Introducing Little Foot!

Or Noodle, or Floppy, or Val, or Sally the Dog.




Or Stealth, or Ninja, or Phantom.


Or Chocolate Chip, or Lady, or Duchess, or Greta.
I have no idea. I think tomorrow I'm going to call her Little Foot all day and see how it goes.

Sally the...

I guess we have a dog. My parents never cease to surprise me, and today was our second day with our 4-month-old female black Goldendoodle. I feel like hybrids are trendy right now, and I'm trying not to hold it against our new pup.

Anyway, we need to name the pup.

Mother wants Greta or Fern.

Dad likes Val or Lady

I like Scout or Sally.

Now, some of you may know that we have a cat named Sally. Sally the Cat. Our dog would be Sally the Dog, so I don't anticipate any confusion. Also, Sally the Cat keeps a pretty low profile outside of our house, so it's not like we are going to ever have two Sallys in one room. It's just not gonna happen. I introduced the idea of Sally the Dog to Mother this evening, and she thought it was funny. She thought it was so funny that she thinks I'm kidding. But I'm not. I'm really voting for Sally the Dog.

Adventure Day

On those blessed weeks that I have the opportunity to work on a Saturday, I usually end up with a random day off during the week.

That day was today. It started like most random days off: sleep in, eat breakfast, read the paper, work out, dink around online, take a shower, do something, receive call from Jodie regarding their next big adventure, put on shoes, grab jacket, hop in adventure-mobile, begin adventure.

Today we went to see the Monarch Butterflies at the Pismo State Beach.



Also, as a follow up to the butterflies, we hit the Pismo pier for a little dancing in the sun.



Hopefully Jodie will post pictures of the awesome swings we swung on. Hopefully.

Oh, and also I think my parents have decided to get a dog. Tomorrow. And I think it's going to sleep in my room. Who knew?

April What?

Phew!

I just TurboTaxed my taxes.

It feels so liberating to file so early in the year. Also exhausting. I don't recommend it.

Truth Can Do That

Do I look young?

Today my coworker told me she thought I was nineteen or twenty. When I told her how wrong she was, she was honestly quite surprised. Since I was about twenty-three, I have found that people consistently guess my age as about three years younger than is correct. These sorts of guesses come from people who are both younger and older than me, so I don't think it's a generational thing. Also, I never ask people how old I am, I hate that. Why put someone on the spot like that? It's silly. So, these people that have guessed at my age have done so because they were so surprised when the truth was discovered that they simply had to divulge their inmost thoughts. Truth can do that to people.

Well? Do I look my age?

Nine

Tonight I learned of another couple engaged to be married.

So... Nine, I guess.

Thankfully, I've been doing a pretty good job keeping to myself this year and staying out of the social scene. This means I don't have to attend all of these weddings and bridal showers. Can you imagine if I had to buy a gift for each couple for the wedding AND for the bridal shower? Can you? I hope you are doing the math, because that would be ridiculous. Ridiculously expensive.

I have a long discourse about wedding presents and the showers and registries and the what-nots that are involved in the getting married process but it isn't quite at the point of publication yet. It involves largely my financial role in the lives of people I'm just "what ev" about, the idiocy of certain techniques some couples take on in the registering process, and how when it's my turn to be married, all of these people are going to be long gone.

Some Rolling and Some Math

I'm almost twenty-six. For twenty-six years I've been walking around, just trying to be me, to figure out my personality and the things that I like or dislike, the reason things annoy me, or the reason why things make me happy. I've been quite busy trying to figure all of this, and some times my brain hurts for all the figuring.

Tonight a piece of the puzzle fell into place.

Tonight I had a breakthrough, a breakthrough that I think is perhaps key into delving deeper into who I really am.

Tonight I played Yahtzee. And I didn't hate it.

You see, Mother has always adored Yahtzee. While growing up, I would play with her, but I don't remember ever liking it. When Mary moved into our house, and she first discovered the game, it's like she was meant to have those dice in her hand. So, Mary and Mother frequently play the game, and I am free to do other things, like, say, not play Yahtzee.

Tonight, on a whim, I asked to play with them. It was my turn first. I threw down a bare-hand roll, and the dice went flying! Mother tried to stop one of them from falling off the table, but I looked at her with the "Don't touch the dice!" look, and she didn't touch them. I looked over my roll, made my decision, and was picking up the dice that I wanted to re-roll when my opponents started making noises like they disagreed with my decision. I gave them a "don't talk to me look" and they didn't. In fact, they didn't talk the entire game. It was marvelous. All of the pressure had been removed! I could make my game decisions without other people casting judgements, telling me what I should do, informing me of all my options, or sighing like I've made the worst decision of my life when I don't do what has been recommended. Of course, in those situations, I always feel like I need to justify my choice, and sometimes I'm just not in the mood.

Plus, I don't care that much. I only start to care that I do whatever it is that they don't want me to do.

So, without anyone saying anything, I can roll the dice and meet failure or victory without judgement or opinion. It's brilliant.

Also, a no talking game also means no cheering or groaning. Yahtzee can get pretty noisy with all the cheers and screams and defeated moans. I have, never, ever, ever in my life elicited a scream, cheer or groan in the game of Yahtzee because I wanted to. I have cheered for others only because I would seem like a poor sport, or a pathetic depressed person if I didn't get excited.

When those vocal emotions are removed, the pressure is off; I don't have to pretend that I care. It was so liberating! I LOVED the feeling! Just rolling the dice! That's all it was! Some rolling and some math! It was great!

Engaged

I was minding my own business today at church when it was announced that there are seven couples in the ward that are engaged.

Engaged to be married.

Seven? Who are these people? Do I even know 14 people?

The Nine Year Error

Mary talking with her mother on the phone: Happy twenty ten!
Me butting into their conversation: Two thousand ten!
Dad correcting me: Twenty ten!
Me: What? You can't add that extra syllable?
Dad: What year were you born?
Me: Nineteen...
Dad: See? Not one thousand nine hundred
Me: So why, for the past nine years have we said two thousand...
Dad: It has been an error.
Me: A nine year error?
Dad: Yes.


It seems as though the online community agrees with Mary and Father. I, however, probably won't change my ways for a while, mostly because I don't like being bossed around. No one is going to force me to say twenty ten! Not until I'm good and ready!