I think if a member of the Hufflepuff house were to reach into the sorting hat in a moment of need, they would withdraw their hands in slight surprise, having just reached in to find my hedgehog coming to their rescue. They would have, of course, roused her from a nap, and so she would naturally be a little miffed, and thus, a little spikey. But a true Hufflepuff, seeing the good in everyone, even a perturbed hedgehog, would reach back in to find my hedgehog quite forgiving, her quills now laid flat. And in that moment of need, my Hufflepuff would offer the greatest support in any Hufflepuff’s moment of need. She would give a good snuggle, and all trouble would vanish.
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Glue Sticks, Literature, and the Project at the Center.
Posted onI’m not a “shoe-in” kind of person. Back in high school, getting a lead role in a play was always a pleasant and shocking surprise, and even though I “talked the talk” so to speak, I was always terrified I wouldn’t get elected into student body government. I didn’t think I was a shoe-in for BYU; I worked my butt off in high school to get there, and any talk of “I don’t want to go to BYU anyways,” was a preemptive defense mechanism preparing me for the eventuality of not getting in. Even the job at Timpview was an ambiguous uncertainty until I actually signed my employment contract and signed up for benefits. It’s strange, but “glass half empty” outlooks leave me room for the delightful surprise of success. It works for me.
I Suppose I’d Better… Catch ‘Em All…
Posted onAs I learn them, I like to share The Secrets to Marriage that accumulate in my marriage arsenal. Most recently I have discovered that whenever Spouse A comes up with a crazy idea, Spouse B’s job is to enthusiastically validate said “crazy idea” while secretly hoping that Spouse A will forget about it in time.
Jeremy does it to me too. Several weeks ago I told him I wanted to be an animal trainer for the movies. I know he was secretly hoping I’d forget that dream and move on. Either that, or he came up with a different solution for me to train “animals,” and his newest crazy idea has all been part of a plot to secretly and inadvertantly make my dreams come true.
Jeremy’s latest dream?
When Elly Strikes
Posted onWhen I got married, I got a new cellphone plan, and with it a new number. I did the customary thing: transferred my contacts, sent out a mass text with my new number, and I think I even posted some sort of Facebook announcement about it as well. As with all cellular changes, there were a few stragglers that didn’t get the memo.
The Power of Nice
Posted onI used to think that “niceness” was a soft attribute. I was heartily convinced that the way to be in life was like Christina Yang–calloused, driven, exceptional and seldom nice. Nice was a boring quality. Nice felt like Comic Sans and an exclamation point. Nice was a pastel butterfly on top of a crib. Nice meant weak.
That’s not to say I was always mean. I liked to call myself “driven” instead. I was capable of being nice, but usually and especially in high school, nice was not inherent; nice served a purpose.
The Curse of My Life.
Posted on
I don’t have vision problems. I have 20/20. Currently, this is the curse of my life.
I want glasses. I want hipster glasses. I’ve even found a few in stores, but the makers are always presumptuous enough to put some sort of magnification in the little lenses to ensure that glasses can only go to elitists with real vision problems.
And the Claustrophobia Sets In
Posted on…We all knew this would happen.
Last night, and for the past several nights, I’ve felt a particular sense of ennui that’s common at the tail-end of summer. I’ve done all the fun things for three months, and because I’ve done so much of them, they don’t seem like fun anymore. I’m itching to be in charge of something again. I’m dying for some responsibility.
How To Help in this Time of Need
Posted onHey blog friends. Sorry for the repeat blog post. The publish button looks more pushable than the preview button sometimes. This one should work. I try to be selective about which causes I jump onto, but this is one that I think we can all get behind.
The Time I Saw Shia LaBeouf (Last Night)
Posted onHe will henceforth be referred to as Shia. Not because we’re on first name basis already, but because spelling Shia’s last name is a chore.
Anyways, after building my Pinterest scorecard to chart all my cooking goodness, I decided I’d had it with cooking for the… decade… so Jeremy agreed to meet me at CPK where we had a giftcard. I walked there, because public transportation is expensive, and as I was crossing the crosswalk, I encountered a bearded, long-haired, excessively grungy Shia. He clearly was doing his darndest not to be noticed… But I consider myself a celebrity expert (tried and failed to spell efficianado. Any help? I’ve never read it, only heard it), so there was no way he could get past me so cavalierly.
Dream Duels With Voldemort
Posted onUsually, my reoccurring nightmares involve some tangible, albeit unlikely, stress of mine: my teeth crumble in my mouth, I get pregnant, I forget my Santa outfit as I am about to speak at graduation… you know, things that could actually happen. And I wake up with my shoulders taut, and I’m breathing heavy.