Oh, Rats! (and skunks, men and calves)

Yesterday, I saw a giant rat, I mean, a rat as big as the ones in Taiwan, in my backyard. I was lucky in that while in Taiwan, I only saw rats out in the street, and mostly dead ones at that, squished and dead by passing scooterist, and the occasional live one running on the street, across the telephone wires, or in the nicest park in TianMu. Yet, there I was, out at dusk watering the flowers when I look over toward the garden and the compost area, and there was this huge vermin sitting there eating a late dinner. Call it deja vu, or just repulsion, but I was very disgusted and grossed out. Once, when we lived across the street, I saw a mouse out in the wood pile, and that freaked me out. However, that mouse doesn't even come close to describing the thing I saw eating the garbage yesterday. It was huge! Do you remember the ROUS'es of Princess Bride?? You know, the Rodents of Unusual Size? That would be an apt description.

As for skunks, tonight as I was walking to my car from work, I could smell skunk in the air. It's not uncommon; I work out in the brushland of Decker Lake and we have a huge dumpster filled with garbage that tends to attract unwanted species of rodent. Skunks are often spotted. Well, I got in my car and started driving out to the main road. As I turned out, there was the culprit, or should I say culprits, for there was not one, but two skunks sitting in the middle of the road. I had no other option but to stop and wait for them to notice me; there was not really room enough to go around them without getting too close for comfort. They finally noticed me and trotted off into the sage brush. I tell you, it was a close call.

And then there are men. I work with a lot of nice guys, all of them too old and none of them up to my standards. Yet, sometimes they make me laugh or blush because they are just so darn nice and funny. Tonight I was working and, due to the hot weather, I was wearing capris. I've worn them before and no one has ever said anything. Tonight one of my coworkers asked if I was into sports, if I was athletic. I told him no, because I'm not, and then he surprised me by saying that he thought I might be because I have really nice and big calves. He continued to say that when he meets a girls he doesn't look at the hair or the eyes, but at her calves. He likes them big and meaty. Well, if that doesn't make a girl blush!!! Yes, I have big calves, but only recently have I taken pride in them. Before my mission they were just big, flabby pieces of soft muscle. After my mission, they were rock hard and defined (riding a bike for 18 months will do that). Now, they are not so hard but still nice. Anyway, my friend continued speaking about my calves, and if I wasn't already blushing enough, he asked if he could feel it. What is a girl to say?! As if I wasn't already red and sweating!? I consented, he felt it, and he said it was nice. Trying to make light of the situation I said that they come in handy for wearing high heels. At that he whistled and said he bet I looked good in high heels. Well, thanks, I guess. That was the end of the calf conversation for the moment, but as we were leaving for the night he said, "I hope you wear your capris again tomorrow." AI YOU!!! Shoot! I had already told myself that that was the last time I wore capris to work. And men think women are hard to figure out!!!!!

A Classical Confession

If you know me at all, you know that I love to read, especially the classics. Give me a Jane Austen, and I could tell you every plot, character, love interest, and bad guy. Give me Charles Dickens, and I could tell you that A Tale of Two Cities is amazing and that Great Expectations is just what the title implies: it expects you to be a great reader because it is hard! The Bronte Sisters, L.M. Montgomery, Dumas, Forster, and Gaskell -- I'm a fan of all. However, being the avid reader that I am, I admit that up until recently I have never read the classic of the classics, Little Women. I know! How can you have read them all if you have never read Little Women?!?! Usually when I confess this small fact I am met with wonder and shame. That I have never read the book is inexplainable and unpardonable. I have tried to read it at least twice before. I was never able to get past 30 or so pages. It was just too boring or too something or other for me to go on. Well, I had a resolve to finally read it. At the beginnning of this last school semester I stuck the book into my backpack thinking that anytime I'd get bored with studying, I'd pull it out and read it instead of the textbook. It happened occasionally, but not often. Progress was slow or completely nonexistent. When the semester ended I was going through my things and found the poor paperback, and little worse for the wear but still unfinished. I had had a goal to read this book once and, by george, I was going to do it!! Well, a month later and I finally finisihed! And I'll tell you what, it is one of the best books I've ever read. I laughed, I cried (a lot), I loved and learned many lessons about life. So many good things come from this book. My only regret is that I didn't read it sooner. But now I have and am the better for it.

It's Official!

It is official! (And no, I am not engaged.). Today, I received my DIPLOMA via USPS. That's right, I am officially a COLLEGE GRADUATE! WAHOO! After opening the coveted envelope, I took evaluation of my situation: Yes, I have finished my undergraduate career, and yes, I have earned a Bachelor's Degree, but really, I feel just as lost and confused as I did before. I still don't know where I'm going, or what I want to do in life, and I still don't have a boyfriend (sigh). So really, I'm back to where I started. Now I just have an extra piece of paper to carry around. Oh, and GO UTES!!

I could never be a workaholic

So, this last week was murderous, that is to say, that by the time Saturday ended I would have liked to murder someone, anyone, as long as there was blood. I think it would have made me feel better, although the consequences wouldn't have been good. Overall this last week, I think I worked 54 hours in 5 days. Talk about tiring, especially to a girl who is used to getting only 25 hours a week or so.

As most of you know, I work two jobs: one, at the Decker Lake Youth Center, and two, at the Joseph Smith Memorial Building. At one, I work with delinquent teenagers, and at the other, I work with mostly college-aged young adults who sometimes act younger than teenagers. At one, I need to be responsible, and at the other, I feel like I'm the one grown up enough for responsibility. Anyway, on Thursday, Friday, and Saturday, I had to split my days between both jobs. I did well on Thursday, but when Friday came I was already feeling the affects of an already long week. I went to Decker in the morning, had to work with 6 emotionally unstable and needy girls, got paint on my favorite and only pair of khakis, and got bawled out by my supervisor. In between shifts I did a little shopping therapy, visited my Grandma, felt a little better, and then it was off to job number 2. There, I felt like I was the only one working, trying to be done so that I could go home. All others were standing there with their mouths hanging open and blank eyes, doing nothing. Then I got in trouble for working too hard and too fast, while 4 of my fellow co-workers engaged in a food fight. I tell you, these dorks act like they are 5. Thank goodness for moms, Tylenol, and Dr. Pepper; I don't think I would have survived Saturday without them.

I think that my work experiences over the last few days have taught me something: That I will never, ever, ever, become a workaholic. I'll tell you, all work and no fun isn't very fun at all. Wasn't it Brigham Young who said something about prioritizing your day so that you get 8 hours of sleep, 8 hours of work, and 8 hours of fun? I think I should follow the prophets' counsel more thoroughly: play more, work less, and get a good amount of sleep. Oh, and I'll think about that "no killing" thing, too.

Are you JILL'in?

Have you heard the DR. Scholl's slogan that asks you "Are you Gel'in?" It is amazing how a little slab of rubber and a smattering of googey, gel-like substance can make your feet feel so much better. Any girl who has ever worn torturous shoes just to make her self look taller, her legs longer, her feet smaller, or her outfit cuter, knows just how painful some shoes can be. Yet, you wiggle your toes, add the Dr. Scholl's, and viola! your feet feel so much better.

As for me, my feet are fine, but I have finally decided to join the technological age, stop counting on my abucus, and begin my own blog--a huge step, I know. I'm just trying to follow in the footsteps of my many friends and family who like to publically chronical their daily life on the internet. This decision is one that I have been contemplating for a little while -- I mean, starting a blog isn't something that you can just jump right into to. Today, I'm putting my best foot forward and exposing myself to the whole world. And so not only do I ask "Are you Gel'in?" but also, "Are you JILL'in?"

I think I deserve a new pair of shoes. . .