Its the Little Things

So I've been living with my parents for a few weeks now. There's very little I don't like about my current living situation, but it's funny when I think of what I thought would be the greatest thing about living here, and what I actually get the most pleasure out of are two different things.
(Before I continue...let me add the disclaimer that I'm speaking purely of material things. Yes, I love the fact that I actually get to spend some time with my parents after so much time away at college, and no, no material thing is better than that. That goes without saying. So that being said...)

I thought living in a beautiful, ginormous house would be fabulous enough in itself compared to my little apartment. I thought having access to a nice quiet lake to escape to would appeal to me daily. I thought living rent-free for a few months would bring tears of joy. And I wasn't wrong, all those things are very true. But what's surprising is that what I notice more are the little things. Like the fact that the cereal is brand name and not generic. And the fact that when I pack my lunch, I don't have to save the ziplock bags to wash them out and reuse them, or be careful not to crinkle the brown paper bag too much so I can use that again, too. Or that when you want to blow your nose, you don't have to use the toilet paper because tissues are a part of bathroom decor. For that matter, there is toilet paper on the roll, and you don't have to resort to paper towels! And the fact that you can throw away twist ties because there's a magic drawer with more. Or the fact that paper plates even exist, or how there are actual napkins instead of (again) a roll of paper towels. And bottles of water instead of reusing the bottle and filling it with tap water every day. And nothing here has been fashioned from an old cardboard box, or held together by expertly placed rubber bands and safety pins.

Someday when I'm rich and famous in my own home, I'll be able to do all those things too. Isn't it funny that you know you've finally made it not by looking at the size of your bank account, but by the fact that you can buy real Cherrios with the little bee and everything instead of "Sugar O's".
It's funny how regardless of all the things going on around you, it's the little things that matter.

My Secret!

I have a confession to make. I wasn’t going to blog about this because I was embarrassed at first but it’s just too funny not to.
So last month I decided to….cringe…join eharmony. I confess. I did it. I have paid someone money to find me a date. A date that could turn out to be the unibomber for all I know.
Not that eharmony is a bad site or anything, in fact as far as internet dating goes, I’d say it’s the site to go with. I just never really saw myself doing the whole internet dating thing. And don’t worry…I’m not so much concerned with finding “Mr. Right” and settling down and start popping out rug rats, but just that it might be nice to meet someone outside of the 8 people in my hometeam (yes, even though no one I meet could be better than you guys so keep the smart comments to yourself!)

So I join eharmony. I give them my credit card number and sign my life away. I pay them money. Actual, hard earned dollars that are rightfully mine. I fill out their twelve billion question personality profile that discovers your twelve billion levels of compatibility. I learn that one of my twelve billion personality traits is I’m not very patient in taking twelve billion question personality quizzes. (By the way, I never exaggerate. Never ever ever.) Ok so here’s where it gets good.
I hit “submit”. Up pops a little icon that says “searching”.
“Searching”
“Searching”
“Searching”
And then a page that says “We’re sorry, but there is currently no one in our database that is a suitable match for you. But please don’t give up because literally thousands of people are joining eharmony every day and we will continue to search for your matches”

So it’s true. I have the proof right there. I am incompatible with “literally thousands” of people! No wonder I can’t get a date, I’m completely incompatible with anyone in the DFW metroplex!! And to top it all off, I am listening to the radio a few nights later and there is a commercial about eharmony, and they are advertising that they have 4.5 million members in their database!! So it’s not just “thousands” of people I’m incompatible with, but millions!!!

Well you can’t say I didn’t try. I guess it saved me the time of dating “literally thousands” of people.

All I have to say is Mr. Right better not be a member of eharmony. :)
(And yes…I see the irony of this posting on the heels of the valentines day post…)

Happy Single Awareness Day

Yes, that's right, Single Awareness Day. Otherwise known to the rest of the world as Valentine's Day. Valentine's can be great when you have a boyfriend or girlfriend to share it with. But what about the singles of the world? What about the independent, content with their current boyfriend-less lifestyle, future cat ladies of the world? Don't worry, I'm not going to go off on one of those feminist "I hate men" rants because that's just silly. But really...everyone focuses on the fabulousness of Valentines Day for those lucky enough to be coupled up. But does that mean, by default, that everyone without romantic plans has to be depressed with their pathetically unfulfilled single life?

I say that's ridiculous. I say if you want to throw yourself a pity party, the other 364 days of the year are just as good. Just because this one happens to be called Feb 14th doesn't make it any more pity-party friendly. I say count your blessings. Think of all the money you're saving by not buying somebody a gift that will either wilt in three days or add 5 pounds to your hips that have been sticking to your new year's resolution for a month and a half. Think about how you don't have to share the bathroom with anyone. What about how when you put dishes in the dishwasher or laundry in the hamper, they magically stay there! Or how when there's dirty underwear on the floor, you know for sure it's definately yours. Or how you can take a 2 hour bath if you wanted to and no one will judge you for it. Or how there's no one on the other side of the bed who sets their alarm 30 minutes before yours so you always end up waking up earlier than you wanted to anyways.

I'm not saying it's not fabulous to be in a relationship. I'm just saying that just because you're not in one doesn't mean your life is incomplete. I already know that I am loved deeply and taken care of and thought of as beautiful...that comes straight from God. I don't need another person to tell me that. Would it be nice to have a guy say that to me? Sure! But he doesn't have to for me to know that it's true. Because what if one day he changed his mind...because people do that since we aren't perfect...where would I be then if all my happiness and security lay with him? But if I know the truth...then when a guy comes along that happens to believe that same truth too, well that's just icing on the cake. Until then, I'm not focusing on how I'm "missing my other half" or how I can't be happy or complete until I'm in love. I'm a complete person because of God, not someone else's opinion, and until he brings me that very lucky guy :)...I'm thinking about all the awesome blessings I've already got and don't even deserve....and not focusing on the one single thing I don't have! (get it...single...) So future cat ladies...or cat gentlemen...of the world, rejoice! Life is awesome, don't miss it while you're too busy trying to find it!

The World According to JC Penny

So last week I decided I needed some new clothes. Let me preface by saying I hate shopping for clothes, and the last time I did it was probably about 4 years ago! One might ask, ‘but you’re a girl, doesn’t that mean you enjoy shopping?” The answer is a resounding NO! I hate clothes shopping because not only is every woman’s body different than the next, every BRAND of women’s clothing is different too! You might say that’s a good thing. I say give me some consistency! Size 6 in Levis jeans should be the same as size 6 in Calvin Klein! And what ever happened to the odd numbers, wasn’t there once a store called “5-7-9”? And don’t even get me started on the “low rise” and “boot cut” nonsense and that stupid thing your pants do when you sit down and suddenly there’s a 2 inch gap between your waist and your pants!
But, unless we all revert back to fig leaves (which I’m gonna go ahead and say is a bad idea!), the shopping must be done. So first I journey to Ross, where you never have to pay more than $3 for an article of clothing. I tackle the jeans aisle. Sigh. I don’t even know where to start. The one pair of jeans I currently own are a size 9 and a million years old. They are also too big and held together with a safety pin (I can see Kara hanging her head in shame now). So step one, I estimate I am now a size 6. Step two...eliminate any jeans with flowers, bedazzles, or anything pink. Step three…with the remaining selection, guess at random which ones will fit.
So with an armload of size 6, non-flowery, non-bedazzled, and non-pink jeans in tow, I head to the dressing room. 20 minutes later I walk out empty handed. Sigh. Already I wonder what is so abnormal about the lower half of my body that no pair of pants will fit it! How dare the jean companies of the world make me question my superior physical shape!!!

Next I tried Thrift Town and TJ Max to no avail. I resigned myself to the fact that I may have to pay more than $20 for an article of clothing, which is against everything I believe. In fact, I’m pretty sure it’s in the bible. So I cringe and make my way to….sigh…the mall. Yes, the mall, a fishtank of teeny bopping girls and pant-sagging boys who try to act cool as their parents drop them off at the food court. A place filled with overpriced clothes that no one else has ever actually worn before. A sea of clothing racks and accessories that only the hip and trendy can identify as “cool” or “uncool”. Yes, that is where I go.
I once again find myself overwhelmed in a sea of jeans. I load up on all different sizes and brands, not quite daring to look at the price tags. Then I make my way to the dressing room and begin the process again. One after another, each jean is rejected. There are a few that seem to fit, but even those are about 6 inches too long for my apparently abnormally short legs.
The next pair I pick up is a size 4. How ridiculous, I think. I can’t fit into a size 4. But considering the vast definition of what a size 4 actually is depending on who you ask, I try them on anyways. And what is this? They seem to emit a soft golden glow, and I think I hear a choir somewhere singing “aahhh”. I turn around back and forth to see if it’s true. Yes, they actually seem to fit! I look for ripped pockets or busted seams. None! I don’t know what kind of space-time-continuom I seem to have passed thru where my giant butt can fit into a size 4 jean, but I’m not asking questions!
And believe it or not, I find even two more pairs that fit as well! The gods of JC Penny have smiled upon me! Then I dare to look at the price tags. Yikes. Ouch. No bueno. Perhaps they are not overly expensive to your skilled shopaholic, but for someone used to the prices at Ross….well let’s just say we’re not in Kansas anymore Toto.
But I decide for the amount of times in a year that I actually buy clothes, and the amount of times I actually FIND clothes that fit, I should probably make the investment.
So I painfully walk to the counter with my 3 pair of jeans, and what to my wondering eyes should appear, but a miniature price tag and good news for my ears!!! It seems that these particular jeans are on SALE! Never before have I understood the excitement those four little letters can bring to a woman’s ear. I have found the holy grail.

Now I must add a side note for all the men who read my blog: Yes, shopping is a spectator sport, and there are times when you are the lucky spectator, just like we are when you want to look at cars or video games. However, I warn you, avoid going clothes shopping with your girlfriend whenever possible!! Now you may be saying to yourself, Crys, of course I know better than that. Why would I ever do that. But when you’re out with your girlfriend and you pass a store and she gives you those big brown eyes and calls you pookie and asks to go in for “just a few minutes”, you and I both know you are going to cave. And during my quest for the perfect pair of jeans, I have seen the casualties of shopping firsthand. Too many men are sitting outside of dressing rooms with defeated looks in their eyes holding purses. Don’t say you haven’t been warned.