It's gettin' kinda hard to think actual human thoughts around all these lyrics spanning from Rio to Prince of Egypt to Into the Woods. Not into music? We just basically went salsa to ballad to CRAZY-JUNK-NO-ONE-UNDERSTANDS.
Dear Sondheim,
You're a genius. But I hate you.
Exercising is my friend.
There's that period after working out when apparently you should keep moving but only a bit so as to "cool down" and all I really wanna do is collapse face-first into the dry, crusty dirt...but I don't. I walk around in circles trying to inhale as many water molecules as I can. And THEN there's the part that baffles me. I don't sweat much...at all. While that's awesome in that I don't get lovely conspicuous sweatspots/stains, it also means my natural cooling system is dysfunctional. But once I'm done exercising and I sit down (read: flop on the kitchen tile) then all of a sudden I'm all sticky and moist, like a little kids hands with a summer popsicle. It's unpleasant and satisfying at the same time. Cuz then I finally feel like I actually accomplished any fat-burning.
"Sweat is fat crying" well, my fat has some serious emotional blocking issues and I just need it to go to a therapist or something. Let it out, ya darn flab!!
Boo and a half.
I think I made up a salad. It's really good and I keep eating it but when I list the ingredients it doesn't sound like it should taste good....I chop up some romaine and celery and a whole small apple. Toss that with roasted sunflower seeds and bacon bits and then drizzle this "Sweet and Spicy" light dressing on top (courtesy of Wishbone). Mostly, I guess I didn't expect the sauce to taste good with it. But it's kind of excellent. And it gets me away from Ranch, aka the diabolical achilles heel of my existence.
I hate talking on the phone with people. Even if I know 'em well. Making it the pizza guy just throws me into a panic and I end up trying to order rocks with nacho cheese sauce. But at this moment I'm avoiding calling the florist because I'm afraid she's gonna ask what kind of flowers I want and I'll stammer something unintelligible and they'll give me tumbleweeds tied with goat hair.
I'm really antsy. I wanna start moving my stuff into the apartment and I wanna scrub down every INCH of that place now that it has [FINALLY] been cleared out and freed of others' belongings. But silly boy-o is having his bachelor party today, so I can't even talk to the bloke let alone invade the premises. Blarg. Mostly I want to make that apartment into a home. Our home. I wanna fix it all up and keep it tidy (mostly) and cook little dinners. I desperately want to have my go at being a good wifey. And it's just so close! On wednesday I meet with the Stake President (my church official) to finalize my temple recommend. I got my confirmation letter on my appointment to get my endowments for tuesday the 6th a couple nights ago and I teared up and got real close to legit crying because I'm just so excited and happy and glad Mark and I are doing this the way we believe is right. The way I've wanted to get married since I knew what that even meant. Woot for achieving goals.
"woah-woah, when my baby! when my baby smiles at me I go to Rio! de Janeiro!"
Ok. There. I blogged. TA-DAHH!!
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