Shelli Armstrong's Blog, page 9
February 8, 2013
February 6, 2013
Delivery Guy
I've mentioned on this blog before that I've crushed on the Les Olson delivery guy before; and most people that follow me on Facebook have read the comments about when he drops by and makes my day by just letting me look at him and smile retardedly until he leaves.
There has been a lot of discussion about flirting with him (here) and not knowing how to take advantage of the 35 seconds I have to sign the paper before he leaves.
In December, when my work decided that we were doing our Christmas dinner, I was told that I needed to "find my Prince Charming" to invite as my date. (The last time we had a Christmas party, I invited a roommate of my friend and have not talked to him since...) I racked my brains with who to invite.
I had an offer of an engaged friend to come with me. I had a friend offer her husband. And then there's the group of guys that I hang out with on a regular basis, and I decided, that would be cheating. I wanted to bring a date. Not just a friend. So who?
A mention of it at the office had the guys suggesting a few guys. One of them being the Les Olson guy. I thought about it and then had a mini panic attack. Why shouldn't I ask him? But how should I ask him? What ensued was a lot of orders for toner (which were actually legit) and plotting and plots being foiled... There was talk about luring him back to the supply closet. There were WHOLE CONVERSATIONS planned in my head.
In the end, someone always managed to come down the stairs, ruining my "game" (yeah right, like I have game...) and a result of nothing.
And then "Santa" came to the office early, bearing the delivery guy's phone number on a post-it.
I debated for a whole day as to whether or not I should use the number. I did not know the precise tactics by which it was procured, and that made me worried. All the guys bet against me. No one thought I would actually call, but they asked on and off for the rest of the day. I polled all my friends. I had mini-panic attacks. I took the number home that night and didn't do anything with it.
Then, I decided, "What the heck." And on my way to work the next day, I called.
The guys all at work said that they were proud of me. I think they were shocked. Honestly, after listening to what my girl friends had to say (they all claimed that they would not call), I decided that I was proud of myself. The delivery guy acted as though he was interested until I gave him the date and he said he would be out of town.
I don't know if that was an excuse, the truth, or whatever. I did it. And I did it without actually having a panic attack and without feeling dashed to pieces when it didn't end up as a success. It wasn't that hard after all.
We've had one order of toner since then, and the delivery guy didn't come.
That's not really a good sign. Was he sick that day? Out of town? Did he have his whole route changed because of me? It's hard to know. I hope not, because that would be really dumb. Even though he turned me down, I am not embarrassed to interact with him (remember how he's in my office for 35 seconds per delivery?), so if he's embarrassed or what, afraid I'm going to jump him? then that's stupid.
I ended up finding a date to take to the Christmas party. That was after making a foolish misjudgment and asking someone I shouldn't have, then calling and persuading him to admit that he'd probably stand me up and deciding to call the whole thing off. I found my date randomly, and it ended up being a really good night.
Of course, if this follows tradition, I will likely never talk to him again.
Whatever.
There has been a lot of discussion about flirting with him (here) and not knowing how to take advantage of the 35 seconds I have to sign the paper before he leaves.
In December, when my work decided that we were doing our Christmas dinner, I was told that I needed to "find my Prince Charming" to invite as my date. (The last time we had a Christmas party, I invited a roommate of my friend and have not talked to him since...) I racked my brains with who to invite.
I had an offer of an engaged friend to come with me. I had a friend offer her husband. And then there's the group of guys that I hang out with on a regular basis, and I decided, that would be cheating. I wanted to bring a date. Not just a friend. So who?
A mention of it at the office had the guys suggesting a few guys. One of them being the Les Olson guy. I thought about it and then had a mini panic attack. Why shouldn't I ask him? But how should I ask him? What ensued was a lot of orders for toner (which were actually legit) and plotting and plots being foiled... There was talk about luring him back to the supply closet. There were WHOLE CONVERSATIONS planned in my head.
In the end, someone always managed to come down the stairs, ruining my "game" (yeah right, like I have game...) and a result of nothing.
And then "Santa" came to the office early, bearing the delivery guy's phone number on a post-it.
I debated for a whole day as to whether or not I should use the number. I did not know the precise tactics by which it was procured, and that made me worried. All the guys bet against me. No one thought I would actually call, but they asked on and off for the rest of the day. I polled all my friends. I had mini-panic attacks. I took the number home that night and didn't do anything with it.
Then, I decided, "What the heck." And on my way to work the next day, I called.
The guys all at work said that they were proud of me. I think they were shocked. Honestly, after listening to what my girl friends had to say (they all claimed that they would not call), I decided that I was proud of myself. The delivery guy acted as though he was interested until I gave him the date and he said he would be out of town.
I don't know if that was an excuse, the truth, or whatever. I did it. And I did it without actually having a panic attack and without feeling dashed to pieces when it didn't end up as a success. It wasn't that hard after all.
We've had one order of toner since then, and the delivery guy didn't come.
That's not really a good sign. Was he sick that day? Out of town? Did he have his whole route changed because of me? It's hard to know. I hope not, because that would be really dumb. Even though he turned me down, I am not embarrassed to interact with him (remember how he's in my office for 35 seconds per delivery?), so if he's embarrassed or what, afraid I'm going to jump him? then that's stupid.
I ended up finding a date to take to the Christmas party. That was after making a foolish misjudgment and asking someone I shouldn't have, then calling and persuading him to admit that he'd probably stand me up and deciding to call the whole thing off. I found my date randomly, and it ended up being a really good night.
Of course, if this follows tradition, I will likely never talk to him again.
Whatever.
January 9, 2013
NEVER FORGET
Thanks for the constant reminder, iPledge! I can't wait for my next pregnancy test.
December 23, 2012
I've all but quit blogging.I can't really explain why. It...
I've all but quit blogging.
I can't really explain why. It seems like I do nothing, and yet I'm hardly home, and I have not responsibilities but I'm always busy.
I've all but quit sleeping too.
I have friends that suffer from real insomnia, and that's not what this is. I can't really explain it, but it's definitely gotten worse over the past few months. I avoid going to bed. Whether it's by reading or watching hours of Hulu.com, staying well past my welcome at friends' houses, or cleaning the bathroom; I just dread going to bed before I'm stumbling sleep-drunk into my bed.
If I'm so exhausted that I already am having trouble keeping my eyes open, then I don't have to think, I don't have to make excuses or reassurances to myself. The song lyric, "I can't take this bed getting any colder," keeps running through my mind on repeat. And so I keep myself at the brink of exhaustion, because I'm avoiding a bed that I have to warm up all by myself. No one is waiting for me to come home. No one is waiting for me to come to bed. And I hate it.
The trouble with being tired all the time is...well, there are lots of problems. But the main one is, that my immune system breaks down if I am not getting adequate sleep. So when I started fighting against a head cold last week, I should have made an effort to get rest. Instead, I pushed myself to stay awake until 2-3 a.m., and in return, managed to make myself even more sick.
For the record, a peppermint bath is not a great idea.
Peppermint is a cooling sensation. Baths are supposed to be piping hot. The mixture of the two is the most strange, uncomfortable feeling. I probably could have boiled my skin right off my body without knowing it, because my skin felt as though it were freezing instead. I quickly gave that up, and spent the remainder of the day in my lonely bed.
I turned 27 this year, and while my lack of blog post may show my lack of enthusiasm for the whole idea of it, it should not be interpreted to mean that I am lacking in friends that made an effort to make me feel special on my birthday. So, I know I'm loved, and it's always good to be reminded.
The last month or so has been fairly difficult on my family. Times like these, I wish I lived closer. I'm not sure what I think my presence would accomplish. I just want to be a support and a strength to my parents and to my siblings. Not being there has felt selfish, because I don't have to live with some of the turmoil that has gone on. I don't have to think about everything that is staring them all in the face. I feel very guilty because I can turn my concern and worries on and off and they can't.
I can't really explain why. It seems like I do nothing, and yet I'm hardly home, and I have not responsibilities but I'm always busy.
I've all but quit sleeping too.
I have friends that suffer from real insomnia, and that's not what this is. I can't really explain it, but it's definitely gotten worse over the past few months. I avoid going to bed. Whether it's by reading or watching hours of Hulu.com, staying well past my welcome at friends' houses, or cleaning the bathroom; I just dread going to bed before I'm stumbling sleep-drunk into my bed.
If I'm so exhausted that I already am having trouble keeping my eyes open, then I don't have to think, I don't have to make excuses or reassurances to myself. The song lyric, "I can't take this bed getting any colder," keeps running through my mind on repeat. And so I keep myself at the brink of exhaustion, because I'm avoiding a bed that I have to warm up all by myself. No one is waiting for me to come home. No one is waiting for me to come to bed. And I hate it.
The trouble with being tired all the time is...well, there are lots of problems. But the main one is, that my immune system breaks down if I am not getting adequate sleep. So when I started fighting against a head cold last week, I should have made an effort to get rest. Instead, I pushed myself to stay awake until 2-3 a.m., and in return, managed to make myself even more sick.
For the record, a peppermint bath is not a great idea.
Peppermint is a cooling sensation. Baths are supposed to be piping hot. The mixture of the two is the most strange, uncomfortable feeling. I probably could have boiled my skin right off my body without knowing it, because my skin felt as though it were freezing instead. I quickly gave that up, and spent the remainder of the day in my lonely bed.
I turned 27 this year, and while my lack of blog post may show my lack of enthusiasm for the whole idea of it, it should not be interpreted to mean that I am lacking in friends that made an effort to make me feel special on my birthday. So, I know I'm loved, and it's always good to be reminded.
The last month or so has been fairly difficult on my family. Times like these, I wish I lived closer. I'm not sure what I think my presence would accomplish. I just want to be a support and a strength to my parents and to my siblings. Not being there has felt selfish, because I don't have to live with some of the turmoil that has gone on. I don't have to think about everything that is staring them all in the face. I feel very guilty because I can turn my concern and worries on and off and they can't.
December 17, 2012
Pistol
I can't get enough of this song. I first heard it at my dear Holly's, wedding, in August. It was the song that she and her husband, Easton, chose for their wedding dance. Holly didn't want to dance, and we bullied her into it. I'm glad that we did. I think she was glad that we did too.
I didn't think to look it up until a couple of weeks ago, and now I just listen to it on repeat.
Good choice, Holly and Easton. Good choice.
November 29, 2012
BLUE JEANS & BBQ
Alison finished singing the last bars of the song blaring on the radio before she switched off the ignition. “Was that what I think it was?” asked Megan, Alison’s neighbor and current couch landlord. “Were you just singing Country music?” “No! I don’t like--” Alison stopped. How many times had she caught herself listening to Country in the past weeks? She had always sworn she hated it. She laughed. “Fine, you’re right.” She jumped out of her Jeep. “I officially do not dislike Country. In fact…” She stopped at the sight of Chris Turner, the contractor running the renovations on her condo, walking towards them. “Your sudden interest in Country music doesn’t have anything to do with the cowboy coming our way, now does it?” Megan giggled. Alison swallowed before admitting, “It might.” Alison had gotten to know her contractor as her renovations had progressed. Chris was efficient. Honest. Attractive. Single. She hadn’t once regretted hiring him. He was also kind, generous and good-humored. “Ask him out.” “No.” “Why not?” “Because… technically, I’m his boss. And I don’t want to blur the lines before he finishes tiling my bathroom.” “Coward,” Megan said under her breath. Alison took a deep breath. She wanted to maintain a level of professionalism, even if her heart beat at irregular paces whenever he was near. “Are you sick of her crashing on your couch yet?” he asked Megan as he got closer.“Oh yes, tell me her place is done!” Megan joked.“She’s that bad?”“Country. She swore to me she hated it when I agreed to let her stay at my place, but that’s all she’s been listening to for weeks!”He laughed, tucking his thumbs through the belt loops of his jeans.Alison tried to regain control of the conversation. “Are we near the end?” she said. “Please give me some good news. I’m ready to sleep in my own bed.”“Ah. Yes. I have the guys finishing the subway tiles in the bathroom today. They’re looking great. It’s been a few days since you stopped by. Maybe you could come take a look?”“You’re just fishing for compliments. I’ve seen your work; I know it’s going to look amazing. That’s why I hired you!”He grinned, obviously pleased with her faith in his work.“You’ve already finished tiling?” Megan asked, waggling her eyebrows at Alison. “It sounds like we need to celebrate. Dinner?”“Megan, please, he’s too busy to eat your tofu and egg whites.” Chris pulled a face. “I take it you’re a carnivore?” Megan laughed. “Meat and potatoes kind of guy,” he admitted. “Alison is sort of a grilling master,” Megan suggested. “I’m sure we could do steaks. I’m not strictly vegetarian.” “I’m sure he–“ “—that’d be great,” Chris said. “Unless it seems unprofessional...” “No. No! Of course not; it’s fine. Is six o’ clock a good time?” “I’ll have the guys clean up a little early.” “Great.” “Great,” he agreed. He smiled and then sauntered back to the job site, whistling the country song Alison had been singing. Alison was struggling with excitement and dread, she cast a look over to Megan who smiled benignly. “I guess we should pick up some steaks.” “What are you thinking? You know we don’t grill!” Proof of Alison’s last statement was pouring out of the inherited grill when Chris arrived. “Looks like you’ve got a good start,” he said, trying not to laugh at the smoke. “You haven’t put all the steaks on have you?” “Is chicken supposed to be this greenish-gray color?” Alison asked, coming in from the patio. “Oh! Chris! Hi.” Alison looked mortified and Chris gave in to a chuckle. “You’re not really a grill master, are you?” His eyes sparkled as he headed out to inspect the grill. “The coals aren’t even ready. They’re still black.” “Oh…oops,” Alison giggled. “No wonder the chicken’s still raw.” “Don’t worry, we’ll let you cook the steaks,” Megan said. “And while you’re doing that, I’m going to run to that bakery and get dessert.” “Domestic goddesses, the both of you,” he commented. Alison grinned. “You were under the impression we actually knew how to cook? There’s a reason that Megan sticks to tofu.”“I see. And what exactly are you planning on doing with those updated appliances I just installed?”She shrugged, “Maybe I’ll take a class.”A slow grin spread across Chris’ face. “I’ll teach you,” he said as he took a step towards her. “I’m actually a very good cook.” Chris reached out a hand to Alison. “I’d be happy to start that first lesson right now.”Alison took Chris’ hand as he led her to the patio. “You build things and you cook? You are the best of Country, come to life.”rejected by Woman's World Magazine, November 2012
November 20, 2012
I Give Up
My track record is just getting worse and worse, so I'm quitting. I am never going to do it again, so don't ask! I'm done making food for people.
Because, I'm not really that bad of a cook. And no one knows it but me.
A few weeks ago, we had a little bonfire at a friend's house, that was supposed to also include chili. Mmmmm chili. I've made it a handful of times, and had only scorched the whole pot once. But that was when I was fresh away from home and probably the first time I'd made bulk sized food away from my Mom's tutelage. It was a disaster. There was no "avoid the bottom" and eat the rest. You could taste the acrid, carcinogenic flavor of burnt chili in a bite. In a sniff.
And then it was all recreated on that fateful night at Sam's. I am blaming the gas stove...
The most infamous is still probably that one time I burnt Roberta's birthday pot roast to a crisp...no. Worse than a crip. To charcoal.
Whenever I try to be nice to the guys at work, it seems to backfire. Aside from the fact that they all seem to be rather picky about what they will and won't eat, I never seem to get it right! Why do I bother? The lady that worked in our office before me -- or so I am told -- spoiled the guys by bringing in treats and making apple cider and all sorts of goodies. Every once and a while, I try to bring something in to make it up to them that they lost her and got little ol' me. So far, I've managed:
a goopy cheesecake that wasn't cooked all the way (I've had several disasters involving cheesecake)a cake that literally would not stay on the fork because it just disintegrated when exposed to the airsoupy apple crispand now... burned pumpkin crispRemember the post about the pumpkin crisp? It was delightful and SO easy to make. I've been wanting another, and I decided to share it with the guys.
The rack in the oven was too high, and I was trying to get ready for the day while it was baking. When I got out of the shower, I could smell it in the kitchen. I went down and pulled it out of the oven, even though the timer wasn't quite going off, and saw that the pecans on top were burned.
Nooooooooooooooooo! There is nothing worse than burned pecans! (Ok, there are lots of things... burned popcorn, for example.)
That wasn't the only thing wrong with it, either. The pecans were burned, but the pumpkin wasn't quite cooked all the way. I also used the wrong cake mix. Instead of a regular yellow cake, I used butter yellow. You would think that it might be a good substitution? No. Wrong. Don't do it.
Aside from the dishes not turning out well, we need to also remember that stint where I kept setting my stove on fire...but I'm pretty sure that was just for me. But maybe it wasn't. And also! Cooking is dangerous. Remember when I kept slicing off my fingers?
Either way, I think this proves exactly why I eat out so much...it's SO much easier with much less risk of burning something down.
Because, I'm not really that bad of a cook. And no one knows it but me.
A few weeks ago, we had a little bonfire at a friend's house, that was supposed to also include chili. Mmmmm chili. I've made it a handful of times, and had only scorched the whole pot once. But that was when I was fresh away from home and probably the first time I'd made bulk sized food away from my Mom's tutelage. It was a disaster. There was no "avoid the bottom" and eat the rest. You could taste the acrid, carcinogenic flavor of burnt chili in a bite. In a sniff.
And then it was all recreated on that fateful night at Sam's. I am blaming the gas stove...
The most infamous is still probably that one time I burnt Roberta's birthday pot roast to a crisp...no. Worse than a crip. To charcoal.
Whenever I try to be nice to the guys at work, it seems to backfire. Aside from the fact that they all seem to be rather picky about what they will and won't eat, I never seem to get it right! Why do I bother? The lady that worked in our office before me -- or so I am told -- spoiled the guys by bringing in treats and making apple cider and all sorts of goodies. Every once and a while, I try to bring something in to make it up to them that they lost her and got little ol' me. So far, I've managed:
a goopy cheesecake that wasn't cooked all the way (I've had several disasters involving cheesecake)a cake that literally would not stay on the fork because it just disintegrated when exposed to the airsoupy apple crispand now... burned pumpkin crispRemember the post about the pumpkin crisp? It was delightful and SO easy to make. I've been wanting another, and I decided to share it with the guys.
The rack in the oven was too high, and I was trying to get ready for the day while it was baking. When I got out of the shower, I could smell it in the kitchen. I went down and pulled it out of the oven, even though the timer wasn't quite going off, and saw that the pecans on top were burned.
Nooooooooooooooooo! There is nothing worse than burned pecans! (Ok, there are lots of things... burned popcorn, for example.)
That wasn't the only thing wrong with it, either. The pecans were burned, but the pumpkin wasn't quite cooked all the way. I also used the wrong cake mix. Instead of a regular yellow cake, I used butter yellow. You would think that it might be a good substitution? No. Wrong. Don't do it.
Aside from the dishes not turning out well, we need to also remember that stint where I kept setting my stove on fire...but I'm pretty sure that was just for me. But maybe it wasn't. And also! Cooking is dangerous. Remember when I kept slicing off my fingers?
Either way, I think this proves exactly why I eat out so much...it's SO much easier with much less risk of burning something down.
November 19, 2012
Homecomings
Saturday night, I made the mistake of pulling up a bunch of these videos. Actually, I think I watched just about every one of them available on Youtube.com, including the "Man's Best Friend"-ones.
I'm a sucker for these videos and without fail, they make me bawl.
I posted this video because the very first one is my favorite.The little girl, probably not even two years old, throwing her arms around her daddy's neck and almost incredulously telling him "Hi, Daddy," a couple of times before saying, "I miss you," and a beat later, "I love you."
It makes me laugh, and mostly it makes me cry. (I watched it again, and have to get under control before I'm spilling tears onto my desk.) Sniff.
I can't believe how many fathers and mothers who volunteer to serve their country in lieu of being with their families. They miss the births, the first birthdays, football games, and any number of milestones throughout their children's lives as they commit to putting their own in danger for the sake of their families, yes, but also, for every American in our country. There are videos of fathers meeting their babies for the first time, six or seven months or a whole year later.
It's incredible.
And I can't help but watch these videos and see their sacrifices, and think that I should probably be taking their place. I don't have any aspirations to be in the armed forces, but at the same time, I don't have a family at home depending on me. I kind of feel selfish. And then I remember that I'd never make it through boot camp, and all my good intentions fly out the window.
So instead, I'll just try not to watch these for a while, so I can get a grip. And I'll be sure to make everyone in the armed forces know how much I appreciate the sacrifices they make on a daily basis.
God bless them and their families.
November 7, 2012
Life's Big Questions
I don't know why so many people get hung up on the BIG three questions that everyone seems to ask: Where did we come from? Why are we here? Where are we going?
After all, we have the general answers to these questions. Especially if you know to look towards our prophet here on earth, and to the scriptures.
No. Those aren't the big questions. The big questions are more like:
How in the world actually get into relationships? Not just romantic ones, though, certainly I mean those the most. But also friendships. How does it happen?
How do you decide on THE thing that you are supposed to be doing with your life? How do people come up with a career path?
And how/where in the world do you find the motivation, dedication, and discipline to completely change your life? Especially after you've been doing the same thing for so, so very long.
After all, we have the general answers to these questions. Especially if you know to look towards our prophet here on earth, and to the scriptures.
No. Those aren't the big questions. The big questions are more like:
How in the world actually get into relationships? Not just romantic ones, though, certainly I mean those the most. But also friendships. How does it happen?
How do you decide on THE thing that you are supposed to be doing with your life? How do people come up with a career path?
And how/where in the world do you find the motivation, dedication, and discipline to completely change your life? Especially after you've been doing the same thing for so, so very long.
November 6, 2012
New Tradition
I broke my own cardinal rule.
Yup. That's my Christmas tree. It's up. It's up before Thanksgiving, and heck, since I'm being honest, it was up before Halloween. It's blasphemy. And yet, it's amazing. It's amazing because this Christmas tree represents Thanksgiving, too! It's the best of two worlds. I plotted, planned, crafted, and spent a lot of money, and it turned out better than I imagined.
The pictures don't do it justice, truly, but I'm going to post some anyway.
Now, I mentioned that I had to get a little crafty for this tree. I spent the better part of a Sunday, filling empty, glass ornaments with paint and shaking the paint around until my forearms were so tired, and then I carefully propped them up and let them dry over night. I spent the next evening carefully arranging them in my tree. The thing that really drew me to these particular ornaments, besides the fact that they are the perfect shades of harvest colors, was the opaque look. I loved it. I found the idea on Pinterest.com, and I wanted to recreate it, and after 24 hours, I thought I had.
Alas. I did let the paint dry completely. I thought I did, but I didn't. I came home from work the next day, and found that the majority of my balls had paint settled in the bottom or on the sides, and they were very, very non-opaque.
It was pretty disappointing.
So my ornaments aren't perfect. At the end of the season, before I pack up my tree, I'll repaint the insides and give them days and days to dry so that I am certain of getting my opaque ornaments for next year. Because this is my new tradition. A Thanksgiving-Christmas tree. I love the harvest color palette. I love the fact that Thanksgiving is being recognized beyond Thanksgiving weekend. And I love the fact there are turkeys on my tree. And leaves. And acorns.
I wish you could see it in person. I really am very pleased with it.
Yup. That's my Christmas tree. It's up. It's up before Thanksgiving, and heck, since I'm being honest, it was up before Halloween. It's blasphemy. And yet, it's amazing. It's amazing because this Christmas tree represents Thanksgiving, too! It's the best of two worlds. I plotted, planned, crafted, and spent a lot of money, and it turned out better than I imagined.
The pictures don't do it justice, truly, but I'm going to post some anyway.
Now, I mentioned that I had to get a little crafty for this tree. I spent the better part of a Sunday, filling empty, glass ornaments with paint and shaking the paint around until my forearms were so tired, and then I carefully propped them up and let them dry over night. I spent the next evening carefully arranging them in my tree. The thing that really drew me to these particular ornaments, besides the fact that they are the perfect shades of harvest colors, was the opaque look. I loved it. I found the idea on Pinterest.com, and I wanted to recreate it, and after 24 hours, I thought I had.
Alas. I did let the paint dry completely. I thought I did, but I didn't. I came home from work the next day, and found that the majority of my balls had paint settled in the bottom or on the sides, and they were very, very non-opaque.
It was pretty disappointing.
So my ornaments aren't perfect. At the end of the season, before I pack up my tree, I'll repaint the insides and give them days and days to dry so that I am certain of getting my opaque ornaments for next year. Because this is my new tradition. A Thanksgiving-Christmas tree. I love the harvest color palette. I love the fact that Thanksgiving is being recognized beyond Thanksgiving weekend. And I love the fact there are turkeys on my tree. And leaves. And acorns.
I wish you could see it in person. I really am very pleased with it.
