Dinner: Much more difficult than it looks

As I write this, I am sipping on a protein shake. Not for any special love of protein shakes, mind you. It is Friday and on Fridays (and Wednesdays for that matter) if I remember, I go meatless. It took me a while to find this particular variety of shake mix as I wanted one with no artificial sweeteners- which I found out was more or less asking for the very-difficult-though-not-impossible. But I am not here to talk to you about protein shakes, or about the expensiveness of organic milk (which, for three and a half dollars a half-gallon had better be taken from a cow who has a better diet than I do!), but of the wacky differences between people- most specifically between me and my roomie.
You see, we are very different people.

Roomie cheerfully gets up at oh-dark-thirty on a non-pt day to go mow grass.
I drag my sorry self to pt three days a week, whinging all the way both in real life and on this blog.

Roomie is a neat-freak with a neat-freak's room.
I am relieved to find out that my carpet is under there somewhere.

Roomie thinks [s]margirine[/s] [s]margerine[/s] [s]margerin[/s]... FAKE BUTTER is just as good as real butter in cooking and baking.
I think that stuff is not far enough away from plastic in its chemical composition.

Roomie watches work-related stuff on the weekends and studies for job-related stuff.
I watch the Last Airbender and MST3K.

Roomie puts away the blender as one cohesive whole.
I put it away in four, sometimes five parts.

And therein lies the tale.... Perhaps you guessed it when I dwelt at length upon the difficult-to-find protein shake, or the expensive milk. So.
When I put away the blender in four or five parts, I do so because I thoroughly clean the blender. And because, truth be told, we have plenty of room in the kitchen cabinets. Returning for a moment to the thorough cleaning of the blender and its bits, there is a rubberized plastic ring that goes between the spinny bit and the glass bit. This ring is pretty much all important in the proper running of said blender. This afternoon when I reached for the blender, I saw that Roomie had put it all together- but I wasn't so easily fooled! I'd seen my mom drop the bottom part of the blender on her foot* because she thought it was firmly screwed into the base and it wasn't! So, I pulled out the top part of the blender (spinnything, glass part and lid) first, and then the bottom part. I put the top part securely back onto the bottom part and got a banana and the milk from the fridge. I poured the milk- and I'd poured almost a full shake's worth before I realized that it was spilling all over the counter. Yep. You guessed it. The all important rubber bit was not where it was supposed to be. And there went the lovely organic milk. There went my dinner. I was too fed up to do anything more with it, ironically enough because I hadn't had anything to eat. So I said "Screw it, I'm going out!" and I went out and got chik-fil-a. Good idea.
You know, this whole thing seemed a lot more blog-worthy when I began it...
Whatever.


* I must specify here that I can't remember if it was my mom or my dad** who did this, but on the whole I think it's more likely that my mom did this. It's the sort of thing she would do...
**Lest you think my home life was even weirder than it actually was, I will point out that I have a memory like a steel sieve. I know this incident occurred, in my house. Exact details escape me. Aren't you glad I don't have jury duty?

A Mess of Contradictions

Because I'm human. I'm a Trad who wears pants. I'm a Gregorian chant lover who listens to metal. I'm spiritually aware enough to know that I was at the back of the line when awareness was being handed out. I'm right handed but I do random stuff left handed.

I will not be put in a box and classified according to someone else's definition of who or what I am. I will not compromise. I will not lower my standards. I will not be consumed with regret about the past or with fear about the future. I was created by a loving God Who has a good plan for me. To Him, I am beautiful and special. That should be all that I need. I will never forget my dreams, even if I have to put them aside for a while. I will strive to keep a clear head in the present and to do my job to the best of my ability at all times and in all places. I will accept my current limits and love myself while striving to improve myself. I will learn from the past, but I will not allow it to hurt me. I will seek to know God's will in my life and to carry it out.

As promised...

To probably my ONLY reader... I am going to post what I was thinking earlier. For the rest of you (haha... who else is out there?), please enjoy as I try to demonstrate something that happened earlier today. I am trying to post this in pictures- something I rarely do because it takes a lot of effort and I'm not sure it's worth it, because I suck at things involving photos and the internet. Anyway, here goes.

So you're minding your own business and going to Mass when you happen to notice this guy sitting in front of you.



Directly after Mass (because you _never_ get distracted during Mass, not even by guys like this!) you ask your friend the important questions. To the best of her knowledge, is he...





Whew! No poaching! But you were so distracted by this face:

that you completely failed to notice his hands!




As far as your friend knows, he's not engaged! Okay, hate to ask because this is one that's kind of more between the guy and God than the other two, but...





You stare at this new guy for a bit longer.




You scrap together a little courage and walk over, trying to simultaneously smile and not to trip over your own feet. You hope the humidity hasn't gotten to your hair yet. You wonder if your makeup is okay...
"Hi!" you say, too brightly. "I'm Bolyongok*! What's your name?"



And he says....


.
..
...
....
.....
......
.......
........
.........
..........
At which point, you are thinking "Really, God? Really?" Well, that and "I wonder who I can borrow a copy of 'Polish in 20 Easy Lessons' from?"
NB: The cutie whose photo I borrowed is in fact Polish footballer Rafal Boguski. I'm pretty sure he's taken, but I'm not ACTUALLY losing sleep over Rafal Boguski. I'm just using him as a placeholder. I'm fairly certain he was not harmed by this blogpost. He's cute, isn't he?


*Actually you wouldn't say 'I'm Bolyongok', but we'll leave it as an example. Cool? Cool. So why are you still reading this? I really haven't got anything better to explain down here and I could go on for a while. I went on for something like forty-eight pages of my thesis so seriously don't put it past me!