Moment of Truth

My goal recently was to fit in my True Religion (tm) jeans by my birthday. It was a snug fit, but they actually buttoned and I wore them all day!

Which brings me to birthdays. I HATE them! Why? Let me count the ways:

1. You automatically become the center of attention.
2. Your expectations of the day always fall short of what happens.
3. No matter what, people feel obligated to be nice/call/say happy birthday.
4. Somehow there is always fighting. Whether the other party is aware of my passive-aggressiveness really isn't my problem. Sometimes I hate estrogen.

We all have moments, usually called epiphanies. Today was one of those days. I went to the gym on a Friday night at 8. I was so excited just to run. As I ran looking around at the nearly empty gym, I thought to myself, "Look at these gym junkies! Double oo-er!". But then I thought "Am I one of them?!" I mean all I look forward to is going to the gym. When life gets hard I just want to run. Is that bad?! Everyone always thinks that they are in control of their addictions, but in reality, are we really?! No. Of course not. At that moment I realized I was training myself for a life of single-hood. I literally started laughing that I will probably die alone.

Update on my life:

USH finally rehired me. I'm moving back to Utah next week. I have no idea where I'm going to live, but I'm starting to embrace the idea of being a gypsy. I still hate sad movies. I really, really hate them. My reality is sad enough.

I realized something else. When a girl says "It's fine" and "Really, it's fine" it has two completely different meanings. The first is passive-aggressive. It's not fine, she's just saying that. The second usually means that it's actually fine. Yesterday, I meant "it's fine".

Seriously 2011?!

So 3 weeks before I came home from my mission my Grandpa Englund died. Seriously Grandpa?! You couldn't have waited 3 weeks?! Today, my Grandpa Barrus passed away. I have been very good about the whole thing knowing that he's with my grandma and is healthy with no pain, but my mom is a wreck. I don't know how to help her. I've cut myself off emotionally, as always, to deal with everything but how can I help her?! I just have to keep leaving the room when she's crying because I don't know what to do, which is completely not like me. Thank you 2011.

So, in true Englund style, we had a dance party that involved my little sisters, my littlest brother, my mom, and I dancing. They showed me all of the dance moves that I had missed in the past year and a half, including the dougie, jerk, and stanky leg. It was amazing and would have lightened anyone's bad day. I wish you all could have been here.



Yes, that's chocolate on his face. He is the reason I'm addicted to chocolate. I'm so grateful I had the opportunity to take a train and visit my grandpa before my mission. I love and miss him tons, but I know he's watching and helping me now.

Crying at the Gym

When I go to the gym, I watch the TV and run. Sometimes I bike. I have never wanted to eat at Denny's so bad in my life. Their value menu looks delicious.

One thing that almost made me cry today was this. I actually started crying when I showed it to my sister:

Why the Hush Hush?

So, after being sat down a second time, I realized that members of my family have been reading my blog and are subsequently offended. So, not to censor myself, I've set my blog on private. If you know of anyone who would like access to my blog, just let me know. I don't want to stop anyone from reading about my wonderful life.

Becoming Suzy Homemaker

Life is still a bit dull.

My dad and I finally finished reupholstering our couch. It only took 3 weeks.



I also made bread by myself. It turned out fabulous. Probably because I prayed before I started that I wouldn't ruin it. I'm completely serious.



I spent New Year's Eve with one of my besties, and the night turned out to be one of my favorites. The highlights of the night include but are not limited to:

-Getting lost on the way to a YSA dance and deciding to just watch the Space Needle's fireworks.
-Parking in the middle of the street to get out and watch the fireworks.
-Having an Indian man (dot not feather), who had a fabulous accent, take our picture.
-Having guys tap on our window and ask us where the party was. They had fake northern European accents.
-Getting on the wrong freeway entrance and ending up in west Seattle and finding the Goodwill outlet. Twice.

So I'm in the process of domesticating myself. After a long talk with Natalie, I realized that my free spirit needs to be caged. We'll see how this goes.