Self-Improvement

I have a lot of pet peeves. For instance, I cannot stand the mispronunciation and misspelling of words. I also get irritated by incorrect punctuation, which has led me to this act of self-improvement. I think our society as a whole has become entirely too dependent on excessive punctuation for emphasis. It indicates, as does the overabundant use of curse words, an uncreative mind paired with a mediocre vocabulary. And if it weren't for the changes I am instituting at this very moment, I'd be a raging hypocrite. Por ejemplo, my current Gmail status: "Countdown to Peru: 7 days!!!" And how many times have I typed, "What?!?!?" My fingers just flow to those keys far to easily. But I'm through with all of that. I do not need more than one punctuation mark to get my point across. Perhaps I should employ more similes and metaphors.

Instead of: I'm SO nervous!!!
I could say: I'm as nervous as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs.

Instead of: I'm SO excited!!!
I could say: I feel like a 12 year old girl with front row seats at a Jonas Brothers concert.

However, I plan to stay away from similes and metaphors that don't make sense to me. Did you ever meet a happy clam? Does anyone think a barrel of monkeys would be anything besides chaotic and smelly? Get real, people. They throw their own poo.

Could this excessive punctuation indicate a deeper problem that we are too dependent on typed communication? It's much harder to convey the intended tone of "What?" without facial expressions and voice inflections. Should I start writing my tone/emotions in parentheses?

What? (irritated and busy)
What? (shocked and incredulous)
What? (embarrassed and defensive)
What? (impatient and expectant)

See how many different ways they can be interpreted? This is not going to be easy, but I really want to eliminate excessive punctuation from my texting, IMing, emailing, Myspace commenting, etc . . . Okay, that doesn't count as excessive punctuation. That's just how you end et cetera. I promise. It's the one exception to my new rule. :) Okay, that doesn't count either because it's not technically being used as punctuation. It's the other exception to my new rule. Oh, boy . . . I am a hypocrite.

Mr. Wonderful and Our First Fight

Okay, so as these fights go, it's technically not our first one. We actually haven't ever had any real fights. In fact, the only thing we've even disagreed on is whether or not Denver would be a great place to live. (Not for us. We're not moving to Denver. Don't freak out, Juli.) But these "fights" are really just crazy dreams that I have. The first was several weeks ago, and I woke up MAD. I dreamed that Jeff was engaged to his ex-girlfriend, and when I confronted him about it, he said, "Well, yeah, we're engaged. But it's just a business arrangement. You're the one I want to be with." I was so angry. I couldn't believe he would do something like this to me. I said, "I should have known. When something seems too good to be true, it usually is!" It was pretty funny, because I really felt upset with him for several hours.

So last night, I had another crazy dream. It's really long and detailed, but I'll give you the short version. Basically, we were at a party at someone's house, and we'd been there all night, so I was not looking my best. I think I'd even been in the pool. Limp, ugly hair, makeup running everywhere, a wrinkled bridesmaid's dress on (apparently, I'd been in a wedding earlier that night). So I walk over to find Jeff talking to this girl who had gone home and showered and fixed her hair and makeup and was looking all perfect, and I did NOT like it one bit. He said, "Oh, Lara! You know Alisha, right?" I said, in my sweetest voice imaginable, "Yes! Hi, Alisha. It's a shame you're so insecure, you had to go get all fixed up before you could come hang out with everyone." Jeff, appalled at my bad behavior, said, "Lara, that's so rude! What is wrong with you?!?" I stomped off in a huff, and then proceeded to get angrier and angrier that he didn't immediately jump up to follow me out. I packed up my things and walked by him slowly on my way out to give him one last chance to leave with me. Well, he didn't.

When I woke up this morning, I wasn't angry at him. I thought it was funny this time because it was totally all my fault. I called Jeff to tell him about it, explained my irrational jealousy and subsequent bad behavior, and laughed at my crazy dreams. He said, "Well, you sure are in a better mood than the last time we had a dream fight." I said, "Well, this time it was all my fault."

Mr. Wonderful's response: "I'm not convinced this was all your fault, Lara. Why was I talking to some other girl in the first place? There should never be a reason for you to feel like you aren't the prettiest girl in the room. If you do, I think that means I must not be doing my job as Mr. Wonderful (he has fully embraced this nickname and plans to live up to it, apparently). I shouldn't have been talking to another girl anyway. I'm sorry I made you feel jealous. It won't happen again."

Seconds after we hung up the phone, a text message popped up: "Just for the record, when do we get to make up?" Am I the luckiest girl in the world, or what?


Jill, who overheard the phone conversation in our office this morning, hadonly two words to say: Puke, vomit!

Kids Say The Darnedest Things

I work in a very family-oriented dental practice, and we see tons of children. Lately, I've been seeing even more of them than usual because Jil is pregnant and can't administer nitrous (laughing gas). Sometimes they make me want to tear my hair out, but sometimes they just make my day. The same 5-year-old little boy who, 3 weeks ago, told me that he MIGHT let me clean the sugar bugs out of his teeth, but only after he finished watching his movie and then proceeded to scream at me to get out of his way, today was the sweetest little angel and snored through his fillings. His 4-year-old little sister gave me a big cheek squeeze and then performed a song & dance for me under the "spotlight" (the dental light). Another sweet 4-year-old girl drew this picture for me since this was her first visit to the dentist.

The little one on the right is the patient, the medium-sized figure in the middle is her mom, and I am on the left. I can't say it's a particularly flattering rendition of me, but let's keep in mind that the little girl had not met me when she drew this picture. I have blonde hair and appear to be frowning, but she got the blue eyes right. And, hey, it's the thought that counts. The picture is now sticky-tacked to the crazy wall in our office.

But my favorite kid story of the week is my conversation with a five-year-old little girl. Her name is Tatum, and she has the sweetest, biggest smile I've seen in a long time. When I'm working with little ones, I will frequently take my mask off and show them what I want them to do. So I pulled off my mask and said, "Can you open really wide like this?" and opened my mouth as wide as I can. I have an abnormally large mouth for someone my size, so it's really easy to see everything in my mouth.

5-year-old: "I see your thingie!"

Me: "You can? Do you know what it's called?"

5-year-old: "No. What?"

Me: "That's my uvula. Can you say uvula?"

5-year-old: "Loovia?"

Me: "Close enough. You're so cute!"

5-year-old: "That sounds like a planet! Ooooooooh!"

Addendum to "Nerd Alert!"

So I was showing Jill my dorky pictures this morning because she needed a laugh. Dentistry is stressful. Seriously, I had an autistic kid call me a Nazi today. But I digress. So after she finished laughing at my dorkiness, she asked, "What were y'all doing in that first picture?" To which I replied, "Oh, we were out at Lake Wright Patman with our science teacher (the man half-obscured by Cortney's bouffant) looking for Caddo Indian artifacts on a rainy Saturday morning." Jill pointed out that it's not so much the glasses & braces that made me dorky, but the fact that I spent a Saturday morning looking for arrowheads with my science teacher. Duly noted.

Nerd Alert!

So my sister Juli has hypothesized that she might be the most inconsistent blogger ever, but I think I'm giving her a run for her money. I have no witty excuses. I've either been ridiculously busy, too tired to sit at this silly desk (yes, I am the only person I know without a laptop), or dreamily sighing my way through LaLaLand with Mr. Wonderful.






























Two of my best friends came up with that nickname for Jeff (these are the same two who have repeatedly said, "Puke, vomit!" upon hearing my long dreamy sighs about how super-dee-duper life is right now). I wasn't sure it was possible for us to be any more nauseating than we already were, but friends, it just keeps coming. So, let me see if I can think of anything NON-PUKE, VOMIT to write about . . .


Hmmmmmmm . . . let's see . . . OH! I have sunflowers! Sunflowers growing in the front of my house! I never go in & out the front door, so I never noticed them, but Mr. Wonderful picked one and put it in a vase for me the other day. Uh-oh. I guess that could be construed as a little P/V. Sorry.

Um, so my sister Juli started exercising. That's big news! We're going to run a 5k together this winter, right, Jules? Hey, remember that time that you made me get out of the car and walk home because I called you "Jules"? You said only your friends were allowed to call you that. You were one meeeeeeeeeeeeean big sister. I was way too dorky to be her friend. I know, I know. It's hard to imagine that I was dorky (that's dripping with sarcasm for any of you readers who don't know me), so I've attached a picture just to prove it. By the way, I think the fact that I can embrace my dorkiness is quite cool, indeed! So I'm on the left holding up a can of bug spray.

Just in case that didn't convince you, here's a pic of me with my 8th grade science project.

16 Dresses: How to be a good bridesmaid

1) Always look your best. If the dress is champagne, for goodness sakes, go get a tan. And keep in mind the neckline of the dress. No triangle bikinis within a month prior to your strapless bridesmaid dress debut. This will also likely involve hours at the salon, makeup you may or may not approve of, and hundreds of bobby pins. No complaining.





















2) Flirt with the groomsmen. It makes the bride & groom happy to think that their friends and family are fun and interesting, and it makes the groomsmen stand a little straighter and smile a little wider. You must be careful with this one. It's important, when you meet a groomsman's wife/fiancee/girlfriend, to tell her (in this order) 1) how pretty her dress is, 2) how much said groomsman has told you about her, and 3) how sorry you are that your boyfriend (real or fictional) couldn't make it to the wedding this weekend. Otherwise, you risk a potential jealous wife/fiancee/girlfriend, and we don't want any negative emotions this weekend.
















3) Make friends with the flower girl. There is not a snowball's chance in hell that a 3-yr-old will stand quietly beside you for 30 minutes unless you are her new best friend. Do whatever it takes. Sing "Wheels On The Bus" 30 times at the rehearsal dinner if you have to. Don't worry about the ring bearer; he is a lost cause. The groomsmen could care less if he runs screaming down the aisle or rolls his matchbox cars over the priest's feet during the vows, and you can't do a thing about it from your side of the altar. Focus on the girl. She can be won over.















4) Dance, dance, dance. Have a few drinks if you need to in order to loosen up, but you must dance. It is my opinion that at least one member of the wedding party should be on the dance floor at all times, so if the crowd looks a little sparse, grab Grandpa and shake it, sister.















5) Keep the bride laughing. Especially in the event of any minor mishap, a distraction, any distraction, is essential for the protection of her hair and makeup. Crying, while it can be very sweet, is not a pretty thing. If you're close enough to be a bridesmaid, you're close enough to have some inside joke that will make her chuckle despite the fact that the ring bearer refuses to wear anything but Dallas Cowboys sweatpants or the idiot limo driver took you to the wrong church.















6) Do anything the bride asks. This is her day. You are her maid. Literally. Somebody has to put that garter up there.

MACHU PICCHU!

Oh, my goodness! I'm so excited I can hardly sleep. I have got Machu Picchu on the brain. For some reason unbeknownst to me, I became fixated on this place several years ago. I think it all started with a lecture in dental school by the single most boring dentist on the face of the earth. Because he was sooooooooo boring, he forced us to come to class by taking attendance, which they did by having us sit in alphabetical assigned seats. So I settled into my place between Taiym and Tran, my Palestinian and Vietnamese neighbors (who, while sweet as can be, were not what I would call "chatty") with a crossword puzzle and pen in hand. Okay, the crossword puzzle wasn't too out of the ordinary, but I wasn't cozily ensconced between my three very bestest friends, Al, Ann & Jill, so I was prepared for boredom. But Dr. Stromberg started this first lecture of the semester a little differently. He spent 10 minutes showing us pictures and telling us about his trip to Peru, where he hiked the Inca Trail. All of a sudden, a picture of Machu Picchu popped up on the screen, and I fell instantly and madly in love.

At this point in my life, I was a poor dental student with an even poorer dental student boyfriend. Since there wasn't an M&M's chance at fat camp I could get El Cheapo to shell out $100 for anything, much less the $2000 it would cost to get to Peru, I stashed my dream vacay aside for better times (and, for that matter, a better boyfriend).

Well, friends, my dream is coming true. I AM GOING TO MACHU PICCHU! Jeff, the sweetest, most wonderful, most considerate boyfriend in the whole entire world (and, as you can see from my previous post, quite the cutie!), is taking me to Peru for my 30th birthday in October. We had been chatting about my "birthday trip" for a while, but were just a little facetious when throwing around the idea of going to South America. I was honestly thinking about a weekend in New York City or something small. I never, in my wildest dreams, imagined a 10-day trip to Peru. It was totally meant to be. Jeff thought we might be able to book these flights with miles instead of dollars, but wasn't quite sure how much, if any, more affordable that would be. So we had a long conversation with American Airlines on Monday night, during which we learned that a trip from DFW to Cuzco, Peru, and a return trip from Arequipas, Peru, back to DFW would run exactly 35,000 miles each. Jeff had 59,500 miles in his AAdvantage account and knew he would get 3,600 more this week from a trip to Phoenix for work. So we're sitting at 63,000 miles. Then the lady said something about, "What about your companion? Does she have any miles?" Light bulb! Me: "[audible gasp] I think I do have some miles! I got some email about it a few weeks ago!" A few short seconds and a quick Gmail search later, I found my AAdvantage Account Summary email, which stated that I have a little over 7,500 miles. 63,000 + 7,500 = 70,500. Now is that fate, or what?