HAPPY FRIDAY

If you would have asked me this morning if there was such thing as a "Bad Friday" I would have answered with a resounding "YES."

In fact, I was thinking that whoever said, "if you go to bed and wake up in the morning, everything will seem better" was a liar.



It was a Typical Bad Morning:

typ·i·cal  bad  morn·ing:   

[ˈtipikəl bad ˈmôrni ng]noun

1. wake up late

2. cold shower

3. can't find clothes

4. late to class

5. no breakfast

6. any combination of the above 

But That Boy Down the Street came to the rescue.
Fruit snacks. Three packs. All different flavors.
Delivered to my physics class.
Without an order.
All of the boys sitting by me just gawked.
I am sure they were mad they hadn't thought of it first.
"Who was THAT?" they all asked.
Just the hero of my morning.
That's all.

I think I almost cried. I LOVE fruit snacks

and I love them even more on a crappy morning. 

cheers. happy friday.

THE SITUATION OF MY SOUL

So, approximately 4 years ago I sold my soul--

to my orchestra teacher, Sam:

Let me define....

If you sell your soul to Sam 

you enter in a promise

of participation in 2 renowned orchestras

 6:30 a.m. rehearsals

{never late}

performances every month

and high standards 

of professionalism.

For instance, I didn't sit with my class at graduation.

I sat in the orchestra.

Dedication? Oh it is more that just that.

                                      We are talking about my soul, remember?

Sam always played along with the joke and assured us orchestra members that we would receive our souls back upon graduation from high school.

****************

Fast forward four years.  In college, I have joined folk music groups, the Philharmonic orchestra, and  I have recently taken up membership in the Orchestra at Temple Square.  I play a variety of instruments and am spending all of my free time making music. Last time I checked, I didn't get my soul back.

But I have been thinking...and I understand now.  As a naive high school sophomore, I didn't give my soul to Sam, I gave it to music.

And you know what? 

I don't think I want it back.

Thank you, Sam.

LITTLE SURPRISES

So any student at BYU knows about the window in the testing center at the bottom of the stairs that has notes galore that friends leave for each other to pick up when they exit the testing center. (You know, to distract from the bad test score that you'll see projected up on the television screen in front of you...)

I always scan to see if someone left me a note or something...

So today I ABSOLUTELY BOMBED MY STATICS TEST. It was timed, tough, and tragic. (Look at my alliteration!!) I was livid when I came out of the testing center.

Now generally I am not a pessimistic person, but this morning I was. As I walked down the stairs and scoffed at the window. No way would there be something for me. But of course I just took a tiny peek out of the corner of my eye. [I like to assume the worst and prove myself wrong, because the odds go up that I will be pleasantly surprised. Takes away from the disappointment, you know what I mean?]

"Nope.

Just a few notes for a

John Smith,

Sally Goodwin

and Sarah Mc....

Probably Sarah McDonald

or something. Not me."

HOLD ON. I did a double take.

WAHOOO!! MY FIRST LETTER ON THE TESTING CENTER WINDOW!!

What a pleasant surprise...

After this, life didn't seem quite so brutal anymore

I stopped cursing my statics professor

And everything school-related

I about died and went to heaven. I was STARVING.

My mother can attest to this, but I get very very very grumpy when I am hungry.

So I felt just peachy after eating those pop tarts.

{I love eating the corners, weird I know.}

The funny thing was that the note wasn't even signed, except for a wise piece of advice....

The pop tarts tasted even better after that, because I had a pretty good idea who left them.

Thank you :)

MY BEST FRIEND

The other day I was pitting an avocado quite cleverly with a butcher knife and a friend asked where I learned the trick. I answered

"My mother taught me that - along with the advice to always use your blinker and never vote straight ticket."

My mother is my best friend. Honestly. I know I can always trust her opinion. She always gives me a straight up answer if I ask her if some article of clothing flatters my figure or not.



{This little picture sums up my sentiments quite accurately.}

I was thinking about all the things that my mother is, and has been, in my life. My mother is my....

Alarm clock, driving instructor, dinner chef, wardrobe advisor, shopping buddy, diaper changer, lullaby vocalist, teacher, righteous example, personalized-advice-giver, chauffeur, my #1 fan, my best audience member, comforter, curfew enforcer, friday lunch date, best listener, guider, mom, and best friend.

I don't know where I would be without her. I realize my life could have taken a very different route, and I am so lucky to have her as a mother. She is wise, strong and immovable. As I reflect back on my life, I realize that she was supposed to be my mother. The way that she understands me and connects with me is irreplaceable and rather rare. The advice that she gives me has always stuck. Even if it seemed to bounce off of my hardened teenage self, it still made an impact. I hope you read this mom. (Oh, I forgot to add to the list above that you are probably my best and only blog follower/reader. :)

Happy Mothers Day.