My Sister the Sip Snatcher

I love going about my usual activities, when something will trigger a memory embraced in a moment.   Delightfully, today reminded me of how much I love my lunatic sister. (I only have one, so I will safeguard her identification!).  The memory trigger?  McDonald's.   Normally I crave a blizzard, medium sized, with oreo's.  Today, I wanted something similar, because my stomach and intestines insisted on matching the freezing temperature outside.  For some reason, anything ice cream related tastes best on the cruelest of days.  McDonald's must have updated their poster, because all of a sudden, the strawberry shake out-shined the rest.  It even had a cherry on top, which I don't understand, it seems it should be a strawberry....but I digress.  "Do you want medium or large?"  By reflex I almost stated , "Large", but then I remembered, my sister is in Utah, thus my temporary investment in this succulent treat was protected.  I no longer had to safeguard the amount for my portion.  "I would like a medium".

Yes, what would life be like without sisters to keep us on our toes and stay in our hearts?  I remember the warm autumn day.   I had stopped by my sisters house, to pick something up.    She eyed the shake in hand, and asked if she could have "Just a sip".  With a granted nod, I asked her to hold my precious treat while my occupied arms carried some elusive items to the car.    I reasoned she was the best guardian, as placing anything on the counter top or table indicated given ownership to the whiskered creature.   Little did I consider that the later was the better option.  Upon returning to retrieve my strawberry shake, the sip snatcher looked at me with guilty eyes, "I am so sorry...it just tasted so good, I just kept taking a few sips, until....well...here."   In sip measurement, I had maybe three left.  "I will buy you another one..."  Her guilty eyes were so earnest.   Instead of being upset, I chuckled.  Ah, who can really explain sister-hood unless you live it?

Sometimes I want to stand on the street with a sign in my hand that states, "Will smile for quarters".  Or maybe something written like, "Phew!  Need quarters for laundry, will create fresh aroma".  Oh how I miss having my own washer and dryer where I can throw something in the wash, and not worry about assuring the machine is empty when the spastic spin cycle is through.  Instead, I start to negotiate the acceptable visual aesthetic of wearing pajamas in public.  It is then when I succumb to the torturous task of counting quarters for laundry.  It never fails, I am always short by one.  Hence, I debate wearing dirty clothes if they pass the sniff test.  Yes, I hate doing laundry this much. 

But I try to stay on task, and add the extra tedious chore of getting a roll of quarters.  Why does laundry have to cost quarters anyway?  Why not dimes, or nickles?    To make matters worse, I cannot consolidate the quarter task with the shopping task, because, for some reason, stores are in serious shortage of quarter rolls and cannot spare to trade with customers.   I pick up milk, and ask for a roll of quarters when the cashier directs me to the lay away/customer service desk.  The line wraps around the building twice.  When I achieve the coveted first in line, I am told that they no longer trade for quarters.  What?!  When did this happen?  Its a new policy, just implemented last week.  Seriously?  Everyone got together and discussed quarters?  Why?  Are they too heavy for some of the staff?  Is staff forgetting to get the traded bills?  Or is this another way of trying to cut down a pathetically long line of answer seekers?  The clerk looks at me with a blank stare.  I stare back, debating whether recommend posting a sign indicating this policy change.  I am tired, cranky, and hungry.  Plus, I have three Mount Everest piles sitting in my apartment.

I go to the bank. 

In the meantime, I have discovered the solution to my situation, and if I ever own a laundry mat, it will be implemented.  Instead of quarters, there will be debit cards that can be provided, and money can be placed on the card, and then swiped per each machine.  Credit cards will also be accepted, with a little bit of user cost tacked on.   I would also make it where you didn't have to pay for laundry until it was done....and the doors would remain locked until receipt of payment.  This would assure safety of persons clothes.

I dunno.  It is really late and my brain is fog.  Perhaps tomorrow this blog will seem silly to me...but right now, even with access to flecks of brain matter, I am having a blast writing this crazy nonsense!  

All I can say, is that I crack myself up!

Bucket List

Anyone ever see the movie Bucket List?  I never did, but I heard it was a riot.  However, since I was told about it, and informed as to what was a Bucket List, I have developed my own.  Some of them are to conquer a fear, others seem fun, some I have always wanted to do, and others are out of mere curiosity.   I laugh at myself when I read it...because I know that some are unrealistic...but hey, its my Bucket List, right?  I'll share...

Melanie's Bucket List

• Learn to tap dance
• Learn to belly dance
• Tour Greece
• Dive head first off of a top diving board (gulp!)
• Skinny dip
• Take voice lessons
• Learn the proper way to swim laps...go regularly.
• Learn to scuba (yikes!)
• Go on a photo vacation around the world
• Publish three books (not via Internet)
• Taste a fried grasshopper (why not?)
• Play volleyball in the rain
• Play football (or ultimate) in the mud
• Boogie like crazy without being self conscious at either a dance or dance club (may I find the courage)
• Get good and kissed! :)
• Go to a formal dance with a male counterpart that requires the attire to match.
• Memorize scriptures and story locations in Book of Mormon, Bible and D&C
• Ride in a helicopter (hopefully I don't fall out!!!)
• Participate in a flash mob
• *****sorry, more personal******
• Sell a painting, have a show in an art studio
• Choreograph a dance sequence
• Take boxing (need to buff up my core/arms...plus, I want to look cool hitting that dangly ball thingee!)
• Run in a field of daisies, barefoot in a sundress.
• Role play "Stranger at the Museum" with spouse.  (I need to get me one first)
• Go see Mount Rushmore
• Go see Niagara Falls
• Go to Hawaii
• Take a vacation on a cruise liner
• Ride an ostrich (or try to)
• Eat a rose.
• Try cooked snake.
• Try to feed soup to someone else with a long spoon. (wonder if the story is possible)
• Pet a giraffe (because they are cute)
• *****sorry, another personal - entail having a spouse (and yes appropriate!!)*****
• Do karaoke at least once (why is this something I MUST conquer?)
• Join a women's drumming group
• Learn to speak Spanish (I need to join this secret club)
• Learn an African dance - native
• *****hmmm, didn't realize I had so many*****
• Own and frequently ride a wave runner (yeah!)
• Eat a banana, peel and all
• Learn to ride a unicycle (I just gotta know if I can)

It is the middle of the night.  I am staring into the fridge with bleary eyes.  I squint at the hint of light the cavity emits.  My foggy brain a blank.  Trying to remember the reason for the night adventure.  Its cold - mission 'turn on the heat' completed.  Nature called - bathroom need attended.  Now what?  I stood trying to keep my balance.  The fridge door keeps me steady.  Oh yes,  I was craving something.  My tummy grumbles in anticipation  What was I getting?  My head is bobbing.  I desperately fight the reclaim of dreamland.  Hmm...whoa!  Almost fell asleep right there.  I snap at brief attention.  CHEESE!  I grab the block of orange product and sniff the unopened package.  I really can't smell anything, but I pretend I do....yummmmm.... cheeeezzzzz.  My mouth begins watering in anticipation.  Dreamland fights back.  Bobbing my tired brain, and wobble bumping into the counter, I shuffle to the only kitchen drawer.  More black and blue marks that I will perplex about in the morning.  I locate the scissors by touch.  My vision is barred by droopy lids.  Must have cheese.  I cut off one end of the plastic wrapper.  NOW the aroma of cheese dances around my nostrils.  Cheezzzz.  I cannot wait! Cheeeezzzz.... My hand searches the drawer for a cheese cutter, or a knife.  Even a butter knife will do.  Cheeeeezzzzz....  I can't find it.  Cheeezzzzz.... I simply cannot comprehend the problem.  Cheese?  I stand there half asleep.  What is the next logical step?  My head bobs up again.  Cheese.  How much do I want cheese?  I want cheese.  My body wants sleep. I want cheese.  Can't find knife.  I want cheese.  I snort chuckle as my brain flashes the solution in a memory.  I hesitate.  Its just me.  Want cheese.  Why not?  With a content tummy, I smile at my own silliness.  I shuffle body plop back on the bed.  I could faintly hear the echo mother's voice long ago...."Okay, who took a bite out of the cheese?"

For some reason, I have been humming the song "I'm Popeye the sailor man....I live in a garbage can (I never learned the correct words) I eats me spinach until me be finished (again...never learned), I'm Popeye the sailor man...Toot toot!"  Now WHY I have this particular a tune in my head, I have no idea.  Probably some word association or connection with spinach.  Who knows.  As a kid, I loved watching this cartoon.  I don't understand my rational, but I was fascinated with Olive Oyl.   I never understood why two grown men would fight over such a chicken scratch voice, clown feet, gangly toothpick, where other shows clearly indicated the beautiful curvacious female was worthy of male attention. 

Still, week after week, Bluto would steal Olive away, and Popeye would eat his spinach for his strength (his pipe smoking issue was never addressed) and he would punch Brutus with one swift circular motion that sent him flying.    Sometimes Popeye had to use his detective powers to determine who had taken Olive.  Wasn't it obvious?  When I got older, and occasionally viewed Popeye's continual dilemma of never really obtaining the girl of his dreams (yes, still the toothpick), I realized Olive Oyl was not the sweet, innocent character she tried to portray.  In fact, she enjoyed playing the two men against each other.  I wondered, does she treat these men this way to help her feel important?  Does she play helpless so Popeye can 'be a man' and save her? 

Olive Oyl was the game master, the two men were the smitten players: both desperately vying for her love.   Both men demonstrated a lower intelligence, at least in relationships.  Popeye's solution was to allow Olive Oyl to berate him as she saw fit, and to demonstrate his strength and worthiness with pure muscle.  Bluto had muscle too, perhaps more in his belly, but he didn't have the infamous secret weapon: spinach.  Maybe if Bluto had slimmed up he could have outran danger...that pipe had to be destroying Popeye's lungs.  Popeye was so addicted that he sometimes smoked the spinach, or used his pipe to pour the spinach down his throat, straight out of the can...yelch!  How did Popeye have the strength to squeeze open the cans of spinach? Was muscles only in the arms considered attractive?  Does one only become strong if they take a something that surges them with immediate power, which eventually dissolves (steroids)? 

Bluto's tactic in winning Olives heart was to steal her away.  He gave her gifts, which honestly seemed more sincere, where Olive used it as a means to infuse jealousy in Popeye.  When Bluto saw his efforts were failing, he tried the next best thing, steal her away.  Unfortunately he was so concerned of keeping her from Popeye, he never developed a relationship with Olive.

Today, one could suppose many symbols to this little drama.  One might say that "Olive Oyl" or rather olive oil goes best with spinach.  Or, one might see this a means to encourage kids to consume their vegetables.  It never convinced me.  One might say that the so called love triangle was an ingenious tactic by Olive to install desire and commitment in Popeye.   Hmm.  Did it work?  I don't know if she ever married Popeye.  She did have a child named Sweet Pea, but was that a child from a prior relationship?  Or was Olive Oyl missing a sense of morality in her sweet demeanor?  With her manipulative prowess, it wouldn't surprise me.  Of course, the cartoon keeps that matter hush, hush.

The point is, this show still makes an interesting statement regarding male-female relationships in society. 

Some of Popeye the sailor man messages:

I agree:  Olive Oyl - Beauty comes in all forms, shapes and sizes. It starts within the beheld before seen by a beholder.

Disagree:  Olive Oyl - When others fight over you, it means you are extra important. 

Disagree:  Olive Oyl - The best way to get a man to commit is through jealousy and competition (manipulation).

Disagree: Popeye - The best way to win a woman's heart is through violence.   If you allow her to berate or beat you, that is true love.
Agree/Disagree: Bluto - the best way to win a woman's heart is through spending individual time with her.  The best way to do this is hold her against her will.
Disagree:  Popeye - It is okay to take something that will make you immediately stronger if it is for a good cause.
Disagree:  Olive Oyl - It is okay to manipulate men to get what you want.
My advise to Popeye and Bluto (though both need their heads examined too) is to simply dump the chick and flee.

So, last year was TOUGH.  It was one of THE most painful time in my life; no exaggeration.   I have never felt my heart experience such extreme wrenching, I am amazed that I managed to be formed into a new shape by the refiners fire instead of dripping away as dross.  But, it was necessary, and I am so grateful that I had (and still do) the gospel to carry me through.  Even though I struggled, I hope that I also gained new insight, a truer heart and a deeper commitment to my devotion to Heavenly Father.  The fire not only shined me up a little, it also nourished me.  I am emerging with more personal strength than maybe I have had before.  At least, I hope so.  I desperately want to retain what I have learned.

I do know that I missed me...if that makes any sense.  I find myself laughing again, and 'cracking myself up' again.  I am rediscovering that life does exist outside of my world, and that it is in constant "busy-ness".   I am eager to join life's' activity and add my song of laughter.  I am optimistic that I will be blessed to find a good job.  I am optimistic that I will be blessed to reach some personal goals.   I am even optimistic that maybe, just maybe, my personal relationships with the male species will improve!  (I am sure I will have more commentary on this down the road).  I don't think I was emotionally capable of achieving anything last year, other than to just survive.  This year will be different!

So everyone, keep me in your prayers.  Continue to remind me that you love me...I need to hear that now and then.  And I thank you for already doing so.  You truly are my friends, and I am so blessed to have you in my life.