That's nice! Ash on my tomatoes!

New Year's Eve is one of my least favorite holidays. I feel like there's too much pressure to do something really fun, and I'm just not a fun-party-stay-up-all-night person. Yet I always feel like I have to try to do something.

Past New Year's Eve celebrations:

• (199-something) Babysitting the neighbor kids, watching the ball drop in Time Square at 10 pm, letting the kids bang pots, telling them it really was midnight and then making them go to bed.
• (2005) Tagging along with Jill's friends, buying hair supplies at Wal-Mart,playing musical chairs at some random guy's house, then sitting in the Smith's parking lot while Jill's friend drank a frappacino in the car.
• (2006) Playing card games at my grandma's house then watching my cousins chug entire 2 liter sprite bottles at midnight and throw them up 2 minutes later. (That was actually pretty fun.)
• (2007) Going to a movie and then playing Guitar Hero with Jill, Carly, and Carly's really obnoxious high-school aged friends. (I forced them out of my apartment at 12:01, while yelling "You kids stay off my lawn!")

So this year, Jill and I decided to embrace the lameness and do what we really wanted. I made a turkey dinner and we ate it while watching a Lord of the Rings extended edition marathon. We lasted to the end of disc 1. I'm stuffed, but there are a ton of left overs to look forward too.

I have a theory that has held up pretty well since 2000. Odd years are always much better for me than even years. 2008 wasn't so bad, just unremarkable. I am very much looking forward to 2009. Happy New Years!

Need some motivation?

I remember crying during way too many of these moments.



"They may take our lives, but they'll never take our Independence Day!" [Insert Free Willy epic jumping here.] The last 15 seconds are the best.

Better than CliffsNotes

Read Pride & Prejudice through facebook updates.

You've probably seen it before, but I thought it was cute. (I also liked Facebook Hamlet.)

The Ghost Lady

Yesterday, my supervisor at work confessed that she enjoys standing in other people's wedding family photos. She does this at Temple Square. When a big family is standing on the temple steps for a wedding photo, she stands along with them. Moves a little to the right when the photographer asks. Everyone just thinks she's on the other side of the family.

She's hoping to start a Mormon myth of the "ghost lady" in the temple picture. Years later (when the bride and groom actually know most people in their spouse's family), they'll both ponder at that wedding photo and wonder "who the heck is that?"

This "performance art" is an interesting object lesson on how Mormons tend to marry rather quickly. If a random stranger can spend a day at temple square inserting herself into family photos, I suppose that says something. Though it probably says more about that random stranger.

Is this woman in your wedding photo?

It's only 2:30?!!

TODAY IS TAKING FOREVER.

Because of etiquette

Jill and I went to Olive Garden last night and had the weirdest waiter, ever. And we eat out a lot.

When I ordered the soup and salad he said that "because of etiquette" he was required to serve the soup at the same time as Jill's meal. NOT A SECOND BEFORE! THAT WOULD BE CRUDE!

He referred to his other tables as his "new friends."

Waiter: "Would you like just a little bit of cheese on this salad or a mountain of cheese?"
Jill: "Uh... a mountain."
Waiter: "What type of mountain? Appalachian, Rocky, or Everest?"
Me: "Do you notice how our stomachs? See those rolls of fat? GIVE US THE EFFING CHEESE ALREADY!!!"

Another waiter came up to our waiter/friend and asked him a question as he was packing up our rocky mountain of cheese to take home. After the other waiter left, our waiter/friend then confided in us (well, Jill, I refused to make eye contact) that that had been the most awkward moment of his night. Talking to another waiter. I wanted to tell him that talking to our waiter had been the most awkward moments of our night! But I didn't. Because of etiquette.

During the course of that dinner, Jill and I said "etiquette" far too many times.

"Oh noes! I unwrapped my silverware before the food came to the table... what would etiquette say?"
"I want to make a napkin bib, but won't. Because of etiquette."
"What are you doing with that straw wrapper?! ETIQUETTE!!!"
"WON'T SOMEONE THINK OF THE ETIQUETTE!!!"

The word lost all meaning.

By Grapthar's Hammer, he looked just like this guy (with the red circle around his head):

Oh YEAH!!

I spent way too much time last night cruising youtube, watching clips from classic kid's tv. I've seen enough clips from Yo Gabba Gabba on The Soup to realize that kids tv today is still just as creepy, but nothing is ever as good as what you watched as a kid. It's fun, hilarious, and somewhat unsettling (in a good way) to rewatch the songs and images that had been burned into my developing brain over 20 years ago.

I kept watching this one over and over again. It's still just as entertaining now (if not more so) than it was when I was 5. Classic Sesame Street rules.



It that doesn't make you happy, nothing will.

A post about the weather

Earlier this fall, I blogged about how much I loved winter. How I loved it maybe even more than fall. Well Utah was suddenly tossed into winter yesterday, with a lake-effect snow storm. I was sitting at work, watching the heavy snowfall and getting incredibly depressed. The sky was covered with dark clouds, so the snow was the lightest thing in the gray sky. It seemed overwhelmingly bleak.

But then I went home, and the snow stopped and the sun came out just long enough to set. And then I remembered why I like winter. The sky was a swirl of pale yellow and pale blue. Even though the colors were muted, the sky was dramatically vibrant against the white. Everything was covered in snow, and it seemed like everything was holding perfectly still. It gives the outside a great quiet, calm feeling. On one street, I saw rows of trees completely covered in snow, except for one. The leaves were bright yellow, all of them still on the tree. When I walk around outside during the winter I feel like a little kid, sneaking around in the early morning while everyone else is sleeping.


(I didn't take this picture, but I did wish I'd brought my camera with me. Maybe next time.)

NoMoNaMos

In the course of one day, I have heard of three different goal-oriented month-long events. They all sound like a name or place from Star Wars.

NaNoWriMo: National Novel Writing Month
NaNoReMo: National Novel Reading Month
NaBloPoMo: National Blog Posting Month

I like that they each become less and less ambitious. My Star Wars name? Jamsa Mupro. (First 3 letters of First name, First 2 letters of Last name, First 2 letters of Mother's Maiden Name, First 3 letters of Birth City.)

I propose we add NoMoNaMos: No More National Months. It lasts all year. Or maybe I can keep getting even more ambition-less with NaBuSitMo: National Butt-Sitting Month. You must sit on your butt for an average of 15 hours a day, for an entire month. (Sleeping doesn't count!) When you go grocery shopping, use those disability carts. Don't cook, order pizza. Borrow your grandma's mobility scooter. 450 hours of butt-sitting! You can do this!

Why I skip church activities

With my sudden resurgence of church activity (actually going to things during the week) came a re-realization of why it's annoying to be single and LDS.

Last month's enrichment activity was a SPA night: There were mini-talks on "S"criptures, "P"rayer, and "A"tonement and then we all got our nails done and learned how to put on make-up. The activity was fine, I like bonding over eye shadow as much as anyone. The wives of the bishopric gave the mini-talks, and as usual with single women, treated us like primary kids. Actual question posed to a group of 20-something LDS women: "What book of scripture tells of Jesus's life?" We all looked at each other confused. Did she want a list of specific chapters? Did she mean His mortal life or resurrected life? The answer? "The bible." More than half of the women are returned missionaries! I think we're familiar with the basic premise of the bible. We all got a bag of gumballs to "chew" when we "chewse" to read the scriptures. That may entertain Ralph Wiggum, but we are supposedly adults. And I'd feel bad making fun of this if it wasn't for the rest of her lesson, but her testimony of the scriptures was solely based on how neat it was to read them to her kids, and to hear her kids read them to their kids. Ok, that's nice, but none of us have kids. Know your audience! Is it really so hard to find value in the scriptures for yourself? At least I got to try out some nice exfoliating cream.

So I find out from Jill that this month's enrichment activity is a corn maze. A corn maze and a swap meet. Not a swap meet where we bring all our crap and trade it, a swap meet where we "swap" guys with another ward and "meet" them. DURING ENRICHMENT. Jill is on the enrichment committee and I encouraged her to question the addition of guys to a Relief Society meeting. Apparently, the bishop has mandated that we have swap meets with enrichment every other month. We have FHE once a week, and several "ward activities" each year. Not to mention Munch 'n Mingle, Linger Longer, Break the Fast or whatever it's called. Oh and stake dances. Do we really need forced dating imposed on enrichment now too? Is there really so little value to women meeting together that they need to make the guys attend every other month? Why not just get rid of Relief Society all together! Or at least make the priesthood attend our Sunday meeting every other week. Just for singles of course. We can have meaningful adult interaction with other LDS women, but only once we're married.

I like single's wards. I like interacting with people my own age. But apparently, the only people I should be interacting with are men. I may switch to the regular local ward. Sure, they're mostly newly wed or nearly dead, but then church can just be church. Not thinly (or not at all) veiled opportunities to meet guys.

I'll sing it in your face

Saturday in New York:
My flight (with Carly) was mostly on time and we took the Airtrain and subway to our hotel with no problems. Jill was on a different flight that was redirected to a different airport where she had several adventures with the bus and pulling a DI suitcase about 30 blocks through Manhatten. We quickly discovered that while I came prepared with a plethora of customized maps, I have to walk around the same block several times before I figure out which way I'm facing. On the other hand, Jill can emerge from a subway, smell the air, and know instantly which way to go. I'm great with maps, as long as Jill is there as my compass. I guess I can't be the best at everything. We ate dinner at a place where you ordered a steak in a cafeteria line, they broil it while you stand there, and then pour a ladle full of butter and a ladle full of gravy on top. I had a $14 fillet minion (with corn on the cob and giant piece of bread). It was very tasty. We had planned on going to a comedy club, but we were all worn out from flying (kind of sad how sitting in a plane all day is exhausting) so we went back to the hotel. We thought of watching SNL (going all the way to New York to watch SNL from a hotel room), but instead, Jill and Carly made fun of me and my earplugs for a while and then we all fell asleep. (By the way: earplugs are awesome.)

Sunday in New York:
It rained so we decided not to go to the outdoor fall festival on Lexington Avenue. The rain actually seemed different. In Utah, it either drizzles or it pours. The rain in New York on Sunday looked light, slightly more than a drizzle, but the rain drops where so huge that we got soaked. We went to the Met in the morning. I wanted to walk around alone, so I ran away to a wing on the second floor and then meandered through as much as the museum as I could. Some random guy starting chatting with me about the difference between canvas and wood as a medium. I replied politely than ran away to the modern art wing. I really liked the Paul Klee room and rooms with baroque furniture. I met back with Jill and Carly at about noon and we headed to Times Square. We found the TKTS stand and bought 2 pm tickets to Spamalot. I had to make part of the Carly's ticket her birthday present in order to get her to go. She wasn't convinced that she'd enjoy a Broadway play, and didn't want to spend a ton of money on something she thought looked stupid. But we all loved it. It makes fun of Broadway in that great Monty Python way. And we got to see Clay Aiken. (Yay?) I was starting to get a migraine, so I went back to the hotel for a couple of hours while Jill and Carly shopped Times Square. In the evening, we went to a Chinese restaurant that I found online. I thought it was in Chinatown, but that area didn't look at all like Chinatown. Either way, the food was good. After that, we went to the Empire State building. It was about 10 pm. It was still raining lightly and the rain looked like snow going through the fog and lights around the building. Two British ladies in line next to us thought that the specs of white were pollution. They took a picture of it.

Monday in New York:
In the morning, we went to the Museum of Natural History. I really liked the dinosaurs and the giant whale. It's hard to imagine an animal that large. The biggest animal I've ever stood next to was an Asian elephant, and that was really only about twice my height. Looking up at that blue whale hanging from the ceiling was incredible. We planned on going to Central Park, but we wanted to eat lunch. So we walked right next the park as we headed back to the midtown area and ate at some place called "Food Store" or something equally generic. Maybe it was called "All About Food." Whatever it was, I wish they had one near my work. I'd never get bored with it. The food wasn't amazing, but they had so much to choose from: soup, salad, sandwiches, pasta, fruit, dessert, and several different hot dishes. I had chicken marsala and Jill and Carly had a cheeseburger. The marsala tasted more like ketchup than marsala sauce, but I was hungry so I thought it tasted great. Then we went across the street to FAO Schwartz, the giant toy store with the floor piano from Big. None of us were brave enough to go play it. But we all designed our own Barbies and tried on the Sorting Hat (nerds!). It's a really cute store. The guards are dressed as toy soldiers and one was skateboarding through the aisles. At about 2:30 we left to get in line for The Daily Show taping. It was really fun to see the show live, but they got it all in one take so it only lasted 20 minutes. After 2 hours of waiting in line. I kind of hoped they'd need to retape some segments for time or some other kind of behind-the-scenes production stuff. But they were way too professional and the taping went by really fast. We planned on going to a famous pizza place in Greenwich village afterwards, but we decided to eat at a pizza place in Times Square instead. It was right next to the CBS store where Jill and I bought Survivor buffs. Survivor buffs are a lot more fun than you might think. If Jill ever uploads those pictures to facebook, you'll see how much we all enjoyed them. At about 9 pm we went to ride the Staton Island Ferry. We saw the Statue of Liberty from the ferry and all acted like a bunch of drunken idiots. Luckily, there weren't many other people on the ferry at the time.

Tuesday morning in New York:
We were going to go the MOMA, but we didn't. We ate breakfast/lunch at the most expensive diner I've ever been to. I got french toast, Carly got pancakes, and Jill got a cheese omelet. It was $75 total. Geez! We ran around to a few more stores and bought I Heart NY shirts, pashminas, popcorn, and a Spiderman phantom of the opera mask. Then we had to head back to the airport to go home. So each day we did maybe half of what I had so meticulously planned, but it was still incredibly fun.

A week from today...

Two years ago, I had lists of all the new shows coming out. I evaluated them after the first episode and carefully selected what shows I would continue watching. The new fall tv season was exciting. This year? Meh. I watched Fringe because I happened to catch a promo right before the series premiere. I was unimpressed. Unless it was campy on purpose, I just didn't like it. "Let's make some LSD!" I kept switching back to Jeopardy because the show was getting progressively stupider. It's supposed to be the new X-Files, and I opted to watch a game show instead. I'm like an old lady. If there had been a Law & Order rerun, I probably would have watched that instead.

The only show I'm excited about is Survivor. And I know it's season 75 or something, but I still eagerly await every new season. How many has it been? Borneo, Australia, Africa, Marquesas, Thailand, Amazon, Pearl Islands, All Stars, Vanuatu, Palau, Guatemala, Panama, Cook Islands, Fiji, China, Half All Stars... 16 seasons. Yes, that was from memory. I can also list all of the winners. And the person they beat. My survivor knowledge may be irrelevant, but it is vast. So this is Survivor 17. And I don't care if this show does go on to season 75, I will watch it and I will love it. My first episode I watched was the final tribal council of season 1. I watched it on my first day at BYU, in my room in V Hall, on the tiny tv my parents bought me for high school graduation. Sue gave that crazy rats and snake speech, and the jerk won the million dollars. And I've been hooked ever since.

On notice

Fall is on notice. It's always been my favorite season, but it's about to be demoted. While I love the changing colors and the crispness in the air, I do not love the head full of mucus and the constant sniffling. My skull feels too heavy for my neck and the pressure swirls around inside like floating blobs in a lava lamp. I think I'm especially allergic to mold. Since I've moved to a basement apartment in an old building my allergies have intensified dramatically.

That leaves winter as my new favorite season. Even though I hate driving in the snow, my current situation requires very little driving, if any at all. Ever. I haven't driven my car since March. Jill drops me off on her way to work. If it's hot, I take the bus home. If it's tolerable, I walk.

I stopped driving after getting stuck last winter going up the icy avenues. When I decided to get back behind the wheel, I realized my battery had died. In order to drive my car again, I need to buy and install a new battery, get an auto repair shop to turn off the stupid check engine light (it seems my car has never forgiven me for losing two gas caps in one week), and renew the registration. That's a lot of effort, and effort is my kryptonite.

While I hate driving in the snow, I love walking in the snow. I get to wear sexy boots, I don't get all hot and sweaty, and hardly anyone else is out walking. Not like stupid spring and summer with everyone hogging the sidewalks with their dogs and strollers. I love that winter feels so quiet and still, even when it's snowing. Everything is muted, and it's very calming (as long as I don't have to think about driving in it). And best of all, the snow and ice rids the outside of whatever it is I'm so allergic to right now.

As the vampire sparkles...

So I've been reading the now "officially" leaked Midnight Sun. I enjoyed Twilight as a fun quick (if slightly disturbing) page-turner, but one book inside of Bella's head was enough for me. The premise of Midnight Sun as Twilight from Edward's pov was intriguing, and what else am I going to do all day? Work?! I got through about 50 pages of Edward describing Bella as a furious kitten and how "the sound of [his] name on her lips did strange things to [his] body" before giving up and reading cleolinda's funny recaps (part 1 and part 2) instead. I should not be reading these at work, they make me laugh too much.

Some moments that made me laugh (from the recaps):

[Quote from book]: A word I'd never said before in the presence of a lady slid between my clenched teeth. [end quote]

Given the "curse words" in the other four books, I'm going to assume the word is "dang."

**

I don't know where Carlisle is, but he's probably off being compassionate somewhere.

**

It's kind of like a sparkly teenage version of "Bad Blood." "All I had for breakfast this morning was half a mountain lion with cream cheese, and it wasn't even real cream cheese, it was LIGHT cream cheese! I DO IT ALL FOR YOU, BELLA!"

If you feel compelled to be updated on the wide world of sparkling vampires, but find it difficult to stomach Twilight's unique "outrageous flavor," I highly recommend reading the recaps linked above. They're available for all of the books. Warning: If you do read the recaps, they have real curse words. Not just the mere mentioning of curse words too delicate for our lady brains.

The Day I Wrote in my Blog

I watched Mad Men last night and really liked one of the lines. Four people snuck into their boss's unlocked office to look at his new painting. (It was a Rothko.) Ken, in the elevator afterwards, said: "I could write a story about this: The Day We Looked at the Painting."

It would be a cool story too. It was a neat little scene: suspenseful, funny, and introspective. I forget sometimes that that's all short stories need to be, just an interesting moment. If you watched the episode, you'd realize that while Ken's story would be interesting, it would be completely different from the story Sal would write. Ken's story could be incredibly well written, and expertly capture all of the emotion, but be totally unaware of how enormously different and significant the moment was for Sal.

When I'm in a car on the freeway, I'll sometimes try to catch a quick glimpse inside the other cars driving along side me. I've thought before that there are entire universes existing inside each car, that I am completely unaware of, but driving right next to. That's what that scene in Mad Men reminded of. There were three people in the elevator (one took the stairs down out of fear of being caught). They all just had just done the exact same thing, but each had a vastly different experience.

Literary Love

Jill told me she has a crush on a fictional character. Agent Pendergast, from the Relic series. I've never read those books, but according to wikipedia, he sounds quite crush worthy, especially for an anthropology major like Jill. We toyed with the idea of creating a "Literary Crush" application for facebook. (Unfortunately, neither us know how to code, so that won't be happening.) But who isn't in love with someone fictional? There's Mr. Darcy, Aragorn, Mr. Rochester, and well, I guess Edward Cullen (for some *cough* crazy *cough* people). I had the hugest crush on The Chronicles of Prydain's Taran in 6th grade. When I first read Fahrenheit 451, I definitely like liked Guy Montag. Which literary hero or heroine have you been in love with?

Why are you so quiet?

I'm quiet, and an introvert. Notable times when people have tried to "cure" me of that:

1. U.S History class, 8th grade. I had just moved to a new school. It was the first day, 5th period. The boy assigned to the desk behind me (let's call him Ted) was the obvious class clown. His favorite prop? The quiet shy girl that sat in front of him. Ted even wrote a song about me (and sang it outloud during class). It was actually quite tender and went something like, "You need to let your feelings out..." It would fit in with any of Kermit the Frog's biggest hits.

2. Literary magazine staff, junior year of high school. The class of about 12 was a mixed bag of crazy drama students and AP English nerds. A kid in the class (let's call him Fred) occasionally tried to "encourage" me to be more expressive. One day, while working on a writing prompt, Fred stood up, walked over to me, and pointed his forefinger right at my forehead. He didn't say anything, he just stood silently over my desk pointing straight at me. If he was sure I'd be forced to stop being so quiet and respond, he greatly underestimated my introversion. I continued writing as if he was invisible. It became some sort of perverted staring contest. Eventually he gave up and sat back down. I won.

3. Working at the library during sophomore through senior year of college. One of the supervisors (let's call him Ned) thought it his duty to save me from my shyness. He didn't compose songs or perform awkward demonstrations. He just asked, at least once a week, some version of "Why are you so quiet?" I'd have loved to answer, "Why are you so loud?" or maybe "Why are you so tall?" but I didn't. I shrugged and mumbled something.

I get that question, "Why are you so quiet?" or variations on that question all the time. I'm never sure what to say besides the shrug and mumble, but I found this article today that lets me know at least I'm not alone. It's called Caring for Your Introvert. I may forward it (quietly, over email) to the next Jen, Ben, or Gwen that tries to solve or cure my introversion.

It isn't a disease or personality flaw. I don't secretly hate you. On any given work day, I might be staring at my keyboard, gazing out the window, or looking at nothing. I'm usually lost in thought or deep in focus, but I don't need rescuing. No nothing is wrong with me, and yes I'm okay. Now leave me alone. :)

The Lion Dream

Occasionally, I have incredibly intense dreams. They are extremely different from normal dreams with mixed up combinations of people from work, things I saw that day, or images of books I've just read. When I wake up from these intense dreams, my muscles are tense, as if I had been straining them all night. And all the sensations I experience while dreaming feel very real. I've actually looked into this a little and think some of these dreams might be experiences of mild hypnagogia, or sleep paralysis. They're never disruptive enough to do anything about them medically, but they do fascinate me. They don't happen often, but I'd like to keep a record of as many of them as I can.

I wrote the details to this dream on 9/26/2006 as a comment on a friend's blog. I'd had the dream recently, but I don't remember how recently.

Once I dreamt I was following a lion around an empty house into a closet with a light bulb that didn't work. I didn't know it didn't work until I closed the door. I couldn't see the lion anymore, but it told me to kneel in the corner in the dark and remain silent and still.

I heard a man try and get into the closet. The lion was gone, but I remembered (even though it never really told me) that I wasn't supposed to look at the door. The man started to chop the door down and I bent over, still kneeling. Like you do during a tornado drill.

It seemed like I was shrinking away from the door, or the door was shrinking away from me. The floor became dirt and suddenly my head was twisted completely backwards facing up towards the ceiling, instead of tucking in towards my chest. It was really weird.

Suddenly the chopping noise was gone and I didn't know where I was. I heard water dripping into a bowl. I felt really heavy, like I was full of water. I knew I wasn't supposed to move, because the lion told me not to, but I really wanted to move just a little bit to get some sense of my surroundings. I remembered going into the closet, but I couldn't even figure out how I was positioned--if I was still kneeling. I couldn't even tell if it was light or dark, though it seemed dark. All I felt was heavy and packed in tight.

I was still being...I guess the word would be "obedient" to the lion's orders to not move, so I tried to remember the sequence of events that led up to this point, rather than feel around to figure out how I got where I was. I started to panic a little when I realized that the last thing I remembered was chopping. So I moved a tiny bit. I instantly felt everything around me. My lungs were filled with dirt, which was why I was so heavy. My neck had been twisted completely around and my jaw broken. My mouth was open and water was dripping into it. I realized at this moment that the man had gotten into the closet, killed me, and buried me near the house. I didn't remember being murdered, though. I knew I hadn't died because I was with the lion who had somehow gone into my body and had been living inside my chest. When I started to breathe, the lion came out of my mouth, pulling me out of the ground, clearing the dirt from my lungs, and twisting my head around back to normal all at the same time.

Whenever I have these weird dreams, I usually have a moment where I fake wake-up and it was at that point that I thought I woke up. I got my Mormon imagery all mixed up with lion imagery and decided I needed to go on a mission and was rejuvenated and so excited about life. I was ecstatic, wanting to run around and bear my testimony of the truthfulness of the lion. Then my alarm went off and I woke up for real. When I realized it had all been one of my intense dreams, I was a little disappointed that my "spiritual experience" was so...creepy. And fake. And cliche. And so centered around the fact that I had recently seen the Narnia movie and that my bathroom ceiling had been dripping while I was asleep.

Public Humiliation at Church

I was reading old threads at this website, and have read several posts in the Public Humiliation at Church thread. It's very entertaining, and I wanted to share my story. That thread is several years old, so sharing on my blog seemed more appropriate. (I wouldn't want to humiliate myself.)

I was in Primary, and it was Easter Sunday. I was still in Junior primary, but in the oldest class. I specifically remember sitting in the back row. The sharing time lesson was on the crucifixion, and as a visual aide, the primary president had brought in cups of vinegar. There were six plastic cups on a tray, and we were supposed to pass them around, smell them, and decide if we would want to drink it.

But I'd been day dreaming (as usual) and didn't hear the set-up. All I noticed was that for some reason, they were passing out drinks! And that I was suddenly really thirsty. I remember thinking it was so unfair that the primary leader only put six cups on the tray. Six! There were around 30 kids in there, and I was in the back row! Luckily, it seemed like no one else was thirsty. Not even Jill and Carly, and I knew they'd never pass up free water. They'd take the tray, smell the water, and shake their head "no thank you." I was suspicious, but mostly anxious that all of the water would be gone before I could have any. I watched as the tray came closer, giddy that no one had taken any of the water. So it comes to me. I lean over the cup as if I'm smelling it (I had noticed everyone else doing that, and didn't want to be different), and nod "yes." Apparently my desire to be the same as everyone else was not overruled by my thirstiness. I go to drink it, and my teacher reaches over and grabs it away from me. I sit through the rest of primary hurt and confused. And a little thirsty.