Runny

I remembered today why I love running so much. So today's inspiration is crackers. Heh, fooled you! But seriously, crackers. Ritz crackers, to be precise. At this very moment, I'm shoving gorilla sized handfuls of these slabs of salty butter into my drooling mouth. I believe that Ritz crackers can create world peace. They are so good. But you don't have to take my word for it! (I hope the Reading Rainbow theme song just popped into your head. And I hope it never leaves.)

Tell me that boy doesn't love crackers more than life. 

TOO MUCH FUN! I can't handle how fun these can be.

Does anyone even know that these exist? I have never seen these before in my life. Why haven't I  seen these before?!?

The ultimate sign of love and devotion: a cheap, tacky, gold Ritz cracker necklace. 

Back to running.

A few weeks ago I had a really great conversation with a good friend of mine, and I realized some interesting things about myself. The main thing I realized is that I put way too much pressure on myself to be good at and accomplish everything. My expectations and goals are always unrealistic, and when I don't accomplish them (because it's physically impossible), I feel as though I've failed or given up. I have such great dreams and lofty goals. I know I will accomplish them someday, but I always expect to accomplish them in one big step, instead of many little ones over a long period of time.

Yesterday in church one of the speakers gave a talk on the importance of balance in life. I was actually paying attention, and she made some really good points. (I don't remember them right now, nor am I motivated enough to go get my notebook where I wrote them down.) This talk and the conversation I had with my friend acted as a spiritual, personal, mental, emotional, physical (I hope I got all the "als") breakthrough. I'm sure Heavenly Father was thinking, "FINALLY! It's about time you paid attention, you numskull!" (Alright, so I'm paraphrasing.)

AAANNNNYYWAAYY, I've made some new, realistic goals. I'm hoping that I'll actually be able to progress and improve myself, instead of getting frustrated and quitting like I usually do. One of my goals is to be consistent with exercise. (We finally get to running. Sometimes I wax on and on....and off, wax on, wax off....Karate Kid humor. Always a crowd pleaser.)

This past summer I was a slave to running. I ran almost every day, and I have honestly never felt more in shape and in tune with my body. I want that back! I went running today, and it felt so good. It literally becomes a drug for meGAHH!!! MEDICINE! Okay I'm back. Medicine taken. No harm done.

Running gives me confidence, and makes me feel empowered. I feel like it flushes all the crap out of my body and lets me start fresh. I'm able to think clearer, and I forget about everything that is stressing me out. The pain and fatigue I sometimes feel makes me push harder, to feel and experience more. Not that I want more pain, but the pain allows me to really feel and understand my body; to be aware of this miraculous mass that is the human body. I guess this is so important to me because of the many times that my body has almost been laid to waste.

Enough jib-jab. Go eat some Ritz crackers and be inspired.

Llamas and Footprints

Today I put on my llama shirt. And the llamas inspired me. So, today's inspiration is: the llama.

This is the shirt I wore today. And am currently wearing. Best shirt ever? YES.


 

hehehhh....the Dali Llama.

I think the painting technique in this painting is awesome. I mean, look at those brushstrokes! I would have chosen different subject matter, but....llamas deserve to be painted too, I suppose. 

These guys. These guys right here. Awesome.

It snowed the whole time I was at work today, which meant fresh snow on the walk home. Naturally, I had to do clever things with my footprints. So I weaved back and forth on the sidewalk, hopped, walked backwards, made giant strides, pretended to ice skate, etc. Then I made dinosaur tracks. I really hope that someone was tracking me using my footprints. Someone was high while walking home.....Anyway, it took me an hour to get home, as opposed to the 20 minutes it usually takes me. Last night my walk home was longer than usual as well, because it had rained all day, and there were puddles, which I HAD to jump in. And let me just say: I love waterproof boots. Unfortunately, waterproof boots that aren't done up don't like squishy wet mud. Apparently there is quicksand in Logan. And it almost claimed one of my boots for itself. 

The bus. Awkward incarnate.

I spend quite a bit of time on the bus. And I've made a few observations.
1. While waiting at the bus stop, your main objective should be to make everyone around you feel awkward and uncomfortable. Display your own awkwardness by looking down at the ground. Pretend to be supremely interested in that dry patch of grass or that clump of snow. But for heaven's sake, don't look at anyone else. Don't talk. Texting is acceptable, as is checking the time every 30 seconds.
2. When the bus arrives, RUSH ON! Pushing is encouraged. After all, you don't want to get stuck sitting next to the old man who forces you to make conversation.
3. Acceptable bus-riding activities: Reading. (Make sure the book you are reading is completely obscure, and full of philosophical jargon.) Listening to your ipod. This discourages any form of social interaction, should someone be ignorant enough to try to engage in intellectual conversation. (In this instance, you must have your musical device turned up as loud as it can go. Ideally, your music should be of the punk rock genre. Remember: you are too cool to make conversation with anyone.) Another acceptable and popular activity is staring listlessly out the window. Drooling may accompany this activity.
4. Whenever anyone boards the bus, be sure to stare them down like a dingo stares down a child baby. If they look as if they are about to sit down next to you, quickly assume the defensive position. (Backpack placed in front of you as a shield, teeth bared, feet poised to kick. For guaranteed effectiveness, hiss and make unintelligible guttural noises.)    
That about sums it up. Public transportation: awkwardness at its very finest.

Babies everywhere!

I had a dream last night that I had a baby girl. It felt so real. When I woke up, I felt like I was missing something. Then I realized that I was missing the baby I never had. It was only a dream, but it got me thinking: I could be a mother in just a few short years. (Of course, I have to get married first....and getting married implies dating someone....and that's...complicated.)
Thinking of being a mom used to scare me a little. I've seen the impact of wise, loving parents vs. selfish, neglectful parents on their children. It's HUGE! I was scared that I wouldn't be a very good mom, and that I would ruin a generation of great potential. It's a lot of pressure! And what if you try your hardest, but your children still turn out to be the biggest stinkers (literally and figuratively) the world has ever seen? That would make me feel horrible, like a failure.
So I've been thinking about all this today--about being a mom. And I realized that I'm not scared anymore, and there's a few reasons why.
First off, I've got a while before I become a watermelon carrier. As mentioned before, I have to get married first-and as far as I can tell, I'm not engaged. (Thank goodness. My shaved head needs time to grow before I participate in any wedding fototos. Although, now that I think about it, my shaved head wouldn't look too bad shrouded in white. Hmm....)
Second, if my Mom, grandmas, sisters, cousins, and aunts are any indication, one does not have to be perfect to be a good mother. (Although it sure would be nice.) When I was in kindergarten, I would come home from school and my mom would often be taking a nap. She was taking care of my two little brothers, and naptime came just as I got out of school. She's told me a few times that she feels bad for not really playing with me or spending a lot of time with me when I was in kindergarten, but here's what I remember about that time of my life: I remember coming home from school and cuddling up next to my mom on her bed or mine. Sometimes I would sleep, but a lot of times I would just lay there wide awake, content to have time alone with my mom, all snuggled up next to her. With 6 crazy kids in one house, it wasn't very often that I got alone time with mom. I do remember playing checkers with her a few times, and I did watch tv by myself while she slept some days, but I mostly remember those naps with mom, and I loved them. So mom, you weren't perfect-but look how good I turned out!

Growing up as the youngest girl, I can say that my older sisters who have kids of their own right now are definitely not perfect. My oldest sister and I almost killed each other multiple times. But I felt justified for fighting with her: she kept stealing my silky blanket! What kind of a person takes another person's blanky that they rub on their naked bum before baths? (I think if she knew I did that, she might have thought twice before even touching that thing. heheh.) She wasn't a perfect sister, and she isn't a perfect mother, but perfect people are boring. And watching her with her darling son, I'm convinced that she doesn't need to be perfect, because she is such a good mom. I hope that I can be as patient with my children as she is with little Zachie.
My other sister lives here in Logan, so I get to visit her at her house a lot. Sure, her dishes aren't always done, the house has Lia's toys and clothes all over, and maybe she hasn't done all the things she wanted to that day--but she always takes care of the most important things first: her husband, and her sweet baby girl. She's very good at teaching Lia, and it's so fun to watch her play with that little girl. My sister's not a perfect wife or mother, but it's apparent once again that you don't have to be perfect to be a good mom.
Another thing I realized is that if Heavenly Father trusts imperfect men and women to raise His children on this earth, then I should trust myself as well. He knows what He's doing, and He knows what I can do. I was sent here to learn and grow, yes, but I was also sent here to be a mother in Zion. And honestly, I can't wait! I'm so excited to get married, have a house of my own, and raise cute little bunions. (In my brother's terms, a bunion is a small child.) It's still intimidating to think about, but I'm up to the challenge, whenever it may come.
As I was thinking about future chilluns and blog stalking, I ran across some beautiful pictures of a new little baby being born. The pictures seem to highlight the parents more than the baby, which is different, but I really like the emotions portrayed in these pictures. Go on and look at them, and you'll see what I mean. (These pictures are from Nickell Photography. Her blog link is here.)

I think those are beautiful. Yeah, I'm a girl. So what.

Oh, I also wanted to include a picture of my future child. If I have a child that looks like this, my life will be complete. So complete.

.....or this.

It might seem kind of strange that I just wrote a whole post about babies. Well it is. A little bit it is. But it's my brain's fault for sending me a dream about having a baby. Incidentally, I do believe I gave birth on the couch I am currently sitting on. Geeugghhhh....