I just don’t get it. Is it really necessary? Is anything really that important that you have to TEXT??? I’ve heard all of the arguments. I know what you’ll all say, but why not just pick up the phone and call the person? It takes less time. It’s more personal. If they don’t answer, it’s probably because they are either busy or don’t want to talk to you. Leave a message. They’ll get back to you on their time. Remember 10 years ago when very few people had cell phones and we were all just fine? Sure, sometimes we couldn’t get ahold of people all the time, but we lived through it. Taylor’s all about not having cell phones at all. I’m not willing to go that far because they’re really useful, especially in an emergency, but I use mine for a phone, not a personal texting machine. I understand that texting can be useful at times, but usually when people are holding text conversations, it’s because they are in a place where it is inappropriate to be calling somebody. FYI, that probably means that it’s inappropriate to be texting. And don’t get me started on the whole texting while driving thing. That’s just dumb.
Now that we’ve established how dumb texting is, I also don’t get why every person on the planet expects that every other person who has a cell phone (or a home phone for that matter) has a texting plan. I, for one, don’t. As stated above, I think texting is dumb and I don’t do it, so why would I pay an extra $20/month to get texts from people that I don’t want to get in the first place? I don’t ever text back. It takes WAY too long. I know with practice I could get faster, but I don’t want to. Remember? It’s dumb. It’s much easier to just pick up the phone and call. I wish I could have an automatic text reply to people who text me, but like I said, I have to pay for every. single. text. This may make me sound old and out of the technology loop, but I just don’t get it.
Taylor and London start school tomorrow. For London, it’s her first day of kindergarten. All day kindergarten. For Taylor, it’s his 3rd year as a full-time college professor. As for me, I’m sitting here with a list of projects running through my head and dreaming about all the time I’ll have to work on them. But not tomorrow because I have a parent orientation at London’s school. And maybe not Tuesday because I have ant traps to buy and fabric to scout out. And then Wednesday…wow, I’m getting to the middle of my week here and I already don’t have time! So much for getting things done. As it turns out, life will probably take over.
I broke my camera. This is the 2nd digital camera I have ever owned. My first one broke one day at the beach. It opened up and never closed or took a picture again. I replaced it because, well, it did a fine job, but I wanted something a little better. I did some extensive research and finally settled on the cute little point and shoot that I have. Or had. Until a couple of days ago. I guess I still have it. It just doesn’t work. We took it to the beach on Thursday. I took pictures. It was great! We had a fun time. But on Friday when I tried to use it, I couldn’t. The lens opened, and never closed, never letting me take another photo. I love my camera! How could it have pooped out on me in just 3 short years of usage? I took it to a camera repair shop where they told me that I had sand in the lens. Of course. They also told me that it would cost $68 to fix and that the fix would take 2-3 weeks. 2-3 weeks?! I don’t have that kind of time to live without a camera! I take pictures daily! In fact, I haven’t been able to use the thing for 2 whole days and I’m already going crazy! I’m hoping that I can find a screwdriver that will allow me to take the thing apart and blow it out with some canned air. Maybe, just maybe that will be the solution to all of my problems. If it doesn’t fix the problem? I have no idea. Until then, I’m sad and camera-less. I already missed the all-important first ballet recital. What am I going to do next Monday on the first day of kindergarten with no way of photo documentation? I hope all the thing needs is some pressured air to get back into working order.
I just spent the better part of an hour cutting up chicken. I bought chicken today since it was on sale. Usually when I buy fresh chicken, I open the package and freeze each breast individually in its own little ziplock baggie. Today I decided while I was at it, I might as well cut up some of it for dinners I have on the menu for this week. I only cut up 4 breasts. It takes me so long because I’m so disgusted by the whole process. I only ever buy boneless skinless chicken breasts since that’s about all I can handle. One time we cooked a whole chicken and another time we cooked a turkey. On each of those occasions, I made Taylor pull out all of the nasty guts. And he used to be vegetarian. It takes me forever to cut up the boneless skinless chicken breasts because I won’t touch them with my bare hands. I use a fork and a knife and I’m very careful about the chicken not touching anything besides the cutting board and the fork and knife. I don’t know why I’m so grossed out by it. As I was cutting, I was thinking about this whole process that I do and started to wonder why I even eat meat at all. I have had beef only once or twice in the last seven years, just because Taylor doesn’t eat it. I remember making meat loaf once when I was a teenager and was totally grossed out, having to stick my hands in and mix up the ingredients. Now I don’t eat it and I can’t even fathom why people like it. We don’t eat a ton of meat, but we do have it and I think I would have a hard time going completely veg. But then again, I would never have to cut up raw chicken again. It might be worth it.
Even with all of the painting, Taylor and I decided to take advantage of our alone time and go out. I bought a $25 gift card from restaurant.com almost a year ago for the Boathouse Restaurant. We were finally able to use it yesterday. It was a fun little place right on the San Diego harbor. We sat at a table that over-looked the water where the boats were all parked. It was nice to just spend time together and not worry about getting home to the kids. On Monday night we ran some errands together. We didn’t have to be back to put the kids to bed and we didn’t have to drag them all over the place. It’s so easy to get things done without them around! This morning we went to the temple. That’s another thing that we don’t do often enough, just because it’s so hard to get away. We had a nice relaxing time (when we weren’t painting). I’m glad to have my kids back and I think they’re excited to be home, but it was sure nice to not have to worry about them for the last few days.
I have never given blood in my life. I am 31 years old and I am starting to feel a bit selfish. You see, my brother-in-law, Denver, always gives blood. Whenever he gets the chance, he’s there. Even if that means fainting every time. And I’m pretty sure he doesn’t even have a really cool blood type. It’s probably something wimpy like A- or A+. But here I sit, a universal type O blood donor, and never give. I think it’s time for me to think of others. So many people die because they need blood. I can help them. Why don’t I? This morning our stake (church organization) had a blood drive. I thought about going. In fact, I almost planned on going. Then I forgot until it was too late. And, once again, I didn’t give. Selfish? Probably. Chicken? Definitely. But I’ve given birth. Twice. I’m pretty sure I can spare some of my blood. Next time.
I almost forgot to write about our concert last week. Remember when I told you about it? I was a little nervous. It all turned out really well. There were probably about 30 people in the audience, mostly elderly. And they LOVED it. Taylor played a couple of pieces, I played about 4 or 5 pieces, and there was a singer from New York who was here and also sang. He was very good. I just wished I wasn’t sitting in the front row because he was also very loud. Anyway, the music was great. I really enjoyed playing and listening. It really was an enjoyable experience for me. I was a little nervous during the first piece, partly because I was the first to play and it was unaccompanied. But after that, things were great. And the audience was just great. One lady came up to me afterwards and, holding my elbows, got kind of close and whispered, “You were the star of the show. That singer was great and all, but you, you were the star.” I loved it! What a great compliment! I really am glad I was able to play. Now I need something else to motivate me to practice again.
Hi. My name is Kiersten and I’m addicted to Facebook. That’s right, folks, as much as I hate to admit it and as embarrassing as it is, I waste way too much time checking up on “friends.” I joined Facebook a few years back. I loved how I was able to be back in contact with so many old friends from all different times in my life. Thanks to Facebook, I was reunited with a bunch of high school friends with whom I had completely lost contact. It has been great, but has gone overboard. I find myself in my daily routine thinking, “I need to update my status,” or “I should tell the Facebook world…” Really, why does anybody care what I’m doing at any point in my day? And why should I be divulging that information to all of my hundreds of “friends?” And why the heck to I care what my “friends” are doing every second of every day? While we’re on the subject of “friends,” I really don’t know how many so-called friends I have on Facebook, but I can tell you that I have more Facebook friends than real-life friends. I started weeding some out, but that became quite tedious and took way too long. In fact, recently I deleted a “friend” who died over a year ago. And I felt bad deleting her, like I was deleting her life or her memory or something, when in fact I won’t remember her as my Facebook friend at all. I’ll remember her as a real-life friend. I had memories with her during her life, not on Facebook.
It’s been almost 48 hours since I last signed in. I deleted my Facebook app from my iPod. Now I’ll have much more time to live my life. Maybe I’ll blog more. Maybe I’ll craft more. Maybe I’ll practice my violin more. Maybe I’ll spend more time with my kids (but only if the screaming stops). I haven’t deleted my account. I probably won’t do that anytime soon. So I can still get messages. I just won’t be signing in anymore for a long, long time. After all, this is the last few precious months I have with London before she’ll be off to full-day kindergarten in August. I need to make the best of my time with my children. They grow up so quickly. And I’m sure Facebook (or something better) will be there to keep me in touch with them when they’re grown and gone.
I usually don’t get nervous. I started playing the violin when I was four, and played in festivals as far back as I can remember. I can’t remember ever being nervous at a young age, but I can remember being nervous in performances as I got older. Still, I don’t get nervous very often. Now, though, I hardly play my violin at all. It sits for weeks at a time in it’s little coffin, never seeing the light of day. I can’t really say why I don’t play it much. I’m sure it has a lot to do with my kids. London hates it when I play. But I don’t play when they’re in bed either. Not very often, at least. I think I’m starting to see why. I get nervous. Taylor’s home when the kids are in bed and I’m nervous to play in front of him. He’s a music professor. He knows what sounds good and bad. Although I know he’s not paying attention or critiquing me, I’m apprehensive to play around him, and especially practice within ear-shot of him.
I practiced tonight while Taylor was upstairs watching a movie. He opted out of doing the dishes while I was practicing, trying to stay out of my way and make me more comfortable. I appreciated that. After a good practice session, I feel good. I feel muscles that I don’t use much anymore. Maybe if I played more often, I wouldn’t be so nervous to play in front of my own husband. I’m playing in a recital this Friday evening. I got a phone call a couple of weeks ago from an older lady in our previous stake, asking me, no telling me, that she would like me to play a concert in her home. Before I could even think of an excuse, she was telling me all about how she loves having concerts in her home. She has a big room with a piano and can seat 40-50 people comfortably. She told me that her daughter would be my accompanist and that I needed to prepare 5-6 pieces. She also informed me that a tenor from New York would be there singing as well. There was no way for me to say “no.” I guess that’s a good thing because I’m sure I could have and probably would have. But here I am, having practiced twice so far, and playing a recital on Friday. I’m surprisingly kind of excited about it. It’s nice to work toward something and I’m surprised at how quickly old music is coming back to me. I’m even going to play a couple of pieces I’ve never performed before and just kind of worked up on my own since college. Hopefully I won’t be nervous. I’m not yet.