Enuff

You know what's weird? Yesterday I was craving Diet Coke all day and I don't even drink Diet Coke.

I don't even like Diet Coke.

You know what else is weird? I think my Bishop is trying to convert me. To biking. He has that are you sure? look on his face when he asks me again and again if I need to borrow a bike for the ward bike hike this week. I hope he doesn't bust out the 1st discussion on me because I'm pretty sure it has something to do with believing in spandex. And I don't believe in spandex. I only believe in the gospel according to sweat pants.

You know what else is weird? I'm finally living my dream. Not my dream with the creepy guy creeping down my hallway in the middle of the night, shining his creepy flashlight in my face. My other dream. The one where I'm a home owner. And a dog owner. Technically those dreams were my hub's and my kid's, but living their dreams is way cooler than living my dream with the creepy flashlight guy.

Except remember how I told you in my last post about my issues with religious zeal? I'm a little worried about my dog. She's showing signs . . . if you know what I mean . . .

I finally got her through her sock fetish and her eating disorders, but now I think she's found religion.

Hee hee

(Is it just me or is that a halo around my son's head?)

These aren't the only weirdities going on in my life right now. I've somehow turned into a Wicked song. You know the one that goes, "Something has changed within me. Something I can't explain . . ." I testify that that song is true. I am not the same. As I was a year ago. Or 20 years ago. I am not that girl. Anymore.

It kinda feels like I'm having an out of body experience. Like I'm floating above myself looking down on that girl and that life and trying to feel what she felt, trying to summon the pain and the sorrow and the frustration and the angst. But it doesn't come.

Where is the angst?

I sit in church and things that used to make me grit my teeth or shake my fist don't even make me roll my eyes. They just make me giggle.

I look around me at the church ladies and the Barbie Doll ladies and . . . nothing. Nada. Just, oh, wells.

Alls I can summon is a shrug. And a sigh. Of relief. That I don't find spray tans and neon white teeth something to emulate and strive for.

And I like being flat chested too. The better to wrap my arms around myself and give myself a hug for being so dang flawed.

So thankful I'm so dang flawed.

And so thankful other people are so dang flawed. I am rubbing shoulders with the coolest dang flawed people in Utah.

As for the other people, and the places, and the positions that used to make me feel less than or I can't or I'll never, now just make me feel . . . YAWN!


Whatevah!


That's alls I can muster.



This didn't just dawn on me, btw. It's been an awakening. Or maybe a drifting off. I'm not sure which.


The weirdest is Mt. Carmel. I used to get so anxious whenever I had to go there to visit my grandma. I could never stay for more than an hour and I had to stop and stuff my face at every restaurant and gas station along the way.

Just in case.

But this last trip alls I felt was whatevah.

I didn't care that my grandma didn't feed me.

I fed her.

I'm a big girl now.

We split a plate of green beans and grapes and a slice of avacado

And it was enuff.

And she was enuff.

And he was enuff.

And I was enuff.

P.S. I got a great contribution to The Magic Quilt from Don Carey and it's full of Aloha. Go read it. Please, please, pretty please. It will make your eyeballs sweat.