Body Language. A Moo Point.

I feel as though I may be a mute when it comes to speaking the body language. Communicating via body language (for me) apparently comes through about as clear as me actually trying to convey a point using my words.

"You Haven't.."

.."aged a bit!"

Ran into some of the nice guys from high school last night. Small talk, small talk, small talk...then the bomb..."You haven't aged a bit," one of them said to me.

I'm twenty-four. He is going to be pretty disappointed when we show up at the ten year reunion and I have aged a little. Then what are we gonna have to talk about?

"So what DO you look for in a man?"

Question of the decade. One of these questions you've thought about over and over - maybe even made lists about over the course of your lifetime. I certainly have.

But. When asked said question this past weekend - I blurted out the same non-me-specific mumbo jumbo that a person who hasn't thought about this question would say. I was so internally frustrated for not communicating these points very well that it was hard for me to proceed into new topics of conversation. I wanted to keep coming back to said topic with eloquent and personalized desires - but it's just not as meaningful if you don't say it when the opportunity arises. Kind of like a late come back - impotent.

Lame really.

Speaking of lame...did I ever tell you guys (hi mom) about the time I made it into the local newspaper? Well I did :

Instead of L-A-Y-N-E, they printed my name as L-A-Y-M-E. Layme. Layme=lame. It was a Freudian slip - because it was lame that I was dressed up as a reindeer-hobo-lounge singer. BUT. That's certainly not my name.

It's just my style.

Back to the list and the looking for in a man bit - that's for me to know and for you to be patient enough to drag out of me.

And you, nameless man of the future? What do you look for in a woman?

Does it have anything to do with jingle bell antlers?

"That's It - Hunny I Quit."

Dear Adele,

A-flippin-dele - you're ah-mazing. It's like you've got 40,000,000 vocal chords that do anything they want all at the same time. Teach me your smokey ways.

Love,

Happy Memorial Day, Sugar.

Abducted for breakfast, accompanied for reading, and afforded a swim in the pool on a hot day. Then there was the chicken and noodles. You can't go wrong with noodles.

A big thanks to the veterans today. Not just good for a day off - I appreciate you.

I Shall Call Him...

...McHunky.

Please Don't Make Me Regret This, Taylor.

Tonight I stuck up for Taylor Swift. Is she all together? No. Does she write songs that generally only a 12-17 year old girl can relate to? Yes.

But. She's doing it, you know? She is playing music, on tour - selling out arenas. People are singing her songs.

I think she has potential. I don't care who knows it.

Go GET It, Girl.

You wanna know how to win friends and influence people?

My little buddy, Curly, was trotting about the grocery store today and noticed an ok looking guy going out of his way to stare at her. She said he'd walk past her, then he'd turn around and give her the once over. Clearly - he either thought she was a celebrity or just ridiculouslygoodlooking.

So after this little dance happened two or three times, Curly excused herself from her shopping companion, tapped ol gawky on the shoulder, handed him her business card and said, "Hi. It's really nice to meet you." Apparently - the look on his face was priceless.

That right there is called taking control of the situation.

"In All the World, You'll Never Find..."

...a better apology than singing a love song to the one you pissed off the worst.

...if you are as smoking hot as George.

Round My Hometown

I sure do love this place I live. I took a walk up and down one of my favorite streets tonight. It's lined with these amazing houses. I've only ever driven past them, so to slow it way down and take it all in was kind of fun.

On the way back I stole some lilacs and a couple iris. The lilacs smell like a million dollars and it looks like someone picked me flowers.

Thanks, Me.

You're welcome.

Sing Me Home, Mat Kearney.

Breathe in, breathe out.

I just got back from a fabulous little road trip to Utah. Some of the girls and I went for a concert (Mat Kearney and Keane).

I adore Mat Kearney. He sings the songs that "doctors make out to" - an obvious Grey's Anatomy reference for anyone who is a huge fan of the show. He posted a video blog from his stop in Salt Lake City. Check it:

We were standing on those very steps! In that very hall! It was only years ago when he put his arm around me and told me that he loved me and that if it weren't for the tour, he would stay with me forever.

Except for that didn't happen and he didn't say that. I love him still and am so glad I got to see him in concert again!

Good Book in the Left Hand and a Rollin Pin in the Right.

Oh the silly things we do when we are young. Third grade young. For grandparents day, we always did some sort of talent show at school. For my special moment, I chose to sing a little number - a ridiculously age-inappropriate Vince Gill song.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HeMrn_NWoc4

I know. Mom, where were you when I was picking out songs? At any rate...the moment lives on in glory, even now. I was on the phone with my aunt in California. Her daughter lives here and whilst said daughter was having her nails done, she overheard a couple women say they were from Garden Valley (the location of my debut). Cousin asked the ladies if they knew of my family. They said "Yes, specifically the little girl (me). She performed in a talent show a long time ago and when she was getting ready to start, she said 'hit it!' We've been waiting for her to pop up on the big screen or something."

Hit it? I said hit it. The best part of that is that I was running the cassett player. Note to self: Self, not cool to say 'hit it' if you're your own maiestro.

At any rate, I need not search any further for fame - it has already come. They're talking about me in nail salons all over Ada and Boise County.

Now THIS is Customer Service.

The stylist and I opted for some coffee and...some knitting (nothing says cool like crafting in public) this evening.

We sent our lattes back once because...well...they were sugar free. No - thank you for the kind, subtle suggestion, but no. I'll take the sugar and make it a large. Mmmmk, pumpkin?

ANYWAY. Our dear barista - we'll call him Martha - came out with our round-two coffees, he noticed our knitting endeavor and said, "Whatcha workin' on?" "Uhhh, just nothing," was my reply and the Stylist informed him, "I'm just learning." He observed her casting technique and said, "You know, there is an easier way to do that." He then took the needles out of her hands and showed her a new (way more complicated...we didn't let on that we thought so...but for your information) method. She watched and "mmhmm"ed.

I captured the moment with my phone. I feel as though he served as an example of customer service at it's finest. "Sure, send back the latte you ordered. We'll make you another for free, bring it out to you and, shoot, is that a so-and-so stitch? Here's a better way. Thanks for choosing Starbucks."

"Never...

...underestimate the power of your presence." - Rob Bell.

When you have no words left to say and there are no actions left to be taken - don't underestimate the power

Darned Paparazzi

If I were ever a celebrity, the slow-for-news press would have a hay day following me around. I'm a giant ball of embarrassing photo ops. I've talked with the Producer about this - she intends to chew funny when she becomes famous, just to give people something to talk about. I feel like some celebrities are just looking to throw the paparazzi a bone. Like LeAnn:

Or (to protect his legacy - I will anono-mize his name) _ono of _2:

While I'm still on this side of the camera, I've decided to practice my own paparazzo skills. Just yesterday, I caught the Diva (Sheddy McShedsAlot) in the most unflattering of angles and am consequently publishing her moment for the world (all three of you ((HIGH FIVE))) to see:

So concerned with her personal hygiene, she paid no matter to vanity. "Doh!"

It IS A Broken Road Ain't It, Mama's Boy?

Mama's Boy ruined Rascal Flatts for me for the rest of my days. The same one that kind of ruined the word wife. Brief recap: Ex comes out of the five year old woodwork about a month ago and says, "I think about you a lot - thinkin you're everything I'd want in a wife." Say WHAT? All said over a text message, mind you. We broke up via text message. Come on.

It obviously didn't go anywhere. I'm lookin' for a love that would last even if I lost both my thumbs.

However. The boy bounces back fast. Found himself a new squeeze (/"serious relationship") two weeks later. Hope she has unlimited text messaging.

Warning. Vent. Cuss. Cuss (Not really).

My mind is a kaleidescope at the moment. The last two and a half hours were bizarre. Recap? Ok, but only because you asked.

I went to the grocery store. Bizarre enough. Gross. I was really into it tonight - thinking that if I knocked it out tonight I wouldn't have to go for another month. Done with my twelve bags of groceries. Loaded up in the back of the truck and zipped home.

The drive was fun and even included truck dancing when "Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy" played on the radio. Happy as a clam pre-bake, parked in a comfortable spot right outside my apartment. I had the rest of the evening planned: cheese nips, painting project and my Elvis pandora station.

Fast forward one minute - twelve bags of groceries on my arms (I'm a one-trip Trixie - can't HANDLE going back and forth to the truck) when I realize that when I was at my parents earlier today, I had grabbed THEIR keys that has my spare and NOT my house keys on it before I hit the grocery store. Cuss.

Drive back to Ma and Pa's - switch keys, walk out the front door and there is a fluffy white puppy on the doorstep followed by a curly, equally fluffy, little dog. What do you do with two strange dogs at 10:30 at night? You INSIST they stay in your parent's backyard until the morning and construct a "Found" yard sign.

Finally wind up back in my neck of the woods and there was not a normal parking spot to be found - drove about the block twice and settled for across the street parking. Cuss. Whatever. Load up twelve bags of groceries for the second time and loaf up to my apartment.

Get to my door, cat tries to escape. Cat scratches my arm whilst trying to get her out of the way. Try to open my kitchen cabinet - it's stuck shut. Won't open. Cuss. Cuss. Cuuuuuuuussss. Unpack the groceries (as best I could minus one of my cabinets) and grab the new globe for the ceiling fan. Doesn't fit. Cuss.

My conclusion at the end of the evening? It's a man's fault. All of it. I don't even have a specific one to blame - but even so, nameless man of the future, tonight I am MAD at you for not being here. I assume that the evening would have gone as planned if you were here. I'm TIRED of lugging my own groceries, guessing at how big the stupid globe is for the ceiling fan, sticky cabinets, etc., etc., ETC.

Hmmmph.