What I didn't realize was that yesterday's post was number 100! I'm sorry that you waded through 100 thoughts of mine that were a total waste of time. I apologize, but I'm not going to stop blogging. It's your own fault for clicking on this site.
I've been writing alot lately. I try to spend about an hour a day writing. I still want to publish something someday. I know what you're thinking, "If she thinks that she's going to get anything published with the kind of writing that she's displaying here, then she's completely delusional." Well, my thought is that if Stephenie Meyer can get published with that kind of writing, then there's hope for me. Kidding, kidding. Actually, I'm not kidding at all! But I do want to explain that when I write on my blog I spend 15 minutes at the most. I don't edit my work. I just go for it. And that's why the grammar is horrible and the posts don't make any sense. I think blogging is a good way to stay in touch with those that you don't see all the time and still want to keep up on. I really enjoy reading my friends blogs (even if they only post every other month).
Lately I really haven't even had time to even spend my 15 minutes blogging. I've been dating and trying to keep up on a social life. I've 4 callings in my ward now and I take those responsibilities seriously. I've been working out twice a day trying to get ready for the Wasatch Back, plus I just want to get all trim and cut. I've actually been thinking about starting a training blog so you guys can keep up on me and my fitness goals. I signed up for the Provo River Half Marathon and a few local triathlon sprints. I also want to get a fight behind me. I have alot to look forward to.
Have you ever been ice blocking? I had no idea what it was until the youth went for their Wednesday night activity last week. You slide down a hill on a block of ice. That's the extent of it. We went to Flat Iron park in Sandy. When we drove up to the hill I remember thinking that someone was going to die. That hill was enormous. I'm not a wuss by any means, but I was a bit nervous sitting on that block of ice at the top of the hill. Of course I was the only leader that would attempt it. I only made it about 20 feet my first time, but I was going at top speeds of like 100 mph. I'm pretty sure that a helmet should be required for this type of activity. I hit a divot in the hill and flew off my ice block. I rolled another 20 feet down the hill and then stopped. My ice block caught up with me a few seconds later and tagged me in the back. That felt so good. I have pride issues and had the race back up the hill and try it 100 more times until I finally made it all the way down still on the block. After the activity I raced to Absolute to make it to a Jujitsu class. A few of the guys commented on the huge grass stains that I had all over my arms. The truth is, I am the Hulk. Don't get me angry.
I've actually been listening to country lately. I'm really branching out. Maybe it's that I've been living in Utah too long. It's just that sometimes country music fits the mood. The other day I was driving east on I-80 towards Park City, the sun was going down and the clouds were ominous and threatening. There were flashes of lightning in the sky. I turned on some country and a string of sad, yet beautiful songs were on. Country songs actually tell a story. Half of them totally make me cry. Which brings me to my next paragraph.
I've become a cryer! I cry all the time now! Me! I know! I used to never cry. I didn't even cry when I broke up with the guy I thought I was going to marry. The tears only came when there was the death of a close friend or relative. I remember sitting the movie theater with a bunch of friends watching Titanic. They were all bawling when Jack died. And I'm not talking one trickling tear down their cheek. This was the heaving sob kind of crying. I recall being embarrassed out of my mind for my friends, and while we were walking out they were talking about how my heart must be made of stone because I wasn't sad. And in my mind I was screaming at them, "C'mon you idiots, it's not freaking real!" These days I'm crying at movies such as Chicken Little. Yep, that stupid Disney pixar movie made me cry. I felt so bad that Foxy Loxy was picking on poor Chicken Little relentlessly. It brought me back to Junior High where all the boys made fun of me in gym class because my mom wouldn't let me shave my legs and they were moderately hairy. As hairy as they get when you're only eleven years old. So yeah, I felt that Chicken Little and I had a connection, and I cried. The other day Super got a little stuck in the eye hole (ocular cavity?) of the skull decoration in his tank. I could tell that he was quite frightened by the way his little body was twitching and how his eyes were bulging out of his head. I felt so bad for him that I started crying. Pathetic, I know. You don't have to tell me twice. This whole crying thing started about a year ago and I hope it's just a phase. I certainly don't want it to get worse. I'd have to shoot myself.
I burnt the back of my legs today while getting into my car after church. My dress rode up a little as I sat down on the black leather seats of my Volvo that was baking in the sun all afternoon. They are seriously hurting. That combined with my butt being super sore from ice blocking is making me sit a bit askew in my chair as I type this. My right leg is going numb, so I'd better end this entry. Behave yourselves!