Life in the Klutz Lane

When I was growing up I took ballet and jazz lessons. Starting at the age of 3 until I was 15 I attended classes sometimes up to 4 or 5 days a week. As a teenager, my mother told me (and lots of other people) she attributed that fact that I wasn't a complete klutz and that I was still living to dance. What she was really saying is that dance lessons had trained some of the awkwardness and poor coordination right out of me. Not entirely though. And, much to my dismay, it has done nothing to help with the ridiculous situations and seemingly endless occasions where minimal common sense, lack of observation, and poor memory reign abundant.

I was reminded of this idiosyncrasy of mine--if you'd like to call it that, although perhaps conundrum is a better word for it--on Sunday night. I had been working the night shift for the last several days and was scheduled to work Saturday through Tuesday nights. To say night shifts are not my favorite thing, would be a gross understatement. I don't mind the actual work on nights (I mean, I am posting on my blog right now...at work...in the middle of the night...) but I hate my life when I work them. All I want to do is sleep and lay in my bed before I go back to work. Sociality is non-existent when I work nights and getting to the gym is worse than pulling teeth without numbing. The night shift just isn't very conducive to Erika being a happy, extroverted, kind, or mentally with it girl (the last one being a small problem considering the fact I'm a nurse and hold people's lives in my hand!). But, I digress.

Saturday night I worked. I came home Sunday morning and slept. ALL DAY. I had to work Sunday night, so I skipped church and wasted away the beautiful sunny day sleeping and laying in my bed. Our home teachers were coming that night so I dragged myself out of my cozy and blissful slumber at 4 pm and hurried to shower, eat, and get ready before they arrived. They came, gave us a nice little lesson, boosted our self-esteem, and promised to send Jeremiah's roommate to replace our front porch lightbulb later that week. I chatted with my roomies (Corinne, Megan, and almost roomie Rachel) then headed off in the pouring rain to report to work.

I got to the hospital early. Very early. 20 minutes early. A rare occasion for me. So, I bought a diet coke and a bag of cinnamon bears from the cafeteria to share with my pod partners (the other nurses I would work with that night) and mosied upstairs. My name was not on the assignment board. My name was not on the schedule. I looked in the schedule book. I was NOT supposed to work. Blasted.

Typical Erika moment. (Seniors have theirs; I have mine.) Of course I would do something like this. I would show up to work when I don't even have to. It couldn't have been a Saturday night when I would have been more than happy to go home and find something fun to do. This was Sunday night. What can you possibly do on a rainy Sunday night? I'd slept away the sunshine, missed church, and would be awake for the WHOLE night because I'd been dreaming all day. I was left with little else, but to return home, chat a little more with the girls and then watch episodes on Hulu until 430 am when I was finally able to sleep...until 230 pm Monday.

And you know, it would be one thing if this was a rare occurence, but these sorts of things happen to me all the time. For instance, in March I missed my flight from Seattle to SLC. I wasn't late or in the bathroom. I was sitting in the terminal, 100 feet from the gate, facing the window where the plane was boarding. They paged me overhead; then they gave away my seat.(It does help me feel better that at least I wasn't alone on this one and my 2 friends were with me.) You can't script things like that. It's purely dumb. STUPID in all capital letters.

Or, take the time I backed out of the lean-to my landlord calls a carport and knocked the side mirror off my drivers side door. Which then had to be taped to my car to hold it up until I could replace it.

Then there was the day in college when I resorted to using dish soap in the dishwasher because we were out of dishwasher detergent and I thought it would be fine as long as I just "used less." Let's just say we had a repeat of the bubbly floor scrubbing scene in Cinderella.

Oh, and let's not forget the double date I planned with my friend Natalie when I used my "secret trick" to reheat the rolls in the oven with a wet paper bag, then forgot about the rolls and caught the oven and rolls on fire.

And the morning I locked my keys in the trunk of my car @ 530 am in Burley. Where I don't have a spare key. Where the lock smith lives 45 minutes away. When I had to drive back to SLC because I was on-call at work. And then I never got called in.

The list could go on and on and on. I'm sure you could probably list 10 things similar to this...even if you barely know me. My mother and father could take pages; which is why they're not allowed to comment on this blog post.

Friend Dates

Much to my father's dismay I have never been much of a dater. I mean, I go on dates, it's just that around the 2nd consecutive date I somehow seem to lose favor with the idea. I date around (not in the skanky way people!), I just can't seem to find bliss in the long term dating relationship. I've tried. I've analyzed myself, and I just can't seem to figure out what my problem is. I could be a very interesting case study for some psychology major out there...and I could definitely use some insight for myself too.

However, regardless of my inability to participate in an extended dating relationship with a member of the opposite sex, I am really good at friend dating. I love it. I'm addicted. I go through withdrawals when I miss out. I could go on friend dates daily...with the same friend even! No matter my flaws in the romantic dating department, I flourish in the friend dating
arena.

And why wouldn't I, or anyone else for that matter, love friend dates? Unlike romantic dating, with friend dates there is no fuss. I can call and arrange the friend date or the other person can.

There is no time frame; we can arrange to get together the day of or a month in advance.

I don't have to worry about what to wear, how to do my hair, or what my friend will think of me.

There is no limit on how short or how long our friend date needs to last-any reason to cut it short is acceptable and not "blowing them off," and if we're having a good time we can stay out until the wee hours of the morning.

I can say anything without worry of unkind retort, feeling dumb, or killing the conversation.

It doesn't matter if I'm taller than my friend which means I get to wear my high heels if I want. I never have to worry about the follow up. I don't have to wait for anyone to call, email, text, or facebook me. I can call the next day or the next week. I could put a nice card in the mail if I really wanted to...it might even be more appreciated!

I always feel good after a friend date. Always.

Friend dates are perhaps one of the greatest things of the civilized world. They were probably even great before the world became civilized, come to think of it. Every week I try to make sure I have at least one friend date. I feel very fortunate that I have some really great friends with whom I can friend date often.

These peeps are my top 5 favorite friend daters at present. My life would be officially lame, dull, anti-social, and fairly miserable without them.

Rachel, aka Twiggy, is the girl I call for sushi, movies, concerts, staying in, going out, talking, laughing, crying, desserts, and everything in between.

My haven from work, Michelle keeps me busy when the rest of the world is working in the middle of the day.

Perhaps my best friend dater ever. Angie says it like it is and helps make me brave during our weekly friend dates. Plus we always eat really well on our dates!

My go to girl for all things advice. Chrislyn always knows just what I need and makes time for me even with her new hubby!

He'll make you laugh until you cry. You might even pee your pants. Joel's the boy you call for an all around good time. The best guy friend a girl could ask for!

TGIF 4 TOFW

Last weekend I took a very memorable trip to Pocatello, ID. I know, many of you are thinking there's not much that's memorable about Pokey, ID. Well, let me tell you, when I roll into town, there's always something memorable.

It began with a 2 hour drive with my long time friend (actually she holds the record for longest friend ever in my life...23 years and counting) and pseudo sister Corinne. We jammed out to some old school music that took me right back to being 14 and going on Young Women's road trips. Hairbrush in hand and Celine blaring through the car, there's nothing like it.

We arrived in Pocatello to meet our mama's, see my grandparents, and await the arrival of the Randall ladies (also known as my adopted mother and sister here in SLC). When all were gathered together we took off for the best mother-daughter weekend event ever--Time Out For Women Pocatello style!

It was phenomenal! The music was inspiring; the speakers were funny, charismatic, witty, endearing, and memorable; the seats were awesome (2nd row...thanks Chrislyn!); and the Mini Dome (oh, I think they call it the Holt Arena now) was FREEZING! in JUNE!

We had a great time at the event and even more fun laughing, joking, shopping (of course we did, Rachel was with us!), and eating. A few highlights of the weekend include:

1. My grandma trying to pawn off another purse on me. "Well, dear, if you want it you can have it. I'm getting tired of this one. And, see, I brought 2 with me."
2. Eating space burgers at the Tasty Treat. Yum.
3. Watching Debbie rub shoulders with Michael Wilcox and Chris Stewart. She has connections with EVERYONE!
4. Squishing 8 people into Colleen's SUV.
5. Terri counting in the men's turned women's restroom. "There are only 10 stalls and 24 urinals in here. No wonder men get out so fast!"
6. Eating Buddy's famous salad dressing and pizza.
7. Grandma succeeding in giving me yet another pair of shoes.
8. Getting my 2nd birthday party for turning 24.
9. Having mom's homemade cheesecake! BEST EVER!
10. Grandma forgetting. Yea, just forgetting.
11. Setting up my new tent in the living room with my dad.
12. Being hugged by my grandpa.
13. Driving back to UT with the Randall Ladies...okay, sleeping through the drive.

Well, as you can see, definitely a memorable weekend in Pocatello. You can all take back your thoughts on the matter now.

Oh, and special thanks to Chrislyn for having a job that makes us all better and gives a chance for a time out!

One Stop Shop

Yesterday I took a trip to Costco. Let me just say, for the record, Costco and I have a very love hate sort of relationship. I mean, how can you not love Costco? It's the only place you can drop off your photos; buy electronics, jewelry, housewares, clothes, and groceries; sample your potential purchases; have an eye exam; pick up your prescriptions; get your car fixed; eat lunch (or order dinner to go); and gas up your car all in one place. Not to mention the fact that you can buy all the 2 year storage supplies you might ever need in one quick sweep or walk away with 32 cans of sweet & condensed milk all for a ridiculously low price! Just a few of the reasons Costco is great and I'm in love with it.

But let's face it. Costco is still my arch enemy too. Costco is also the only store that can convince you you actually need 32 cans of sweet & condensed milk as a single person. I mean, how often do I really cook with sweet & condensed milk...how often do I cook period? But somehow, when I'm there, I suddenly need it. And not only that, I also need those 4 books I won't read till next year, the 10 lbs of fruit I will never--in any stretch of the imagination--be able to finish by myself, and the 64 pack of candy bars that will only end up on my hips.

It never fails that it will be busy--either with small children running amuck and cutting in front of my cart or old people moseying along causing me to see all the things I don't need and then putting it in my cart. And no matter how hard I try, I can't leave without spending at least $50...usually it's a lot more. Here exists the hate part of this volatile relationship.

So, yesterday, when I knew I needed to return a dress to Costco (which I have put off for sometime) I pepped talked myself into the notion that I would simply return the dress and then run to my car with superhero like speed. I would conquer Costco's mystical pull.

I failed. It sucked me in. Fresh raspberries had just arrived...I needed them.

It was the middle of the afternoon, on Tuesday. The old people were there. I moseyed. I ate samples. I found 2 new books. I put a shirt in my cart and then put it back (one small triumph). I bought raspberries...and blueberries...and a bag of veggie crisps that I had sampled (they're tricky and very smart).

Then, in the freezer section, as I tried the "new black angus blue cheese burgers they just got in," the cute little lady at the sample table stopped. Our conversation went something like this.

"Ooh, that top is so cute."

"Thanks. My friend just bought it for me for my birthday. Doesn't she have good taste?"

"Yes! It's just so feminine and flowy and pretty. And just looks so good on you. And it doesn't hurt that you're so pretty too. And anything looks good on a size 5 like you. You just look so young, like your 20."

"Well, thank you. I think I'm gonna keep circling this area and coming back to see you."

Let's just say, that yesterday, the love side of things won out for Costco. In fact, I think I might go back next week...my berries will probably be moldy by then and I'll need new ones.