Sometimes being single is harder than usual.

Woman Pains

At the risk of embarking on a painfully awkward subject, I have heavily weight the pros and cons of sharing my rather shocking findings of feminine internal behavior and have decided that the information needs to come forth.

I think that on a physiological level, the female uterus purposefully makes life more miserable for poor victims like myself before children are born. Having never undergone said activity I naturally cannot be sure, but that is my belief. Take the pumpkin patch for example--our PT class, which is constantly having social activities, recently went to a local pumpkin patch. Those with kids brought them along and we had a blast. On that tangent, this particular patch had a cannon from which they launched pumpkins--one every hour--at a speed of 900 feet per second into the air, across two fields or so, and in the direction of the evergreen groves. I wonder if the pumpkin seeds affect their Christmas tree crop. So anywho, it was a blast on several levels to play with everyone's kids. As we were going back to the car, one of my fellow single babyless classmates looked over at me and said, "this almost makes your uterus ache, doesn't it." I found the comment strange, but as we helped the little two year old up the path, holding his hand and listening bemusedly to his happy chatter about all kinds of things I'm pretty sure his mom didn't want us to know, I had to agree. A painful, twisting, almost bitter sensation came from inside. Creepy, right? Creepy but true. My own body turning on me. How horribly rude and inconvenient. Maybe that's all part of menopause too. Your body is trying to reward you for doing your job and allowing it the opportunity to carry a child. That would be a lovely theory if only those who actually had bourne children went through it. Now that I think about it, that is not the case. Hmm... I dunno...

I am blond now--officially. The girl at the salon put way too much color in my highlights. I guess that's what you get when you always shoot for the cheapest option. Bet guys don't get that problem too much. Guys get a bad haircut and can get it fixed up in about a month. Girls, we have to wait years or shovel out enough money for another treatment. Me, I'll take the waiting. Anyway, maybe this way the teachers will be nicer to me. No one seems to expect as much out of a blondie who obviously paid someone else to alter my body to force it to become blond. Not nice, when said that way.

And now I fall asleep as I write. That's my excuse for the convoluted excuse for a paragraph above. Goodnight!

Everyday Victories and Disasters

Well, it has been awhile hasn't it? I guess this whole grad school thing is really quite busy in the end. Wild. I'm sure I had a lot to report if I had described the conglomeration of emotions I began this journey with, but three weeks in it feels as if I have grown accustomed to the road and besides the small pebbles beneath my feet there is little to upset or amaze me anymore. Suffice it to say it has been delightfully overwhelming. The most exciting, intense, and natural thing I have ever embarked upon. I am so grateful for the opportunity and still cheerfully confused as to how I ended up in this frozen corner of the country studying physical therapy of all things. In the few times I take to actually think about where I am I get all giggly and puzzled. What a tangled thing life ends up to be.

I opened the pickle jar myself this week. This may seem little more than slight elbow flexion and internal rotation and abduction of the shoulder joint (haha I crack myself up) but really this was a symbolic victory of sorts. High on the list of reasons single women need a man is to open jars. I ask myself, what does this mean? Have the women of the country become so independent that we have revolutionized the manufacturing of pickle jars everywhere in order to accommodate the growing single woman population? Perhaps I was naturally drawn to the jar that was easier to open through a complicated mixture of Pavlov, genetic selection, and feminine intuition. (Really, it was the cheapest jar, but maybe this plays into the psyche of singledom as well?) Maybe the ability to open it means that I have accepted my current single status with grace. Or would it be strength and dexterity? I certainly wasn't graceful in my attempt. Come to mention it, it certainly wasn't an especially impressive display of strength either. I said I opened it, I didn't say it was easy or pretty. Anyway. Eating pickles has never been so complicated.

As for other interesting developments... there isn't too much to be honest. Life is good. Simple, predictable, and all around blissful. Except today in the cadaver lab I totally swallowed dead people juice when the cadaver leg was suddenly dropped in my general direction. Gross gross gross!!! The general response was far from encouraging. First everyone laughed then they all asked how it tasted. If people really wanted to know, they should drink it themselves then I can laugh at them! Oh well. For the record, it was not delicious, salty, or anything I want to focus on too much.

The Colts are winning agin. Leading the AFC, infact. 5 and 0. What can I say, I sure can pick em, huh? and to squash any rumors I was a huge Colts fan almost since I started watching football over 10 years ago. A colt is a delight to any thirteen year old girl plus I liked their colors. Now they are still my team and I honestly count their first superbowl win as partially payoff for years of fruitless cheering combined with the sacrifice of missionary service. Excuse me while doge the lightning bolt. I am an acknowledged Peyton lover, but this year Austin Collie, a BYU graduate, is a rookie on the team who actually caught a touchdown a few weeks ago. So see, I am a real live fan. And they are winning. And I like that.

Speaking of sports, it ends up the rest of the world are Texas sport haters. Who knew? If you ask me, I am a slight female (although I can open pickle jars... hmm...) who is far away from home all on her little lonesome so people should be nice to me and my state. But they aren't! I can understand Cowboy bashing--everyone does that, especially with stinking Tony Romo in the lead. But Longhorn bashing? Stars? Rangers? Even the Mavericks! I defy you to find another man in professional sports who is more down to earth than Dirk Nawitzki except for, of course, Peyton Manning. Grr. I know it's just jealousy and severe inferiority complexity, but still. I wish people would back off if they don't have the backbone to recognize real true talent. Hmph.

Anyway. To quote one of my favorite movies, "life is a quick succession of busy nothings." I had better go to bed. Or maybe I will eat a pickle... its flavor strangely reminded me of the cadaver juice... maybe they were a little similar? Oh on...