finally.

A funny thing happened on the way to the forum

So...the other day I went to a performance showcase with a good friend of mine, and as we were walking in to the venue, a woman was talking to the group of us, and the subject of Haiti came up. We were talking about different fundraiser opportunities we'd heard about and donating, etc.

Suddenly, the woman stopped mid-sentence, looked at us quizzically, and asked:

"Who's Haiti?"

We all stopped, looked at her, saw how serious and genuine she was, and burst into fits of laughter. :) It's really a good thing I was almost to my seat, since I'm pretty sure I wouldn't have been able to remain standing for much longer.

What joy. :)

And speaking of Haiti, there are a million ways to help. I won't even try to name every single one I've heard of. But here's one I thought was a little new and different:

http://www.dosomething.org/teensforjeans/home
http://www.dosomething.org/teensforjeans/haiti
The first 100,000 pairs of jeans collected will be sent to support homeless teens in Haiti.


You can also donate money to help those in Haiti and read the official statement from the LDS church HERE. Also, make sure to check the side bar to the right on that webpage for updates on what the relief efforts are doing.

Even if you can't catch the soonest flight to Haiti or donate money, read up:

"Money is not the only need in Haiti. People are frightened, bewildered, and wholly uncertain about their future. In addition to what people can do in helping with food, water, and shelter, there needs to be a calming influence over that troubled nation. We invite our people everywhere to supplicate God for a spirit of calm and peace among the people as urgent aid and reconstruction efforts continue."
-January 2010 statement issued by the First Presidency of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints.


"Who's Haiti?"
...I guess the question wasn't so ridiculous after all.

A few stories from this week. I also want pad thai.

Story #1:
After seeing my beautiful friend Cali and her new beautiful little girl last night...and taking over her life for far too long, I put on my jacket to leave the hospital and get back to my oh, so awesome life.

As I'm leaving, she comments on how much she loves my jacket. I offer it to her. This is how good of friends we are. I don't just give my jackets to anyone, you know.

"Every time I see you, you have a new jacket." she says.

"Hey." I counter. "You get babies, I get jackets."

We laughed, and I left. * sigh * Jackets are equal to babies. ...right?

P.S. She had 66 comments on her last blog post, the one about their newest, pretty little girl. Seriously, people, is that what I have to do to look popular around here????

Story #2:
Okay, I read this on my new favorite blog, The Apron Stage. I tell you what. I laughed so hard when I read this...but only because I think the same thing whenever I see someone using the English language in such an attractive manner.

(I actually started to fall for him based on the way he punctuated his text messages. “This man knows how to use a comma,” I gushed to a friend. Yes, I am a huge nerd.)

Story #3:
By this time next week, I'll already be basking in the Arizona sunshine while you sit in dreary, gray 'ol Utah. Bleck.

Arizona, Arizona, ARIZONA!! * sigh * I can't wait.
Anyway.
Facebook is my constant entertainment. The other day, I read this on a friend's status:

...if you point the space heater towards you, close your eyes and turn on Bob Marley it starts to feel like summer isn't so far away.

Hear, hear! But since I lack a space heater in my office, and Bob Marley is only allowed in my life for about 4 minutes every 6 months, .....Ay. Riz. Zo. Nah.

Also, I get to see THIS while I'm there!
Be very jealous. :) Hey. So I get jackets and roadtrips. * shrug *
Aaand I promise I'll work on havin things of actual importance to say someday soon. :)