Dirty Little Secrets

Tomorrow (well, today actually... I have insomnia these days) our proud town has its yearly celebration of Chubbuck Days! (cue the handful of confetti and tell the toilet papered trucks to head down the road to start the parade. Local cheerleaders? check.  Classic Car Club? check. City Council in the back of a hay truck? check. Pooper Scoopers? check. Salt Water taffy to throw to the adoring crowd? check. What's this? Bit o Honey? Get out of the parade!)

Every time Chubbuck Days rolls around, I can't help but feel the tinglings of guilt for a sin committed long ago.  And now, I confess to the universe.  To my wide (ahem) array of readers who so anxiously sit on the edge of their seats wondering, "What will that comic and philosophical genius come up with next?"

Ok... Maybe not.

Anyway, I always feel a little guilty.  I had a partner in crime (don't worry Wendy, your secret's safe with me still. I'll take it to the grave). 

For the life of me I can not remember what lead up to these events, or how two twelve year old girls were left in charge of such an important part of the cities celebration, but a friend (see Wendy, wink wink. It's all good) and I were put in charge of the raffle.  If I recall correctly, we were at the main celebration for a good part of the day.  Every hour or so we would draw a name out of the bucket to award some donated prize to the lucky winner.  We tried really hard to ration it out so the prizes would last all day. Apparently we were too good at that because by the end of the day there were still several prizes remaining.  We gathered them up and took them to my friend's house (you know, the one I'm not mentioning) and were told to just draw names and put them with the prizes and the winners would receive them later.

Our names were in the bucket several times... or maybe just once each. I can't remember.  But there were some prizes that we both hoped we'd be lucky enough to win.  it was a miracle when my name was drawn for the little glass and brass shadowbox house (which yes, I still have) that I wanted so badly.  I can't remember what Wen... I mean, my friend won.  But then there was a little denim purse that we both wanted.  It's a shame we both couldn't win it... but wasn't it odd that the ticket we pulled out had BOTH our names on it? Wow.  We decided to share the denim purse... but I think I ended up with it. I wouldn't be surprised if it too was still in the depths of my childhood boxes.  But can you imagine the LUCK? that we were able to win exactly the prizes that we had our eyes on?

Ummm... ok, It was actually harder for me to admit that than I thought it would be.  I'm not sure if it was therapeutic or not.  Maybe I should keep going and come totally clean... but... I think the story of the Rose Park, Utah 4th of July celebration and the stuffed unicorn dolls can wait for another blog.

Do Birds Gamble?

Today I had the funniest thing happen (and by funniest I mean a little funny and a whole lotta gross).  I was driving down the road, minding my own business admiring the beauty of the half sunny half drizzly day.  I decided to make my thoughts known and said, "it's such a beautiful d..." my sentence got cut off because right then, I ended up with a hand full of bird kaka (or in Jona's immortal words, "AGH! I just got shat upon!").

My first reaction was to be utterly grossed out.  Then I laughed till I nearly ran off the road.  Then I started to be extraordinarily impressed with the bird.  I was moving in a car, moving my hand around, and still the bird managed to aim exactly and hit the top third of my middle finger. (the bird hit me on the bird...HAHAHAHA)

I hope that bird flew to the gas station and bought a lottery ticket- because that was a shot in a zillion and it was obviously lucky today.

Dream Companions

I've been in Idaho a week. One solid week.  I wish I had exciting anecdotes to share, but mostly it's been spent with family and little else. I'm not ready to come out of my solitude just yet.  Church is going to take some getting used to, but that's all me.  They were very friendly and quite happy when I said I would be living here for a while and that I was just not here for a quick visit (they're used to those).  But it was my pride that couldn't take it when people asked what had made me move home, "Are you finally sick of that Denver?"

No... trust me. I would rather be there, but I am here and that's that.  How do I explain... Yeah, I moved home because I'm a loser single childless and now unemployed college graduate that couldn't support herself...?

That is not the purpose of this post, however.  Each night since I've been home I have had the craziest dreams. Not all of them do I remember, and the ones I do remember I wish I hadn't.  Last night there was something involving chocolate salsa and trying to prove that I knew how to cook. I think I need to lay off the food network challenge shows. 

Sitting in my room I've been trying to think of a cause of these odd dreams.  I think I have narrowed it down to one thing.  It's the creepy and- to be frank- downright ugly wallpaper in this room.

I think it's enough to give anyone nightmares. *shudder*

Creepy little corn-husk dolls with scythes and hoes.  Looking all, "Oh, I'm just bringing in the sheaves, don't mind me..." Then WHAM! They jump off the wall and kill you in your sleep.

Movin' On

Allrighty.  I have left a lot of people in confusion over the last few weeks. Let me explain myself.

I made a deal with myself (and a few other people) that if I did not have a job by the end of June, that I would move home in July.  I tried and tried to find something- anything.  I mean, I applied at places that I would never have applied had I not been so desperate.  No matter though, because it seems no one wanted me as an employee; over-qualified or not. So I made plans to move back to Idaho.  I gave my notice to my landlord, and started to mentally prepare myself for a move I absolutely I didn't want to make.

Did I start packing and actually preparing to leave? No. Why?  Because I secretly hoped that a last minute miracle would come my way.  I was in denial.  I admit it.  Time ticked ever onward.  My little brother and his family came to visit me.  They wanted to come while they still had a free place to stay. 

My parents had purchased their tickets and the date for my move was set. The plan was for them to fly out and to rent a truck and drive home. After my brother's visit, I faced the inevitability of moving home and slowly (any by slowly I mean packing one box a day). I hate packing. I loath packing.  Packing is an abomination in my eyes.  I bragged to people whenever I completed another box.

Thursday night before I was to leave, my friend, Julie, called me with a job opportunity.  Her boss was desperate for an assistant so she wanted my resume to forward on to him.  I got it to her that night, he called me the next day and we set up an appointment for Monday.  This threw a minor wrinkle in the plans because I had two farewell parties being held in my honor...  I would have felt pretty stupid having the parties and then not actually leaving.  But the parties were fun either way.

I was having a difficult time deciding what to do.  Move home and save money? Or stay in Colorado and enjoy my independence and a new, good paying job?  I set some requirements for the job and decided that if it did not meet them that I would not accept it if offered.  The interview was Monday morning and my parents flew in shortly after.  I dislike interviewing. I always come off an incompetent moron.  No wonder I can't find a job. 

Anyway, the job did not meet my requirements so after a lot of thought, prayed and other ingredients that go into making giant life changing decisions, I decided that moving to Idaho, though not my ideal, would be the best choice.  I threw myself (and my parents) into the remaining packing.  We got it all done, and the truck loaded- with the help of my beloved Dianne.  I am out of the house and nearing the road- staying in a hotel with my parents before we hit the road tomorrow morning.

It turns out that my stress and indecision was unnecessary.  I got a phone call back from the interviewer and they decided to go a different direction (work place code for, "You suck and we don't want to burden ourselves with your obvious lack of know-how.")

So, Westward Ho, the wagons! I'll be in Eye-dee-hoe for an undetermined amount of time- but hopefully not an overly extended stay.  Oh dear Colorado, how I will miss thee.

My Greatest Frienemy

Lately, I have been spending a lot of time with this one girl I know.  We've known each other all our lives (we even have the same birthday), yet we are still learning about each other.  We have almost everything in common.  We like the same things, She loves Italian food and chocolate- As. Do. I.  She also dislikes all the same things I do.  We are interested in the same things and can have conversations that go on for hours.  We read books together and discuss them.  We are the best book club and we are very, Very exclusive.  Sometimes when I don't know how to explain what I mean, She gets it and I don't have to try to find the right words.  It's very convenient.

Once in a while though, we fight- and she can be meeeeean.  But so can I.  She calls me "fat" and "ugly" but I tell her that she's "stupid" and "disgusting." A lot of times she's the one who is there when I'm trying to decide, "should I eat that whole pie?"  "Sure," she replies, "it doesn't matter what you look like, no one will ever want you anyway, so go crazy." Usually, I listen.

See? Sometimes she's not nice.  But really, in general, we get along most of the time.  There are times when I look at her I think, "good heavens, she is so pretty." But no one sees her the same way I see her,  People (other girls- never guys) say they do, but I don't buy it.  But she has her bad days too and she has the kind of face that should break a mirror... ghastly, honestly.

There are few wrinkles that we're still trying to work out.  She likes to be spontaneous, and I am a planner.  She likes to spend, spend, spend and I try to be more frugal.  She likes to sit and do nothing while I would rather get up and go for a walk.  She's more stubborn that I am though, so she usually wins.

My Frienemy is my biggest critic- and the one that I listen to the most.  I can get compliments from 20 different people- but if she says one bad thing- I believe her over all the others.  I shouldn't.  But I do.

She's not the same person she was a few years ago.  We've sat and talked together about what it would be like to be married and have kids and all the things that we always said we wanted.  But she's glad... and I guess I am too... that it never happened.  We have seen and done so much that we wouldn't have been able to do if we were tied down to a family.  We spend a lot of time, probably too much, talking about lost "loves" from the past.  Neither of us has ever been in love, but for some reason we like to pick at old wounds and make each other miserable playing the "what if" game.  We have a distinctly different taste in men.  She likes bad boys, I like the "Peter Priesthood" type.

Neither of us know what to do with our future.  But, we'll stick by each other and hopefully one of us will come out on top and drag the other up with her.

I like spending time with her. It's a good thing too because we have been much thrown together in the last couple of weeks and probably will be for the forseeable future.  Tonight? We're going to the opera.