Saren wanted to practice taking pictures so, I obliged, and I think I must have been the best model that she ever had because who else can make faces like this? (You can see more later when she edits them in six months):
"Affection is responsible for nine-tenths of whatever solid and durable happiness there is in our lives."C.S. Lewis"For I know that this shall turn to my salvation through your prayer, and the supply of the Spirit of Jesus Christ, According to my earnest expectation and my hope, that in nothing I shall be ashamed, but that with all boldness, as always, so now also Christ shall be magnified in my body, whether it be by life, or by death."Paul, Philippians
Amanda Pew's Amazing Corn Salsa Recipe
4--5 Roma Tomatoes
1 avocado
1 can corn (drained)
1 can black-eyed peas (rinsed and drained)
1/2 bunch green onions (6--7)
1--2 T cilantro
1 pkg Good Seasons Italian Dressing mixed according to directions
Chop everything as small as possible; it is best served cold.
Announcing--an exciting theme change!
I'm doing a slight theme alteration for the summer and maybe into next school year as well and it is (drum roll, please): BEK'S RECIPES: AN ANALYSIS OF DREAMS.
Bravo, bravo! I know, it was good, wasn't it?
New Scene
Bridget, Saren's sister who rents downstairs, has two adorable, brown-eyed midgets who I've been able to play with a little bit. Boston, who is three, is endless in energy, and he won't eat pretty much ANYTHING except for pretzels and gold fish. He even wouldn't eat anything when they refused to give him "fishies" for like a day and a half, so she gave in. He stopped eating cookies too when his mom started putting vitamins in them.
I guess because I'm here, Boston has assumed that I am "Aunt Bekah." It's a pretty safe assumption considering he has an Aunt Sharyti, Aunt Saren, and an Aunt Ananda upstairs too. Why wouldn't I be his aunt too?
Tag (still not used to that name...) is the fattest happiest little baby you could ever see. He likes to blow raspberries, drool all over himself in long strings, and laugh hysterically all the time.
Back to the Slave Work
I got offered another husband yesterday. There are plenty of people willing to give me husbands, just not necessarily guys who are willing to date me... Honestly, if we still believed in arranged marriages--I would have no problems in finding someone! If we were still doing that, I'd have to be turning down some of those guys...
Anyways, out of the blue one of my loud, Hispanic managers shouts to me, "Hey, do you have a boyfriend?"
Me: "Ha ha, no."
Lady, suggestively: "Oh, really? I have a su-u-on!"
(Everybody laughs.)
Lady: "How old are you?"
Me: "Twenty."
Lady: "He's nineteen." I make an "well,-that's-not-unreasonably-younger-face,-but-yeah-right,-lady" face and she says, "I promise I would be a good mother-in-law."
Me (smiling and shrugging): "Okay."
Lady: "What's your name!?"
Me: "Rebekah."
Lady: "His name is Jason!"
(I nod, and from this yelling across tables thing, most of the people at my work know my name now).
Again, it's not the first time I've been offered to get engaged to a man by someone besides the dude himself. Hannah's offered to get me married to her friend's older brother, my mom wants me to marry an unknown-first-named Elder Curtis, and the guy who gave me my patriarchal blessing gave me a sales-pitch (he did a good job, too--you can't doubt a patriarch's word) for his grandson that I have never met.
So, if anybody else wants to give me some other options, please let me know.
Yes, so I'm back to slave work with the other, poor, hardly-English-speaking elderly people and we're folding and stickering boxes again, but it's only a few times a week, so I'm really hoping somewhere I actually want to work starts hiring soon...
The Night's Dream Analysis
I'm reading a psychology book, and in it it was talking about analyzing your dreams, and looking for patterns in them; considering the kind of bezerk dreams that I have, I thought my dreams analyses might be very interesting, so I am going to start recording them and analyzing them here.
What I remember from my dream last night:
DREAM #1: My cousin Lindsey came over and was talking about some week long vacation she was going on and--did I want to come? And I was like, yeah, if I'm not working by then--or if I can start working after. Then I was called by B.B.S.I. (my sort-of job right now) and they told me I wasn't qualified to do the work I had applied for. When I asked them why, they told me they wanted someone with business and data entry skill and then I argued that I had those skills, and there was an awkward pause as the guy listened to my emotional shpeel... emotional shpeels aren't very proffesional...
The next part of the dream that I remember was that an Ariel-Little-Mermaid-type of girl was trying to make this rich, snobby girl behave in a princessly manner. There was also this ragamuffin Indian guy who liked the snob, and then some silly princely Feebus kindof character too. The snobbish girl was going to take a bath with fluffy, hippo slippers too. I guess they were an old kindof childhood attachment. At one point in the dream, our Ariel princess laid on the ground and stared up at the sky and said, "There is no way this girl will ever be a princess."
Dream #1 Analysis: I'd rather like to hang-out with Lindsey and go traveling somewhere. I hate job-searching and I have a revenge-complex against my old job. My life is starved of romance, and I wish I had a ragamuffin Indian/Lamanite man. I have a recurring terror of animals eating me, evident in the appearance of the dreaded purple (least favorite color) hippo (much-hated animal) slippers (suffocating and representing a state of boredom in my life).
There, don't you think I could write a book exploring my mind?... Maybe a blog's enough...
Announcing--an exciting theme change!
I'm doing a slight theme alteration for the summer and maybe into next school year as well and it is (drum roll, please): BEK'S RECIPES: AN ANALYSIS OF DREAMS.
Bravo, bravo! I know, it was good, wasn't it?
New Scene
Bridget, Saren's sister who rents downstairs, has two adorable, brown-eyed midgets who I've been able to play with a little bit. Boston, who is three, is endless in energy, and he won't eat pretty much ANYTHING except for pretzels and gold fish. He even wouldn't eat anything when they refused to give him "fishies" for like a day and a half, so she gave in. He stopped eating cookies too when his mom started putting vitamins in them.
I guess because I'm here, Boston has assumed that I am "Aunt Bekah." It's a pretty safe assumption considering he has an Aunt Sharyti, Aunt Saren, and an Aunt Ananda upstairs too. Why wouldn't I be his aunt too?
Tag (still not used to that name...) is the fattest happiest little baby you could ever see. He likes to blow raspberries, drool all over himself in long strings, and laugh hysterically all the time.
Back to the Slave Work
I got offered another husband yesterday. There are plenty of people willing to give me husbands, just not necessarily guys who are willing to date me... Honestly, if we still believed in arranged marriages--I would have no problems in finding someone! If we were still doing that, I'd have to be turning down some of those guys...
Anyways, out of the blue one of my loud, Hispanic managers shouts to me, "Hey, do you have a boyfriend?"
Me: "Ha ha, no."
Lady, suggestively: "Oh, really? I have a su-u-on!"
(Everybody laughs.)
Lady: "How old are you?"
Me: "Twenty."
Lady: "He's nineteen." I make an "well,-that's-not-unreasonably-younger-face,-but-yeah-right,-lady" face and she says, "I promise I would be a good mother-in-law."
Me (smiling and shrugging): "Okay."
Lady: "What's your name!?"
Me: "Rebekah."
Lady: "His name is Jason!"
(I nod, and from this yelling across tables thing, most of the people at my work know my name now).
Again, it's not the first time I've been offered to get engaged to a man by someone besides the dude himself. Hannah's offered to get me married to her friend's older brother, my mom wants me to marry an unknown-first-named Elder Curtis, and the guy who gave me my patriarchal blessing gave me a sales-pitch (he did a good job, too--you can't doubt a patriarch's word) for his grandson that I have never met.
So, if anybody else wants to give me some other options, please let me know.
Yes, so I'm back to slave work with the other, poor, hardly-English-speaking elderly people and we're folding and stickering boxes again, but it's only a few times a week, so I'm really hoping somewhere I actually want to work starts hiring soon...
The Night's Dream Analysis
I'm reading a psychology book, and in it it was talking about analyzing your dreams, and looking for patterns in them; considering the kind of bezerk dreams that I have, I thought my dreams analyses might be very interesting, so I am going to start recording them and analyzing them here.
What I remember from my dream last night:
DREAM #1: My cousin Lindsey came over and was talking about some week long vacation she was going on and--did I want to come? And I was like, yeah, if I'm not working by then--or if I can start working after. Then I was called by B.B.S.I. (my sort-of job right now) and they told me I wasn't qualified to do the work I had applied for. When I asked them why, they told me they wanted someone with business and data entry skill and then I argued that I had those skills, and there was an awkward pause as the guy listened to my emotional shpeel... emotional shpeels aren't very proffesional...
The next part of the dream that I remember was that an Ariel-Little-Mermaid-type of girl was trying to make this rich, snobby girl behave in a princessly manner. There was also this ragamuffin Indian guy who liked the snob, and then some silly princely Feebus kindof character too. The snobbish girl was going to take a bath with fluffy, hippo slippers too. I guess they were an old kindof childhood attachment. At one point in the dream, our Ariel princess laid on the ground and stared up at the sky and said, "There is no way this girl will ever be a princess."
Dream #1 Analysis: I'd rather like to hang-out with Lindsey and go traveling somewhere. I hate job-searching and I have a revenge-complex against my old job. My life is starved of romance, and I wish I had a ragamuffin Indian/Lamanite man. I have a recurring terror of animals eating me, evident in the appearance of the dreaded purple (least favorite color) hippo (much-hated animal) slippers (suffocating and representing a state of boredom in my life).
There, don't you think I could write a book exploring my mind?... Maybe a blog's enough...
No comments:
Post a Comment