I'm not as young as I once was

I spent the day at Knott's Berry Farm with some friends. I only got us lost once on the way there (seriously, the 5 north is so confusing if you're not paying attention). Some lady gave us a coupon so we all got in cheaper than we thought we would. Which was good, because a bunch of the big rides were closed. So lame! And by the end of the day, we had almost gotten over making comparisons to Disneyland.

Cons: absolutely no efficiency...on anything. Seriously, we had to wait forever for the rides go, and once the ride was over, we had to wait forever to get off. Disneyland's small army makes that place a well-oiled machine.

Pros: the longest we waited in any line was 20 minutes, and that was for the log ride. Why that line was so long on the coldest day of the autumn so far is beyond me. But we weren't complaining, because it meant we could go on more rides. Like the Pony Express, which would have been so much cooler if it had been longer. And we got to do my favorite ride twice.

The only problem with today: I'm not 16 any more. Back in the day, I could do theme parks like this for days and never feel a thing. Today, the Silver Bullet had me walking sideways for a few minutes after we got off. The Pony Express made it difficult to breathe. The evil hang-you-upside-down ride gave me a headache. So at the end of it all, all we wanted was a long nap and a couple of Advil.

When did I become old?

Recently rejected Facebook statuses

Mindy...
has 3 versions of "Route 66" on her mp3 player.
needs a personal assistant/cook/trainer/maid.
smells like fixer.
should wear sensible shoes.
wants it to be fall.
knows she's more than just a little misunderstood.
needs more time in the day.
wishes she could rent children for a day.
is tired of being stressed out by things that shouldn't stress her out.

Keep your feet clean, you never know when one will end up in your mouth

I feel like this blog has become like a long distance friend. At one time, we told each other everything. But now that we've become separated (by distance, circumstance, time, whatever), we feel like we have to have earthshattering news to break the silence. Anything short of an engagement announcement or kidney transplant seems so mundane in the broad outlook of our lives. And so, I have nothing particular to say today, but I'm posting anyway to remind my friend the blog that I'm alive.

I can't say no. That whole scene in 27 Dresses was like watching a documentary of my life (well, minus the drinking and being in a bar). Case in point: A few weeks ago, a guy tried to get my phone number because he wanted to go grab ice cream one night that week. I said no, I'm sorry, I'm busy. He tried again for the weekend. Again, no, sorry, I'm busy. (It was true too. I didn't have time to eat or sleep that week, let alone make small talk with a guy I don't know over calories I didn't need.) He tried one more time; I said no and got in my car. It didn't help that I thought he was this guy who just didn't remember his previous attempt. Driving away, I felt horrible. Of course, I learned a few days later that it wasn't him and really felt like an idiot. But you know what? Thinking he was the previous guy just gave me the courage to say no. Otherwise, I would have felt guilted into saying yes to something I really didn't want to do.

Guys aren't the only thing I can't say no to. I have the same problem at work, when I take on projects I don't have time for; with roommates, when they decide to paint the living room purple or buy a dog; even with friends, when I say yes to tubing trips I don't want to go on. Then I get all grouchy and snarly because I get stressed out. So I'm going to try an experiment: for the next week, I say no without feeling guilty.

Today I finally overcame trying to fit the world inside a picture frame

Two weeks ago I kind of lost it. We put a sign on our office door that said, "Whatever it is, the answer is no." And we meant it. So on Wednesday, I decided to run away. I booked a room at the Sheraton in downtown San Diego, and the thought of that big comfy bed in a room all by myself got me through the rest of the week.

The hotel was almost perfect. My one complaint was that I should have had a fantastic view of downtown San Diego from my balcony, but there was a huge eucalyptus tree in the way. I fell asleep watching the Olympics in bed. I had a wonderful time hanging out with a coworker and her boyfriend at the zoo on Saturday. I slept in. But what made my weekend was spending the morning in bed reading From the Mixed-up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler. It's one of my favorite books of all time, and that's saying a lot. It's about a girl who runs away from home...to the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York. That's my kind of running away. Anywhos, there's this bit at the end that struck me this time:

The adventure is over. Everything gets over, and nothing is ever enough. Except the part you carry with you. It's the same as going on vacation. Some people spend all their time on vacation taking pictures so that when they get home they can show their friends evidence that they had a good time. They don't pause to let the vacation enter inside of them and take that home.

It took me until Sunday afternoon, when I was back from San Diego and sitting in church, to figure out how to get the vacation inside me. All weekend what I had really been looking for was peace, so I filled the weekend with fun activities and long, hot bubble baths in attempt to relax. But I also knew that come Monday, I would just have to deal with everything again. And then I found my peace--in a place I've been hundreds of times before. Funny how that works.

The zoo was still wonderful.

These boots are made for walkin'

It's been one of those weeks again. And yes, it's only Tuesday. The big project at work that has caused most of my stress this year now has a deadline of August 29. So if I snap at you in the next few weeks, it's nothing personal.

This isn't helping either:


On Sunday morning, my foot started hurting, like a joint needed to pop but couldn't. A lot like what happened to my other foot last year. Except this time I'm not training for a half marathon. I didn't drop anything on it or hit it or injure it in any way that I can remember. It just hurts.

My coworkers (the two that act like my "work parents") convinced me that I should go have it checked out. The doctor looked at it, said there was a little swelling, and prescribed an anti-inflammatory and a post-surgical boot. Unfortunately, the boot helps, so I think I'm stuck with it for the next week.

I don't want to grow up...

I had an absolutely fantastic birthday. My momma sent me a wonderful birthday box that included the massaging pillow I picked out at Christmas (the reminders every month or so didn't hurt). At work I got a birthday bagel for breakfast and lunch at Lucille's. But the day really started at 5 when I left work for Disneyland. Best. Idea. Ever.

I got a nifty little happy birthday button, which meant that everyone wished me a happy birthday. This included ride operators, custodians, and even a few random park guests. If you have gutsy, persistent friends, the button can even help get you on rides faster. And forget blowing out candles; I got to wish on fireworks. So yeah. Great day.

Yesterday I was wearing another birthday present: a cute teal polo shirt.


Except I caught a side glance of myself in the bathroom and really saw this:


Apparently 10+ years later, nothing has changed besides the braces.

Belief is a powerful armor

I've been thinking a lot about this post, and how I want to say it, and how to make myself come across right. And I'm not done thinking about it, but it's time to put something down on the digital paper.

I'm going to start with a story. It's from General Conference back when I was in high school. Elder Busche tells the story of a man he knew who had recently started a job with a small, private company. The company was having a dinner party that was sure to become a drinking party. This man was worried about the drinking, but he also didn't want to offend his boss by not attending the party at all.

When I saw him again, after that dinner event occurred, I saw him with a most happy, deep inner glow, and he could not wait to tell me what had happened. Because he was new in the company, the boss had sat right next to him, wanting to get to know him better. As the evening progressed, the brother saw his wildest fears confirmed because the boss would not tolerate that he would not drink beer with him, and he said, "What kind of church is that that would not permit you to drink even a glass of beer with me?"

The fear of my friend did not grow into panic as he was able to calmly answer his boss that the reason he was not drinking had nothing to do with the church that he belonged to, but that he himself had made a sacred covenant with God that he would not drink. If he would ever break this covenant, how could he continue to stay true to that which he would ever promise, and how could he be trusted, even by his employer, that he would not lie or steal or cheat.

According to my friend, the owner was deeply touched by this statement, and he hugged him, speaking words of profound admiration and confidence.

As a high schooler just starting to figure things out on my own, I remember this story really struck a chord for me. I had been told since Primary that I needed to find out for myself, needed to have my own testimony. But it had never occurred to me that it wasn't about what my religion told me I couldn't do; it was about my covenant with the Lord that I wouldn't do those things. This knowledge has spread to all aspects of the gospel for me, to the point that I do know for myself.

The reason this has been on my mind recently is Prop 8. How do I explain to people why I feel the way I do? And then I remembered this story. So here's the deal: we have been counseled to support this measure. I have studied and prayed, and as a result, I know I need to support it. And that part of me supporting it involves writing blog posts like this. But that's me. The rest of you will have to figure it out for yourselves.