You're a Pickle

Good ol' Foot in Mouth Disease.

It happens.

In fact, it happens to the best of us.

I have this bad habit. For some reason, (I'll blame Mindilicious because let's be honest- someone has to take the blame and I know she'll still love me) I have this need to always have the last word.

And I don't necessarily mean when fighting. Because believe it or not I'm actually a very peaceful person and fighting isn't really in my 'na' to the 'ture'. Ask the kids I work with. I try to show them my angry face on occasion when they make questionable comments or think it's a good idea to light Germ-X on fire in the boys bathroom. But even then I usually end up breaking a smile. On the rare occasion that I put my angry pants on, it's usually as a result of something related to Les Miles/LSU or the Bachelor.

In any case, I'm a lover.

But that's not the point of this. I like to get the last word. But not when fighting because I don't fight.

Example 1: A funny joke is told by the cool person sitting next to me. I like to add onto the end to add an extra punch of funny. Generally the punch hits around the mid section. Best to be prepared.

Example 2: An interesting fact is passed on by someone smarter than me. I like to add a little story to the fact to give it some life. 'Oh coconuts grow on really tall trees do they? What great information! Did you know I saw a man on the Island of Zanzibar climb a coconut tree with only a rope?! It was like swaying in the breeze and this crazy man went all monkey on that thousand foot tree! He even sang like an authentic African song as he was climbing!' See what I mean... story added to fact makes for a meaningful 2 minutes.

Example 3: A sports statistic is presented while watching a sporting event I don't actually care about. My addition might include some bit of information I overheard while watching ESPN. Which as long as we're being honest, is like the best way to hook a man. Throw some sports knowledge at him, name drop a few key sporting personalities, and you're in!

I think you get the point.

One time I was talking to this guy. I might have had a bit of a crush on the fella. And by bit of a crush I mean that I was totally diggin' his muffins. So here's the scene: I'm sitting in my car talking- because apparently when I talk in the car, I'm so much more charming- and we're chatting away about nothing in particular. I probably was wow-ing him with my sports knowledge, or telling him about monkey men in Africa climbing trees, or maybe even describing in detail all of my tattoos. Whatever I was woo-ing him with, I'm confident it was exhilarating.

The conversation was good. Flirty. Informative. Fun. But as we all know- you can't actually like tell the guy you like that you like him. You have to play it cool. Act all 'whatever I'm super chill and not pushy and like totally the girl you secretly want to take home to mom even though you don't realize it yet'. When all of a sudden he makes a comment that involves the word 'HOT'. It was probably something along the lines of, 'This coffee I just made is hot." But in a fit of 'get the last word awesomeness' I return the comment with: "YOU'RE HOT!"

And then this came fumbling out of my mouth because you CAN'T admit you actually think he's hot! That's like showing your WILD card in a good game of UNO. That shiz don't fly!

Um. Wait. No!

Ididn'tmeanthatlikeialwayssaythingsafterotherpeopletoaddontowhattheysay. (translation: I didn't mean that. Like I always say things after other people to add onto what they say)

Then I try to explain further: "I didn't mean to say you're hot. It just kinda came out. I would have said you're a pickle if you had made a comment about pickles."

His reply: "So you're saying that I'm not attractive and I'm a pickle?"

Me: "No! You are attractive. But I didn't mean to say that. And you're not a pickle I just would have said you were if you said the word pickle."

Him: "But I didn't say pickle and you still called me a pickle. So now I'm an unattractive pickle?"

Me: "I've gotta go. Something just came up. I've got to go wash my hair."

As it turns out calling a man an unattractive pickle is not the fast track way to marital bliss.

He's now engaged. I'm willing to bet she is a little more careful with her words. Or at least her pickles.

Foot. In. Mouth.

Get's me every time.

Halloween: where costume and awesome collide

Halloween has never really been a holiday that trips my trigger. Obviously when I was younger it was a little bit higher on the 'awesome holiday' list- but nowadays I'm pretty fond of my Memorial, Labor, and Martin Luther King Days. Paid holiday- yes please!

I have however over the years had some pretty memorable Halloween Costumes. When Mindilicious wasn't busy saving the world, she could sew a mean costume. I think more than anything, good ol' H to the Ween was more exciting for her. I was like her little dress-up play thing that could be subdued by way of Milky Way or Gobble Stick (bee-tee-dubs, does anyone remember Gobble Sticks? They were delicious. Packaged like something similar to a string cheese. I'm telling you- that was like meat stick cocaine for this girl) while she was measuring and sewing away.

One year I was Pippi Longstocking. I had long hair. We took a cloth headband with a clothes hanger run through it, and braided my hair onto the wire. It was epic. I remember another girl went as the same thing that year. She had these weird braids on the top of her head that just stood straight up into the air. Essentially she had braided horns. True colors perhaps? I think so! I also colored my hair red with this crayon like substance. It smelled like fish. I was self-conscious of it the whole day- trying to blame the smell on someone else.

I was a Spanish Senioretta when I was in 2nd grade. I remember wearing bright, streetwalker-esque red lipstick, black fishnet tights, and HUGE hoop earrings the most. I also remember going to a church. It wasn't my church. And it wasn't any of my friends churches. It was just a randome church. I was with my Nanny. We stopped for a costume contest that was offering a cash prize. We walked in. I stood on a stage. I waved my paper fan for full effect. I Won. And then we walked out. I don't remember ever seeing that money in my pocket or towards my college fund from that one.

And one year I was a princess. Mindilicous whipped up this purple robe/cape thing; complete with spotted white fur and gold trim. I had a crown. And a wand? (Because princess' have wands right?) and I think some sort of poofy dress that completed the costume. One night as Mama H was working away, I decided it was necessary to parade around the house in my cape. When I had done enough royal sauntering around the living room, I decided that as a princess I needed to take a drive. And being that it was October, I was 6, and my pink barbie convertible PowerWheel was fresh out of juice, I had to improvise.

I went straight to business:

:: Drawing of a steering wheel taped to the wall. Check.

:: Barbie riding shotgun. Check.

:: Stuffed animals in the back seats to act as my people (I was their princess after all, and princesses always have lots of friends- just look at Kate.) Check.

:: Mom's keys that I found in her purse. Check

:: Four holes in the wall placed just to the right of my make-shift steering wheel to put Mom's keys in. Double Check.

Royal party on the movie- time to get the party started in the land of Harkins!

...... Or blow out the power in the house as it turned out.

I literally shocked the hell out of myself.

Burnt a mark into my Mom's car key.

And blew out the power.

Smooth move, Princess!

From then on, when the Princess needed transportation, she stuck to the good ol' horse and carriage. A much royaler and classy mode of transportation, I might add. And Mindilicious started putting her keys up higher after that. Apparently this Princess is never to be trusted!

This year I was a di (still looking for my 'ce' apparently). I couldn't bend and the waist, couldn't be rolled or fit through a crowded room without turning sideways, or even sit down- but I sure felt lucky! The odds were totally in my favor! (There are 5 dots on my front side. The one dot was on my rear- which Roland liked to refer to as my butt-hole throughout the night. Awkward.)

So to all you October 31 fans I say this: I hope your hair doesn't smell, you see the result of the costume contest you win, that you keep your keys out of light sockets, and that you think about the placement of your dots.

Happy Ween o' Hallows!

Skinny Ankles

I'm not exactly what you would call a 'fit' person. But I do enjoy the fitness on a regular basis. It's a work in progress for me, this journey we call health. I gym it up often. I run (not quickly). I elliptical (like a machine). I lift (and have shaky muscles). I do squats (complaining the whole time). Though I have much farther to go to reach my personal fitness goals, I am happy to say that I am at least doing something. Which let me tell you- two(ish) years ago was something I could not say. So 'woot woot' for me.

Anyway....

It seems like some of my more interesting/funny/awkward interactions are at the gym. I don't know what it is about that place. It's like when you're looking your worse, and smelling your worst, and sweating your most, people flock to you. Um- I put a lot of effort into looking good most days, so why is it when I look like Hades, do I get the most conversation. Why, world. Why?

While at the gym yesterday, in the middle of leg presses ah thank you, an elderly women approached me. In her defense, we do know each other outside of good ol' Gym 24. But the exchange was nothing short of hilarious. It went something like this.

Fort he sake an anonymity, we'll call her Blara.

Blara: Emily- it's so good to see you here doing something.

Emily: Yeah! I'm here pretty often. Really trying to get healthier. I've been pretty good about it for the last year or so.

Blara: Good for you. Because you have such a pretty face.

Emily: Oh. Well. Thanks. Now I'm just working on the rest..... cricket, cricket, cricket.

Blara: Do it while you're young. Because when you're old like me, it's not as easy. And you have such a pretty face.

Emily: Insert awkard laugh and.... Cricket. Cricket. Cricket.

A few minutes later...

Blara: Keep at it Emily. Because you really have a pretty face.

Emily: Thanks again, Blara. Cricket. Cricket. Cricket.

Blara: At least you have nice legs. Look at those skinny ankles!

Emily: Yep- they're svelte from carrying around the rest of me.

Blara: Look at those skinny ankles....

So interwebs, I'm happy to report that not only did I walk away from the gym yesterday with a few more miles logged into the books and a few more pounds lifted, but I now know that my skinny ankles and pretty face really do leave their mark in this world.

So no need to call me Emily anymore. From now on I'll be answering to Skinny Anlkes, ah thank you!

I'm Glad I Had a Footlong. The Napkins Came in Handy

"I was oddly content not trying to predict the outcome of the movie because i was too busy trying to control my emotions." Roland Ferrie, circa last night.

Let me set the stage:
Two 25 year olds.
One patio love seat. (Not ideal for two larger than life people. He in ego, me in bum width)
Crisp night. A light jacket was suitable.
A nice computer with an irritatingly dirty screen.
Black dog at our feet.
Tears-a-plenty.

As we started to watch the movie, my hopes were high. I could feel it in my bones that this was gonna be a winner. Like maybe not as winner as any Tom Hanks movie ever made, because if we're being honest with ourselves, that man is pure gold. But I knew it was going to be good. Andie MacDowell was in it and ever since her epic performance in Groundhog Day, my life has been forever changed. So yes. I was hopeful. Mister Ro on the other hand was less than optimistic. But let's be frank here, there are many movies that I bring home from my job at the FamVid that are less than stellar- like the one movie we watched about a support group for zombies- not exactly a homerun. So based on previous experience, Ro may have had reason to question.

Anyway, last night, on the most Sunday of Sundays, I forced Mister Ro to watch The 5th Quarter with me. It started out like a Hallmark, Made for TV Movie. The opening scene consisted of old fading pictures set to cheesy, yet whimsical, piano music. Before you know it, you see a 15 year-old boy kissing his father as he's dropped of at school (Um- that right there was enough to scream OXYGEN network. What boy at 15 kisses their father. In front to people. None that I know. Or that I've seen outside of Jerry Springer-which is a whole other blog post) In any case, cheesy music continues, yada yada, family love ensues, yada yada, and before we know it we're at the tragedy of the movie that defines the plot.

Now I think it's important to note that I generally am not a huge crier. I didn't cry when I got my caugh*8th*caugh tattoo. I didn't cry when Brad and Emily broke up. And I didn't even cry when the cast of Dancing with the Stars was announced tonight. Which by the way, I totally should have because they all are crap. I just don't shed tears that easily. Unless my heart is really hurting. Then I cry. More like wail. If I'm gonna do it, I'm gonna REALLY do it.

As this tragedy unfolds, I couldn't help myself. The tears started to well in my eye beds. If I blinked they were going to fall. So instead I sat there wide eyed, hoping a gust of wind would come and help a sister out. No such luck. I blinked and down they went. I felt silly. Until i heard just seconds after the blubbering and sniffling fool next to me

So there we sat, both crying like babies, sniffling like fools, consumed by emotion. Mind you- this is about 13 minutes into the movie. Great. We're screwed. It's a good thing I had a few Subway napkins left over from my $5 footlong. It was at probably the most moving/emotional part of the movie that Ro and I really let our emotions get the best of us. Not only were we snot-nosed sobbing, but we started laughing hysterically. I can not even imagine what we looked like from the neighbors who of course were peering out of their kitchen window at us. PA to the THETIC. (figuring out how to type that wasn't nearly as easy as it should have been. The double 'the THE' really threw me for a minute. Don't judge.)

In any case, this movie was good. No- check that- great. Roland didn't even talk excessively or point out the coloring, film effects, or director's errors. For him, this is huge. Something actually shut him up. Unfortunately I was not so lucky while watching the Bachelor Pad tonight... but I digress.

So yes. We cried numerous times. Felt uplifted. And just plain silly by our over-emotional showing. Our only comic relief during the movie was the character Rachel and her impeccably timed facial reactions. If you watch the movie, you might understand. We just couldn't get enough. So watch this movie. Watch it with your kids. Watch it with your youth group. Watch it alone (probably the best idea since tears are almost inevitable). Maybe you can do it without the love seat, lap-top, and neighbors peering in on you. But watch it. You'll be glad you did.

*Let it be known that though I work for FamVid, these views are my own and I was in no way paid to review this movie. Though it they would have offered, I totally would have accepted. I am not above that. Word.

In the Most Emily-ist of Fashion

In my extensive years and extensive wisdom, I have learned many important lessons. Unfortunately some of them have been learned the hardway. But I digress... On this 25th anniversary week of my entrance into this lovely world, I'd like to take the opportunity to share with you my "Top 25 Things I've Learned in the Most Emily-ist of Fashion"

1. Dont wear a short(ish) light-weight dress on a windy day when visiting a new church. People will know you more quickly than you were expecting.

2. Take out the trash on a regular basis. People judge you if you don't. And then will ask over and over and over and over and over again why you didn't do it. (PS If I had an acceptable answer, I would have told you the FIRST time you asked)

3. It is okay to build completely new patios if it makes your neighbors clean up their backyard as well. Suckas! It's is especially okay to do this with your dad. Bonding over retaining walls at its finest!

4. It is not okay to put Mindilicious on speaker phone with your office door open. Sometimes the woman's mouth is on fire and the wrong person might just happen to walk by. Like your boss. No, not Jesus. Though I'm certain He heard it, too.

5. It IS okay to still talk to your Mom everyday. She's cute and will always make your day a little better.

6. Find a RHYTHM (a healthy, sustainable, life-giving, pattern that works for you) and just do it. Quit finding excuses. Life begins when you're 'in-step.'

7. You can't give it out, if you don't have it yourself. Oh so wise. So, so wise.

8. Best not to call your dog by his nickname when the neighbors are out or small children are around. You might be tagged as intolerant.

9. When your Sister tells you to read a book and even goes as far as to buy it for you, actually read it. Mama didn't raise no fool with that one! That book might just change your life. AND if it does, its completely appropriate to pass it onto everyone you know.

10. Make check-lists if necessary. A visual reminder never hurts anyone.

11. Always check to make sure that your window rolls down BEFORE you're in the middle of the drive through.

12. If you're going to get caught for something you shouldn't be doing, own up to it before you're called out on it. It makes the punishment far less. Right Mindilicious? I think we both know the high school party were talking about here....

13. When drinking a beer or seven at higher altitude, remember that less oxygen means faster and stronger effects.

14. It's completely appropriate to pick up the dog poop before a bag of it weighs 33 pounds.

15. It is also okay to watch where you're walking. Those cracks might just jump out and get you when you're least expecting it.

15.5 It is NOT okay to sit in Hy-Vee after falling over one of those cracks and cry. Even if you haven't had water that day. It's just not acceptable. Unless Jeffry is there. Then cry away.

16. If you want to buy one of the cutest and kindest black labs ever, totally do it. Even though they poop like a machine and shed like an alpaca, they're so darn wonderful. They kiss you when you least expect it. Snuggle with you when you need it most. And make you care about something other than yourself. They also are a good form of birth control. Because if you're complaining about letting the dog out at 3am, imagine what a child would be like.

17. It is okay to call the police if there are unidentified animals trapped in your window wells. It is also okay to let them have their guns drawn if it means that innocent lives will be saved. Mainly Ro in his blue terrycloth robe.

18. When you decide you want to buy a house, do it within a week. It really helps to cut down on the nerves and anticipation. There really is no time like the present. Also- assemble a mob of children to help you move. They accept many forms of payment, and will enjoy the extra space to inhabit.

19. Don't let Asians live in your basement or cook in your kitchen. It's potent.

20. Cherish the people you love. Make memories that last. And honor the lives that they lived. And if they ask you to do a monkey call, always do it. You never know when you might be able to monkey no-more.

21. Harry Potter is much more than a children's book. Read it for the lessons of faith, purpose, endurance, and self discovery that it really is. Remember that, "It is our choices, that show who we truly are, far more than our abilities" - Professor Dumbledore

22. Work at Family Video if for no other reason than to get the free movies. Your cable bill will thank you.

23. When people are mean to you, take it as a challenge. Don't let the mean girls in a bar or hurtful emails get you down. Consider it your privilege to show them that you are stronger than that.

24. Love your work. It makes it less difficult to get up everyday. And on the hard days, a prayer never hurts anything.

25. Above all else (even if this quote comes from a show that has the good parts edited out by TBS) "The most exciting, challenging, and significant relationship of all is the one that you have with yourself. And if you find someone to love the you you love, well that's just fabulous." -Carrie Bradshaw

twenty five

Dear Emily,

Well. You've made it this far. Well done young one, well done.

Love,
Emily

Work Ethic and Purple Shirts

An eventful day.

A good day.
A blessed day.

To illustrate, I'll share with you some numbers:
7:15 :: the time we woke up
42 :: the number of sandwiches Mark made this morning (apparently teenage boys are hungry. like all the time. who knew?)
8:15 :: the time we left the church
10 :: the number of minutes early we arrived at our volunteer site

Public Service Information: Today we spent our time at Food Bank of the Rockies. There we worked in the USDA warehouse, packaging boxes of food to be distributed to families in the Denver/Metro Area. To qualify for one of these boxes, you must have a household of at least four and make no more than 24,000 a year combined income.

Back to the numbers:
500 :: the number of boxes FBR distributes A DAY
2 :: the number of gallon juices and cans of pears that went in a distribution box.
4 :: the number of cans of tomatos in a box.
1 :: the number of cereal, peanut butter, cans of beef, and bags of noodles included in a distribution box.
400 :: the average number of boxes a group will complete in a 6 hour shift
501 :: the number of boxes we set as a goal to complete.
230 :: the number of boxes we completed in the first hour and a half of work.
700 :: the new goal we set for ourselves after we saw what we were capable of.
811 :: the actual number of boxes we completed.
756 :: the number of cans of tomatos we were short to complete 1000 boxes.
3 :: the number of hours we worked TOTAL.

Yes. We complete DOUBLE what a group normally completes in 6 hours in only 3. We had no intention of stopping at anything less than 1000 completed boxes. However, we literally ran the warehouse dry of supplies. Oops. That'll teach them what it's like to work with a bunch of power-house Midwest kids. There's something to be said about Midwest work ethic! So parents, you should be proud. The organization was pretty much stunned. People would walk by and just stare at us. They gathered on the side and watched us in action. They whispered about us as the passed by. And even peeked our of offices to observe the show. At the beginning of our shift, I asked our volunteer coordinator if 500 was a good goal to complete. He looked at me like I was crazy and the awkwardly affirmed the suggestion, knowing that if he didn't, I might flip out or something for doubting our abilities. I don't even know where he would get that idea....

Anyway.

Needless to say, today the church was on fire.
No, No, No.
Not LITERALLY on fire. (No need to worry parents, as far as I know, your kids left their stock of pyrotechnics at home...)
But lit up, motivated, on a roll, fired up.
These kids, YOUR kids, OUR church was on fire today.
And boy did it feel good.
I really felt like one proud Mama. Tear.

After a hard days of work, we made our way to Coors Field to watch the Colorado Rockies take on the San Diego Padres. Unfortunately due to thunder, lightning, and rain we left early and didn't get to see the end of the game. Apparently sitting in the bleacher seats, that just so happen to be highest seats in the field, while it's lighting isn't the safest. Thank goodness I have parents here with me that ayer on the side of caution. I however, was hoping just to write off the storm as Gods way of telling us he was less than enthusiastic that the Padres were leading in runs.

We made it home. He talked some more about Jesus. We scared ourselves in a dark church, and now all the kiddos are sleeping soundly. Alright- that might be somewhat of a stretch. Let's rephrase. They are in their rooms with the door shut and lights off. Most importantly they are in a different room than me, and at this point in the day, that's good enough for me!

So today was good.
We were the hands, the body, the sweat, the blisters, the sore backs of Christ.
Our boys wore Rockies Purple with pride as we cheered on the home team.
And now were in bed.
I think a 'Hallelujah!' is in order!

I leave you with some pictures.
Enjoy! (And please try not to judge, showers are sparse in these parts)

Don't the look good? Much better than the hooligans we usually see running around!

Because we were clearly too cool to be in the 'youth' picture. I think it is undeniable that we make Chaperones look good.

Our box makers. They have battle wounds from this. Picture upon request. Unless I'm going to get in trouble for exposing them to a potentially harmful situation. Then I have no idea what you're even talking about...

Our box cutters, openers, recyclers. I will neither confirm nor deny that they may or may not be holding a sharp cutting tool.

The calm before the storm of the assembly line crew. Little did FBR know that moments later we would take the warehouse by storm. BAM!

They stared out so clean and cute. Then the rain came, and it was a totally different story...

How can you not be happy when you climb stairs to see these awesome kids jumping up and down waving? Just precious. That is until you realize they're not waving to you...

I paid them in cotton candy to smile. The blue and purple mouths were an insurance plan they would refrain from flirting with the kids in front of us. Brilliant. That's what I am.

Up for tomorrow: World Vision, Chipotle, and a Rockin' Church Service.

It's gonna be good.