God is good.

I'll return to my regular nonsense and shenanigans shortly, but I'm up early this morning because I can't sleep. And I can't sleep because I can't get my mind off of what a spoiled brat I've been and how humble I feel that despite my brattiness God has blessed me.

I haven't kept to myself very well how dissatisfied I've been with my job. For the past year (longer really), I've been focused on all that I dislike about my job: the whole 8-5 thing, the stress, the do it now now now-ness, the make sure it's perfect perfect perfect-ness, the lack of opportunities for creativity, the fact that I've been there for seven years and it doesn't feel like progress... I even went so far as to set an arbitrary date (supposedly October) of when I would quit my job and forever after become a maintained princess whose only worry is what color she shall paint her nails each day. And in setting a date, I made it pretty public.

Well, as the date neared, I felt more and more uneasy about it. Deep down I knew it was the wrong thing, but still I persisted. And I refused to make this decision with guidance from God. Big decisions, and sometimes even small decisions, are generally made after prayer and contemplation. But this time I refused to go to God about it. I didn't want to hear the possible (more like probable) answer that randomly quitting my job was not the right thing for me or my family.

So I finally took the matter to God. I asked Him what He would have me do. And as you've probably guessed, the answer was to stay at my job indefinitely, and to focus on what I was doing there. To be honest, I've struggled with that answer. I KNOW it's what I need to do, but that doesn't make me WANT to do it. For the last several months I've been going to work unwillingly, kicking and screaming (not literally most days), even grudgingly.

Now that I've set myself up as a spoiled rotten brat and completely ungrateful, now comes the good part. The part that makes me feel insignificant and greatly significant all at the same time.

Despite my grudging, God has seen fit to bless me and sustain me in my work. It's been His way of showing me that He is mindful of me, even if He doesn't give me everything I want when I want it. How have I been sustained? Well, we're down one person at work, and a lot of her duties have fallen to me. And little miracles have happened that if I wasn't paying attention I might miss (and probably have missed quite a few of them). Like this: I work on a task, and usually it takes me say 30 minutes, and when I've completed it, it's like time hasn't passed at all, and I still have time for another task. I'm busy, crazy busy some days, but somehow everything that I need to do fits in my day.

Here's another one: I've been sick, fatigued, exhausted. And by all measures should have been entirely non-functioning. Somehow I've been able to find the energy I need to do my work. In fact, I hardly noticed how tired I was until it was pointed out to me by Dr. SometimesStinkyPants.

And here's another one: I feel blessed for doing what God wants me to do right now. It's an overall feeling of, "Keep it up little girl. I love you."

And this makes me feel significant, like who am I that God would love me so much? He really knows ME and my desires and my struggles and loves me. And I'm reminded of my insignificance that God is all powerful and all knowing, and me, silly Gordita who knows very little, am grudging when He asks me to do something.

So God is good. And I couldn't sleep this morning until I wrote it down. What's amazing to me is that I know He loves me a lot, and yet I know He loves all of you a lot too. I'm reminded of how much He loves you when I read your blogs, or get e-mails from you, or talk with you. I'm reminded of how much He loves you when I think of you. So there's another little miracle: His love is infinite.

More embarrassing moments

Andrea's comment that at least I didn't literally run into the big man on Friday got me thinking about a time that my BFF Kacy and I shared embarrassing moments at the same event.

A few years back, Kacy and I and others were asked to assist at a luncheon for the top 15 of the Church and their wives. Our assignments were to help seat the brethren and their wives as they came in. I remember I was wearing a skirt suit (black jacket, black pencil skirt) and a button down top. I might have been wearing pearls. I was the model of grace and professionalism. This story really just proves that you can dress a monkey in silk, but he's still a monkey.

First, let's talk about Kacy's less awkward, could happen to anyone, moment. She was assigned DFU and his wife. When they came in, she walked up, greeted them, told them that she would be helping them to their seats, turned around quickly to walk toward their seats, and face planted right into MRB's chest, nearly knocking him over. Then there was a little "should I go this way? no you go that way." dance that she shared with him before she was able to turn back around to see the DFUs standing and watching, wondering what to do. In the end it was 10 seconds of awkwardness and she was able to show them to their seats without further incident. She was mortified (and I'm a good friend for sharing this story with all of you).

Now on to my, this kind of stuff only happens to Gordita, mishap. I was assigned RGS. When he walked in, I moved toward him with my arm outstretched with the intention of holding on to his left elbow with my right hand to show him to his seat. He thought I was going in for a handshake, but the angle I was coming in was awkward for that. He offered me his right hand, but I was standing next to him by this point. It ended up being this awkward hand holding ordeal (my clammy fingers holding on to the very ends of his fingertips) as I led him to his seat. After a few steps holding hands, he withdrew his hand and followed me to his seat with no further physical contact. This left both of us feeling uncomfortable. But now it just makes me laugh. I doubt he remembers the Q12 groupie that held his hand.

So there you have it folks. After seven years of working in the same place, I've had contact with important people from time to time, and made a mess of it more often than not. It's not glamorous, just embarrassing. :)


P.S. Sorry for the initials. It just seems less pretentious than using their full names. Plus, I don't want this to come up in some Google search where an innocent soul is searching for the word of God and gets the word of Gordita (far inferior) instead.

Well, I try.

What do you say when the living prophet, the president of the LDS Church, the big man, the Lord's anointed, is walking down the hallway toward you with his lunch, and he says, "You walk fast, don't you?"



If you're me, you say, "Well, I try."

If you're anyone else you say, "Ha yeah." Or "How are you today sir?" Or "Yup. I'm on a mission."

But if you're me, you don't think quickly on your feet, you end up saying, "Well, I try." Which sounds snotty if you ask me. And then you feel awkward.



And then, when he responds with, "You're a track star." What do you say?

If you're me, you smile and keep charging forward.

If you're anyone else, you might say, "Thank you sir." "I haven't got the right shoes for that sir." OR "Well, I try. Sir."



*sigh*

Panic! What vitamin D deficiency really means!

A friend at work sent me this article after I told her about my vitamin D deficiency. It made us both laugh a little.

The article is trying to point out the problems that often accompany vitamin D deficiency. But it kind of does a poor job of it. My favorite line is, "When compared with those with normal levels, those with a low level of the vitamin were ... 77 percent more likely to die."

I'm pretty sure we all have a 100% likelihood of death. Just saying.

But truly I get it. Vitamin D is necessary and has links to heart health, overall wellbeing, so on and so forth. And from now on, I will be conscious of my vitamin D levels and have it checked every so often. But really? I'm 77 percent more likely to die? Ha. I laugh in the face of meaningless percentages.


Shoes today are:



Guess Charlotte in black suede. These are my most recent acquisition, from DSW. The nice folks at the Designer Shoe Warehouse sent me a certificate for $20 off. That dough went toward these beauties. Admire the buckle, the suede... Sigh. And check out the heather grey tights. Wee.



Don't think that I wear exciting shoes everyday. You saw the flats from Tuesday? So what am I wearing when I don't post my shoes? Boring stuff, or shoes I've already shown you. *yawn*

Literally

I'm freezing my butt off. Literally.

Just kidding. It's only figurative. Wouldn't it be nice if all it took was being cold to lose some backside bulk? I wish.

I'm so hungry I could eat a horse. Literally.

Not really. I'm not into horse meat.

I'm so tired I could sleep for days. Literally.

If only I didn't have to take bathroom breaks every so often. Or eat (see above). Darn those basic needs.

I've been working my butt off. Literally.

Again, I wish. It's only figurative, and not even true at that. I haven't been all that focused lately. Mind is scattered. Body is tired. Want to curl up under a blanket. Want to play Rock Band until the wee hours of the morning. Want to rock and roll all night and party every day.

Shoe of the day: wait for it... FLATS! O.M.Gosh.

I'm wearing sweater tights today because I'm turning blue (figuratively) with cold. And what goes better with sweater tights (or sock pants as my 3 year old niece calls them) than little girl shoes? It wasn't really a fashion choice so much as it was an admission that I'm just so tired that I'm not sure if I can safely walk in high heels right now (literally).

Shoe facts: Mudd Eden. Black, all man made materials. Bought them to wear to work when I sprained my ankle on Easter Sunday, 2008. How did I sprain my ankle? I was elegantly *coughyeahrightcough* walking down the stairs in my building, hurrying to church, wearing sensible shoes *coughyeahrightcough* when I lost my footing and I fell forward, twisting my ankle into the weirdest of positions. Literally. Thinking it was a minor injury I toughened up, convinced the concerned Huz that I was fine, and we walked to church. Sitting through the first meeting was excruciating because of the pain (and for other, attitudinal reasons). To make a long story longer, I pulled TC out of his meeting, he ran home and got the car, drove to church to get me, drove me home, got me changed into non-Easter clothes, propped up my foot with pillows on the couch, made sure I had the TV remote and PS3 controller nearby, got me a glass of water and some ibuprofen, and ran back to church. What a committed fellow! We went to the doctor the next day, or the same day, I can't remember. I got a neat looking *coughyeahrightcough* brace to wear around my swollen ankle, and was told to stay off the heels for a while. I was dumbstruck. Literally (when is that not true, ha). So we went shopping for flats I could wear to work that were wide enough to fit the brace. We found these. What a long story only to justify why I have flats.

Interestingly (not literally) I have a gel insole in these shoes. So bouncy. Literally. Not figuratively.

Finally, I'll leave you with this thought: My throat is on fire. You decide if it's figurative or literal.

Vitamin D

I'm just waiting for the Vitamin D and all the other drugs I'm on to kick in and give me an energy boost. In the meantime, I'm faking it until I make it.

I'm not very good at faking it.

Today I'm wearing these:


Jessica Simpson black square toe pumps. I bought them at Dillards about a year and a half ago. I've worn them so much that the name of the shoe has rubbed off and I don't remember what they are called, so sorry I don't have more details. I remember when I first got these shoes I thought they were far too tall for me to walk safely in, but I've gotten used to them.

Sorry the photo is so hideous. The shoes are black matte leather, not green brown shiny mystery fabric like they look in the photo. Stupid phone camera.

Dr. Grumpypants, MD

Several years ago, when I was searching for a doctor, I came across Dr. Grumpypants, only then he was known as Dr. Cool. TC and I both liked him. So I've been seeing him for the past several years.

Last week Dr. Grumpypants held my thyroid medication hostage (I have a lazy, under-active thyroid) until I let them take five vials of blood (my blood). So they took my blood, and I felt sick for the rest of the evening.

Any who, Dr. G's assistant, who calls me "Hon," called me hon on the phone several times while she told me that the Dr. wanted to talk to me about my results. Long story short: my lazy thyroid has gotten lazier and I need to increase my meds (could this be why I'm having trouble losing these ten or so pounds that won't come off, no matter how faithful to WW I am?), I'm anemic, and vitamin D deficient. The main symptom for all three problems: fatigue. No wonder I'm exhausted all the time.

The good news is that my problems are easily corrected with meds. The bad news is that now I'm taking so much stuff that I bought a daily pill organizer thingy. I feel old. The other good news is that Dr. Grumpypants was back to his old Dr. Cool self. It seems he likes me better when I have a chronic illness he can solve for me. He didn't go to four years of Grumpy Pants Medical School to be called mister.


On to shoes of the day. On Monday I wore these babies:

Steve Madden red peep toe pumps. We bought them a few years back from Nordstrom Rack. I love them!

On Tuesday, I spent the work day doing all sorts of manual labor, so I wore my flats all day. No photo. All that work wiped me out!

Today, I wore these:

Mudd brand pumps I bought at Sears several years ago. I only made it a few hours at work before the psychosomatic effect of knowing what was wrong with me, paired with the exhaustion from yesterday, took over and I had to come home to sleep. A long nap later, and I feel slightly less tired.

Back peddling

I've been thinking about this whole love/hate relationship I have with my life. Reading all of your responses to my last post has had me thinking for the past few days. Kim's comment that we all have brown patches on our grass is right on. Many of you (Brianne, Angela, Amy, Lenessa) pointed out that you write about the happier things on your blog in an effort to help yourself be more optimistic, focus on the positives, and not come across as a jerk. Great points!

I decided to look back at my own posts, and I realize that I am a hypocrite. I write about happy things the majority of the time. I write about trips we take (as though life is one great vacation, and as though we don't have to jump over any hurdles to get there), shoes I buy (as though my life is one long shopping trip), projects I complete (when I don't mention the great number of projects that I never see through to the end)... The things I write about here do not necessarily represent my real life, and it might make it all look more glamorous than it is.

But, on the flip side, who wants to read me drone on and on about how I came home from work discouraged, tired and cold? Or how annoyed I got that the World Series got in the way of watching my television shows? And what kind of person would my readers all think I was if I wrote about the "negatives" in my life which seem to outweigh the positives (as measured by my distorted perception)? And I'll be honest that I can't be completely honest on a blog that anyone could read. I wouldn't want to hurt anyone inadvertently. My blog is not a tool of destruction. (And on that note, I'm sorry if I've hurt anyone with my rants and strong opinions and such.)

So I filter my thoughts, our activities, and post the happier ones.

One other thought I have about this is that I know I'm blessed. I know I've been given many great things. And I know that I truly have little to complain about in my life. Logically, I know all this. When I take a step back and look at things objectively, do a little comparison of how things have been, of how things could be...

I find it difficult to look at my life objectively. I'm too vested in it. I'm too focused on making it better, that I forget to stop and say, "Yeah, it's pretty good."
So I'm going to work on that. This discussion has made me realize that I really do focus on the negative and that I have a lot to learn from my friends.

So, in conclusion, I'm a hypocrite. And I'm back peddling. And I love you all for your thought-provoking responses.

Shoes of the day will return soon.

I HATE MY LIFE!

I had a coworker who said random things that made me laugh even when she wasn't trying to be funny, like the time she got frustrated with the printer and yelled "I HATE MY LIFE." And then there was the time she exclaimed in frustration, "WHY am I so RETARDED?" Or the time she asked me if she should tell someone on the phone that he was S.O.L. Yeah, she made me laugh, but my favorite is "I HATE MY LIFE," maybe because there are times I think it, but I don't often say it loud enough for my coworkers to hear.

I've seen on other people's blogs things like "We're loving life," "Our adorable little children keep us on our toes," "We have been married for 5 blissful years," and "We enjoy every minute that life has to offer us." Is this optimism? Is it lies? Are these euphemisms for how they really feel? Or is it flat out the truth? I have a hard time believing that it is 100% the truth, because for me it's not. Generally, I think my life is good, and I know I'm blessed. But honestly, I don't always feel blessed. And honestly, I DON'T enjoy every minute life has to offer me.

So if I was to write a bio to match those super optimistic bloggers, here's my first crack (this was really hard since being so SO happy doesn't exactly come naturally to me):

"We are Gordita and TC, and we have been best friends and lovers for nine wonderfully blissful years. We have so much fun every day between our awesome jobs, going out with our super awesome friends, and experiencing what our fantastic lives have to offer. We haven't been blessed with little souls to raise yet, so there is an empty spot in our hearts and home. We hope to fill that void with small animals if the whole children thing doesn't work out. We love our life and enjoy every moment together. Nice nice nice. Wonderful wonderful wonderful. Bliss bliss bliss. The end."

Here's the reality:

"We are Gordita and TC, and we have been married for nine years, at least three of which were complete crap and we'd never wish to relive them again. We enjoy being married now. We enjoy fun, and would like to have more fun. We don't have children yet, and sometimes that sucks. We travel. We play video games. We watch too much TV. We tease each other a lot. We enjoy most of our time together. The end. Oh, and also, we don't really like small animals."

So I guess I fall somewhere in the middle. I don't 100% love my life, and I certainly don't 100% hate my life (although if you caught me on the wrong day, I might tell you otherwise).

What I wonder about those people who say they love their life is are they:
1. Optimists and truly do love their life?
2. Liars?
3. Want to put on a pretty face for the public?
4. Delusional?
5. Looking at the bigger picture and ignoring the small, less desirable details?

I'm cynical, I realize this. I have hope that someday I'll get to the point that I can look back on my life and say, "Yeah, it was pretty awesome." But I think it's unlikely that I'll ever have the perspective needed to look at my current circumstances and say, "Yeah, it's the best. I LOVE my life 100%." I do have HOPE that perhaps one day in the distant future, if I apply myself and work hard at it, I'll be that person. But if I ever become that person, I don't think I'll write on my blog about it. I just don't think I'll ever be THAT person.

What about you all? Do you love your life? Do you hate it? Are you somewhere in between? How do you feel when you read about other people's awesome lives? Do you feel envious when you read about my super awesome life and just wish you were me because of all the non-stop fun I have? *cough*

Limited vocab

Last night it was warm, so we slept with our window open. I enjoyed my sleep until around 2am a man with a very limited vocabulary began yelling. He said maybe a dozen different words, repeating them over the course of 30 minutes. His favorite words began with an F and a Y. There was something about a mother too...

At first I was irritated that he had interrupted my sleep. Then I was a bit frightened that maybe he would hurt someone. Then I began to feel sorry for him. He was obviously hurting. He yelled several times, "Why don't you just kill me?" He was in pain, emotional pain. And he was likely inebriated. His voice cracked, quivered. And I wanted to yell out of my window, "It's okay buddy. You're going to be alright."

But then I heard glass breaking and silence. TC said the police came and got the man.

I seriously debated calling the police. I rehearsed what I might say in my mind. But I had no idea where he was. I couldn't see him, I could only hear him. And because of the echo-y courtyard he could have been anywhere really. (Would you have called the Fuzz?)

That was a weird 30 minutes of my life. It almost seems like I dreamed it. But the fatigue that comes from interrupted sleep tells me otherwise.

On a different note, here are the shoes of the day:



These are BCBG Grido in purple suede. I LOVE these shoes (so much so that you've already seen them on the blog).

Shoes of the Day

I'm bored with blogging. I'm reading all kinds of blogs, but I just don't feel like I have anything interesting to offer the blogging world. I've finished several sewing projects, worn them, loved them, but I just can't seem to get the photos from the camera to my computer to the blog. And reading a written description of the projects probably wouldn't be too interesting.

The Huz and I have had amazing adventures at the doctor's office (i.e. Dr. Jerkface, MD is pretty much a chronic grump and I'm tired of him treating me like I'm a moron and then getting snarky when I apologize for forgetting something that he claims he told me), great times with family, have gotten colds, have gotten better, have made great strides at work, but none of it feels interesting enough to share. Blah.

I got my chipped tooth fixed. The dentist made it a bit bigger than it was (we're talking micromillimeters), but since I too make things bigger than they were naturally I freaked out at first that I now have a rabbit tooth for a front right tooth. But I'm positive I'm blowing it out of proportion because no one has noticed, or offered me carrots, or run me out of their garden, so I think I'm alright.

My sliced open finger is mostly healed. And TC is still super awesome. He isn't convinced that he is, but for reals, HE. IS.

I could write about how the leaves are falling and it's autumn, but I'm guessing that's pretty much apparent to all my readers.

We had an uneventful Halloween except for the chubby kid with grubby fingers that helped himself to a heaping handful of MY candy when I had already given him some and was distracted giving candy to his TOT-mates and how irritated I was at his audacity until I remembered that he was just a kid, probably six, and I wasn't exactly oozing manners when I was six. So maybe I was a little hard on him.

We've also been really into Utah football and the Jazz. But we have cheap cable, so we don't get to actually watch any of the games. But where there's a will, there's a way, and TC found a way that we can enjoy the games. He's cool like that. A lot of the time, we just end up waiting for the sports section of the evening news and eagerly watching the highlights. Maybe we should just upgrade our cable. Can you imagine? I'd watch HGTV nonstop. That could get ugly.

So now that I've established by writing several paragraphs that I have nothing to say, here's what I have to say today. Below is a photo of the shoe of the day. Splash Fashion Footwear brand cheapies that I love.

TC picked them out for me several years ago at Burlington Coat Factory for cheap. Oddly, I wasn't too sure about them when we bought them, but now, a couple of years later, I love them. Thank goodness I held on to them. And I'm glad I came around.