Busy!

I don't know what boredom feels like anymore. (Well, really, I don't know if people should get bored past reading age . . .) There is just so much to do lately -- professionally and personally. Work is okay, and I'd rather be busy than not, but I do have a lot going on with various projects. Personally, I have a lot going on in my head and at home and at church. It just feels like there's not enough time in the day sometimes! (Is that why I'm not getting enough sleep? Because I'm sort of making time by not going to bed?)

My natural inclination is to just forget about everything and read. Read The Count till my heart's content. (I'm almost done!) But I can't. I have to be an adult and get stuff done. And I know that really, the best thing to do when I am busy, is to just do! Check off things from my list!

But apart from doing, what helps you, readers? How do you manage life when it seems unmanageable? Or when you seem like you just can't keep it together?

I'm talking about practical advice here. Are there things you do each day that help you? Are there Web resources? Are there more helpful tools from that company that makes superb to-do notepads? (Yes! Yes, there are! Thank goodness for the Internets. Check out knockknock.biz now!)

If you can think of anything, please -- comment! By all means, comment!


Thing I'm thankful for: downtime

Something Cute

For various reasons, I was sort of bummed this morning, so I thought I'd post a picture that makes me smile and hope that it might make you smile, too.

I just took this picture from the Internet, but I could've taken a photo similar to it, when I was 6- or 7-years old. That's when my family had Samoyeds. Bomber and Snowy. Bomber and Snowy had one set of extremely adorable puppies that all looked like white balls of fluff, similar to the one you see here. We tied blue-ribbon collars around the boys' necks and pink around the girls.' I think the ribbons had white polka dots on them, too . . . (I grew up in a very arts and crafty type of home.)

Anyway, those puppies. Those puppies were the thrill of my childhood. I loved them so much. When I was going through my things at MommyDaddy's, I found more than one journal entry devoted to those little doggies. In my youthful and sloppy handwriting, I had written all about how Bomber and Snowy had puppies and how later, Bomber had gotten hit by a car and died.

I didn't write about how my mom sold the puppies or that she eventually sold Snowy. (I really don't understand why she sold Snowy.) All I know is that I loved those Samoyeds, and I think they're some of the prettiest dogs around. They were part of our family for maybe 5 years, so it's sort of amazing to me that I still have a soft spot for those crazy loud dogs.

But just look at that picture! Isn't it the cutest?


Thing I'm thankful for: the warmth of sunshine after sitting in a cold building.

Weekend of Firsts

My weekend can be summed up in four words: high anxiety and sweaty palms. (That's right, folks; my hands sweat. I'll post more on this later.)

Before I tell you what my "firsts" were, I'll preface the list by saying that I am not a performer. I have stage fright. My mind often goes blank in front of an audience. I blush. A lot. Why, then, did I sign up for these things, you ask? Because I have always thought my shyness was a negative trait and constantly try to overcome it. I'm also too resistant to change and don't like to step outside my comfort zone, but what is this life about, if not to improve oneself and the world in general?

Plus, I like to make people laugh.

So without further ado, here's the list of firsts I accomplished this weekend:

• Donated blood to the American Red Cross.
  I learned a little about phlebotomy, including how to spell it! :/
  
• Performed in a church talent show.
  In between acts, I impersonated eight people in my ward. I was so nervous that I wanted to quit as soon as I began. But I didn't. Apparently, I was funny. Phew!
• Ate a Bic Mac.
  I know, I know! Who hasn't done this at my age? What can I say? I'm a flexitarian!
• Sang in a trio in church.
  I forgot my very first note and messed up the beginning of the song. (Sorry, Brandy and Holly!) I quit singing for a while, but jumped back in on the second verse. I think we ended strong. I hope.
  
• Sang tenor in said trio.
  (An octave higher) I learned that it is extremely difficult to sing tenor when you're used to soprano. I now have more respect for people who sing harmony.
  

All in all, I think it was a scary, but good weekend. I feel like a better person for it. :)


Thing I'm thankful for: primary songs.

Pro Chocolate: Resurrected

I've been blogging lately, but not on Busy Nothings.

I have another blog called Pro Chocolate, and I hadn't written on it since 2007. The chocolate theme was really starting to frustrate me because it was so restrictive. A few months ago, though, I decided that it could be a general food and baking blog. One that is "pro chocolate." But that doesn't mean I can't also write about food that isn't chocolate!

Without further ado, then, here are my recent posts:
The King and I
Whole Grain Mac 'n' Cheese!


Thing I'm thankful for: sunny afternoons

My Mind = Blown

I was perusing msn.com today, and I saw this headline:
Robot used to perform heart surgery.

What?!?

There's also this:
Path to patient's heart: The wrist.

I'm completely dumbfounded. I have two thoughts when I see videos like this:

1. I should have finished my biology degree and gone to medical school, as planned.
2. Humans are amazing.

The first thought comes and goes on an occasional basis. The second thought is constant, but more pronounced (sometimes to the point of tears) when I learn about things like improvements in health science and technology.


Thing I'm thankful for: antiseptics!

My Free Associations, Part 2

A long time ago, I wrote a post about my first name and My Free Associations to it. I promised to do the same with my last name, and finally, I did. I don't think it turned out as good, but what can I say? I was associating freely. I didn't plan it, and this is what came out:

Snow. Fluffy, white, pure, angelic snow. Every time I see it, I think of my last name and how I never actually want to give it up when I am married. Now that I am older and still single, I wonder whether I will have to give it up, and that prospect makes me want to.

Most of the Snows I've met are pale and blonde. We have high, round cheeks and big eyes. We are not huge people, but we are tall and strong. We literally have big heads. And we are also Snow-it-alls.

When I was in elementary school, my classmates would say, "Make it snow, Sara! Make it snow!" They made these commands on cold and windy winter days, hoping that school would be canceled the next day. I remember pretending to be annoyed. The prospect of getting out of work when it begins to snow still gives me a thrill. Forget about the car accident I caused on a snowy evening in 2008. The positive things about snow overshadow the depressing ones by far: snow angels; snow ball fights; snow forts; being tackled in the snow and tackling back. My favorite thing about snow happens to be a narcissistic reason, though. Falling snow forces people to think about me. I'm ashamed to admit that I love it.

Thing I'm thankful for: talking to people much older than me.

Good-bye, MommyDaddy and Good-bye, House

I'm like my dad -- sentimental. In fact, I think I'm a pack rat, not because I inherited the trait from my mom, but because I'm sentimental, like my dad. My mom collects and holds onto things because she thinks she might need them in the future. I collect and hold onto things because I attach so much meaning to them. I recognize the problem in this, and yet I still have about 20 boxes of stuff from my parents' house: clothes, school papers, books, toys, and crafts. It's ridiculous, really, that one person can acquire so many things in 28 years of life.

I went through all 20+ boxes of things a week ago. I threw out a lot. I went through my "childhood" and remembered a lot of silly things. My family went through a lot of boxes and piles of things from the last two decades (and some older) and laughed and yelled and pared down. We put what was left into two big trucks and sent my parents packing. They started for Texas last night around 11:00. For most of the day, I felt fine (apart from this yucky cold) because I was working hard. But when we were all sitting on or standing around the stairs, and my dad said one final prayer in that house, I started to lose it. I opened my eyes after the "amen," and Summer and mom were crying, too. Clay and Brooks were fine, of course, and Lily was, too. Macy was shy, and I think she had watery eyes. I have never seen my dad cry, and although last night was no exception, I think it's the closest I've ever seen him get. I've never said good-bye to my parents without knowing when I might see them again -- a luxury that a lot of people don't have in life. I am perhaps immature for my age . . . At any rate, it was hard to say good-bye.

"Are you going to write a sad post on your blog?" Brooks asked, as I was taking pictures of our empty house.
"Maybe."

And so maybe I am. But I want to remember how I felt at that moment. We had a lot of good times in this house, Brooks, and even though you are not as attached to things as me (and I think that's a rare and divine quality), I am. I am a sentimentalist, and here are the memories of 85 Mountain Brook Drive that I am sentimental about:

• Summer and Clay were married in the living room.
• We found Lucky and Forrest while we were just moving into the house.
• Lexi and I camped out with the kittens on the deck one night.
  
• I had my first dates -- I remember sitting in the driveway having long chats with silly boys. (And yes, they were just chats.)
• Mom dropped Blake's CDs down the stairs, and they all broke.
• Lily fell down the stairs.
  
• "SHAKE IT!"
• Brooks and Blake went on missions. Mom had missionary stuff all over the place for three years.
• Blake painting the 18' walls and trim.
  
• Lindsey's first Christmas as a newlywed.
  
• The "river" in the backyard that didn't dry up for a long time.
• The never-ending battle against opossums.
• Lily's first steps in the living room.
• Lily's first haircut. Oops!
• Mom's cancer.
• Burying Forrest on the hill.
  
• Countless phone calls while dad was the branch president.
• Watching "The Wizard of Oz" and listening to Pink Floyd as a family. (I think dad was out of town.)
• Waking mom up from nightmares while dad was out of town.
• Playing with Sam in the backyard.
• Playing with Shelley and Jodi after school.
• Painting Lexi's room purple.
• Painting my room apple green. Mom hated it.
• Helping Summer and Clay put puzzles together in her room.
• Brooks sleeping on the floor after his mission.
• Mom's craft room.
• Dad's cave.

Mostly I remember the people that came and went in that house. A lot of them stayed in our lives for good -- the best ones are Clay, Lindsey, Jacki, and Adam.

Anyway, it was a good house and a good 16 years of living in it.
MommyDaddy, I will miss it, and I will miss you in it. We all had some crazy fights in there, but I think you both did a good job of making it a home that I cherish.

I love you!
Have fun in TEXAS!
Make better memories there!


Thing I'm thankful for: my family.