So what's left?

Sometimes I think humans have been around for so long that we've invented all there is to invent. Cars, planes, peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, the Internets (thanks, Al)... The more I think about it, the more evidence I discover. Case in point: kissables. You know, those mini Hershey kisses with a colorful candy coating? Call me crazy, but these seem to me to be shockingly similar to M&Ms. How is it that no one caught that?

Or how about those Snuggies? Don't we have something like that lying around already? Oh, yeah. Blankets.

And don't even get me started on books. I can't tell you the number of times I've picked up a book, gotten a third of the way through, and realized I've already read it. Except it had a different title. And a different author. I've read at least three books this year in which the hero is a teenage boy with unruly black hair that won't lay flat despite his best efforts. Sound familiar? I'm telling you, original thought is a thing of the past. Heck, if you're Dan Brown, you don't even need to steal other people's ideas. Just reuse your own - in three successive books. (Don't get me wrong, they're fun to read. Just don't expect anything new.)

All joking aside, I think that some good has come of all this brainpower. Indoor plumbing, Google, microwave popcorn, medical breakthroughs - all good. But why hasn't someone done something really useful and whipped me up the perfect pair of jeans? Get with the program, people. Get with the program.

P.S. No offense intended to Kristina P., who will probably be buried in her Snuggie, or to Al Gore, who never actually claimed to have invented the Internet. Darn those Republicans.

P.P.S. Sorry about my blogging apathy as of late. I'm in the throes of an identity crisis. So cliche, I know, but true nonetheless.

Little surprises

I'm sure that there are many, many people in the world who like to crawl out of bed in the morning and crank up some tunes to get their day started. And of those people, there are probably some who choose to crank up John Mellencamp. And dance around like maniacs. And sing the wrong words off-key.

I just never thought my son would be one of them.

I am Introvert, hear me roar!

"It's good for the soul when there's not a soul in sight." ~Kenny Chesney~

Friends, I know this might come as a shock to you, but I'm an introvert. And not just sort of. An online Jung Typology test told me that on the introvert-extrovert scale, my introvertedness is about 70%. And we all know how reliable those online tests are. But really, I didn't need some expert to tell me that I'm "more reserved, less outgoing... [and] marked by a richer inner world" than 60-75% of the population. I already had a hunch.

The fact is, I like to be around people; I enjoy attending parties and being with friends and meeting new people. I just like hanging out with me more. And I'm not sure why that makes some people uneasy. Last week, I mentioned to a group of young women in our ward that I had spent a Saturday in Anchorage shopping, having lunch, and catching a movie. "By yourself?" one of the girls asked, horrified, staring at me as though she'd just seen a leper. Um, yeah, by myself. Myself rocks. And if myself wants to see a movie and gorge at the local Mongolian Barbecue, who am I to argue?

So what if I don't like crowds? They make me nervous. Who cares if socializing for long periods of time drains me of energy more effectively than a triathlon? (Not that I would know, having never run a triathlon. Or more than two miles in a row, come to think of it. Yeah, so I'm not a runner. Sue me. We're not talking about that right now anyway. Geez.) And when I want to host an event, is it really a big deal if I have to decide to do it less than 12 hours prior to the actual event or I'll find a way to cancel, because thinking about all those people coming over kicks my stress gene into high gear?

I used to think all of these things somehow pointed to flaws in my character, that maybe I wasn't as important as the numerous extroverts roaming the planet. So I guess I do understand why someone might think going to a movie solo is a little strange. But I don't think so. It's just me. And me is good.

P.S. Just out of curiosity, even if I didn't actually get on the stupid thing, assembling an elliptical counts as aerobic exercise, right? (And by I, I mean my husband, who worked so hard I had time to come in and blog. I love you, honey!)

The naughty list

Dear Santa Claus,

I realize it's only October, but it's gonna take me at least two months to atone for yesterday's sins, so I thought I'd get a jump start on things.

Listen, Big Guy, there's only so many times a mom can wipe bathwater off of the ceiling before something drastic needs to be done. I figured I could yell and scream and be angry for an hour, or I could come up with a consequence that might make an impact. I just failed to take into account how cold well water in Alaska could be. You and the rest of the state probably heard some blood-curdling screams last night around six thirty. Yeah, that was Riley. My bad.

And yes, St. Nick, it's true. I'm banning my daughter from her favorite blanket. I can't handle the tantrums anymore. The ones that come if someone else touches her blanket. Or looks at her blanket. Or breathes near her blanket. I've had enough. That ugly orange blanket is history, and I refuse to feel guilty about it.

Anyway, I just wanted to tell you that I'll be trying harder in the future to be a patient, loving mom.

Until next time,

Becky