If I'm Lyin', I'm Dyin'...I Mean, If I Meet a Lion...I'll Likely Be Dyin'...

When I was little, I used to dream of scary gargantuan bugs attacking me. There was the one with the giant daddy-long-leg that took over our food storage room in our basement in Wisconsin. And of course, the one dubbed "Attack of the Killer Bumble-Bees." I've had a problem with bees and their relatives ever since.

I still dream about bugs, especially in my bug-littered home, but lately I've moved on to bigger predators.

In the last 2 1/2 weeks, I have had 3 dreams involving giant lions trying to attack me. At night. In random wildernesses and jungles.

Okay, technically the 1st dream had a nice giant lion that just wanted its tummy scratched, and it was a stalking panther that wanted to eat me. And I was in a jungle campsite - for church camp or something ridiculous. And my mom wouldn't let me run away and go home, saying I was paranoid...until it attack my sister (sorry Abby...), and my mom finally realized I was wise for respecting and fearing the danger of the panther camouflaged in the darkness.

And okay, technically the second dream took place in some cul de sac - the suburb jungle. And it was asleep, but it was sleeping right where I needed to be at. And sure it started out during daytime, but night quickly descended. I woke up at 3am convinced that lion was in my room, on the other side of my bed. So scary...

The third dream might've been the scariest, because there were multiple lions, creeping out of the nighttime fog. But on the plus side, I was also apparently an expert horseman, and I had a gigantic midnight-black horse - about 7 ft tall (honestly) - that I was able to easily swing myself onto and ride with ease, kind of like a stuffed horse when you're a child. I remember being rather impressed with myself in my dream as well. Those lions were really scary, and I had to kick the horse into running full-speed to get away from the lions as they jumped out of the mist.

Each time, I woke up legitimately fearing a scary lion that was possibly under my bed. Monsters aren't the only things that lurk down there.

I told roommate Melissa about each of them after they occurred; after the 3rd time, I confessed that I might be developing an actual fear of lions. I even had to beat down the fleeting fear of seeing a lion hanging out on my street as I left my house to go to work the next day. Can you say LOCO?

Being the thoughtful roommate M is, she quickly tried to calm my fears with pictures of lions and lambs, people befriending lions, and one idiot who lived with lions in a zoo for a few weeks to raise money for charity. I don't know why, but a picture of a huge lion licking the head of a powerless man as he gets ready to go to sleep just doesn't make me more comfortable with the beasts:

But my favorite thing M tried to do for me was googling "how to get over your fear of lions." You know, so I could get over my newfound fear.

Turns out, there is an article on WikiHow called, "How To Get Over Your Fear of Lions." How perfect!

To be honest, I got nothing out of this article likely written by a young student for a 4th grade presentation or something (hopefully!) beyond the 5 suggestions of going to the zoo and seeing/interacting with/feeding the lions there - unless I would like to go on a safari and see them in their natural environment. Yeah, because they weren't freaking me out enough when I was dreaming of them in their natural environment. But the final suggestion was that if I didn't want to spend money on a safari, I could go to the zoo (like was previously stated. 3 other times.) and see the lions there. Maybe talk to the trainer or something.

It was totally worth reading this article if only for this fun introduction:

HOW TO GET OVER YOUR FEAR OF LIONS:
Lions are fearless, powerful animals with sharp teeth. Lions are territorial and have been known to attack humans. For the most part they mind their own business but will attack if provoked. They are strong, fast and can destroy their enemy to shreds. Some lions are domesticated and some are wild. You have to know the difference between the two. How do you get over these fears. (Steps 1-5 follow, all discussing the zoo. No explanation of the differences between domesticated and wild lions is to be found-you just need to know it.)

Because a good reminder that lions are strong and will rip something/one to shreds is really calming me down right now.

I really think I'll sleep a LOT better tonight. Thanks WikiHow!

It's a Puzzler...

This was the puzzle for the Bonus Round on Wheel of Fortune Wednesday night:

__ __ R __ E __ __ S

__ __ __ __ __ E T

The guy asked for H M P A - none of them were in the puzzle...

Can you figure out what it is?

In under 10 seconds, like on the show?

Because I sure did! 

My roommate was a little speechless, and I might have laughed for about 10 minutes from the mental endorphins I had running through me.

Just another reason why I need to get on that show as soon as possible.

**I put the answer in the comments, so I wouldn't ruin it for anyone, but if someone cared to know, they could find out.

Close Misses and Short-Term Memory

I was running late this morning to get out of my house and make it to work on time - which is really no different than most mornings.

I quickly ran up my deathtrap stairs from the basement, saying my daily prayer that the stairs wouldn't give out and collapse like they creakingly threatened to with each step.

I swung open the door to the main floor and went to pull the door back as I passed through, when I realized the door knob I had gone to grab for was no longer connected to the door.

In the split second I had to register the fact that a heavy metal object was quickly falling to the ground where I stood, I lifted my right foot out of the way of the potential bone-crackingly dense knob, and then heard it crash hard onto the hard tile floor, 4cm to the left of my left foot.

I've learned that in situations that cause panic, my instincts are rather poor.

Why I lifted my protected right foot instead of the left foot that stood in the potential path of the object of terror is beyond me. It's about as baffling as my reaction to close my eyes to dull the clang of the knob on the tile. Honestly, I make no sense sometimes most times.

I've also learned that I don't like living in a half-broken house. One day I'll live in a fully-functioning, well-built home. And I won't appreciate it as much as I should, but I will certainly appreciate it more than other places I've lived in my life.

I shouldn't complain too much though. I do have a newly remodeled, (perpetually) almost completed kitchen, and a cute little neighborhood with a scruffy neighborhood cat I just met tonight.

And anything, anything is better than Beehive Manor, my first apartment in College - but how can you get worse than a place where one roommate moves out early because she's been placed in a mental facility, and the bathroom ceiling caves in and fills up your bathtub with insulation and ceiling particles...and then doesn't get cleaned up for 2 months? Among other problems this place had.

So while I wanted to curse at the door knob as it rolled around pathetically on the floor, instead I picked it up, expressing thanks that it didn't take my foot out when it landed, and then ran out the door, promptly forgetting all about the annoyance I had felt 30 seconds before.

That is, until I came home and found the knob laying around on the counter. Then I let my roommates know all about it. And then Roommate Melissa fixed it, and once again, we moved on.

Thank goodness for close misses and poor short-term memory.

Baby's First...Blood Drive

Today I gave of my sweet, tender blood for the first time in my life!

It just felt like a good day for service, you know?

Two finger pricks and one bandaged arm later, someone's life will now be saved.

I feel pretty good about that.

I don't feel pretty good about the fact that my two pricked fingers are still sore. The nurse wasn't kidding when he said that was the worst part.

Apparently my middle left finger is iron-deficient. It failed to clear the 12.5 minimum limit by .4 points. I was concerned about getting the 2nd finger prick because I thought, "Why have two fingers pained just to be told I was iron deficient and couldn't give blood? That would be an ultimate fail."

Luckily, my ring finger on my left hand more than made up for it with an astounding 14 (I don't know what the measurement is, but at any rate, it was 2 points better! What the what?!), so I was cleared to get another painful stab, this time in my right arm, for a longer time. AKA, the Red Cross nurse said I could give blood.

Let me interrupt to say I was a big fan of my nurse, I appreciated him. I found out that the last person he took blood from had my same birthday (different year only), and that we're both Tauruses and lefties. We decided we must be bffs, and we planned to see each other at 'the club' tomorrow. I don't know what club he meant, and I think he intended it to stay that way...at any rate, we had a nice time chatting and laughing, and he was very willing to give me pity for my two achy pricked fingers, which I appreciated.

Nurse Friend was also clearly impressed by my veins, which seem like they just cry for blood to be drawn from them. Being the thoughtful person he is, he chose my right arm so I could keep my left arm a little more intact, since he could sympathize with his fellow lefty here.

I was told it was usually about an average of 10 minutes to give your fill of blood. I clocked in at 7.5 minutes, which made me happy. Call me competitive, but it always feels good when you're better/faster/cooler than 50% of people nationally. Plus I had to catch up to co-worker Tyler, who was all done before I even got the needle stuck in me (P.S. I didn't watch Nurse Friend stick me - I don't have a problem per se with needles in general, but it's such a weird sight that I get a little unnerved by it just sitting there in my arm. Apparently that's another thing Nurse Friend and I have in common. It really is a weird thing, though, yeah? Am I right or am I right?).

Luckily, T gave me a little extra time to catch up to him when he blacked out in his chair after he was done. By the time the nurses let him get up and walk across the room, I was getting all cleaned up. Poor kid - he's given blood a lot in his life, so we're not really sure why he chose this time to go out. The nurse wanted to blame the necktie, because apparently a few other guys had come in and passed out, and they too had been wearing neckties. I don't buy the correlation exactly, but it's nice to have something to blame, so I'll take it.

T left work a little bit later and went home.

I gave him a mini-snicker bar before he left, for coming with me in the first place (though it was not all my idea to go give blood) and for that whole ordeal that ensued.

Thankfully, I did not pass out. I made it through - I give credit again to Nurse Friend, who let me blabber on and on about stuff to keep my mind off the whole needle/blood/loss of energy thing - and then I enjoyed a miniature box of apple juice after while I talked to T and hoped that some color would come back to his face quickly. The Red Cross Intern who sat with us was quite entertaining and enjoyable to talk to as well (plus he helped me open my apple juice - because, you know, my poor bandaged fingers couldn't figure it out, and that's why they pay interns anyway, as he said), so it was a nice little pick-me-up for a couple of minutes.

And now, I'm sitting at home, minus one finger prick bandage, but still dealing with two achy fingertips and one red-bandaged elbow that doesn't like when I straighten my arm...or when I bend it too much.

But the very minor physical discomfort (that I may even just be talking up, because who doesn't like pity?) aside, I feel excellent. It feels nice to think that at some point, my very minimal pain might help someone else who is suffering through pains that are a hundred-times worse.

I could really get into this whole Service thing. Giving feels good on Thursdays. I'll have to test it out and see if it feels just as good every other day of the week :).

Some Thoughts on a Nerd-Loaded Weeknight

Last night, I came home from work, made some delicious Texas Chili, went up to my roommate's room and watched the last 1/4 of the great PBS 25th Anniversary of the Musical - Les Miserables.

Then I helped said roommate study for her upcoming test in her online Logic class, explaining vocabulary and breaking down logical deduction problems with her.

It was maybe one of my favorite nights of the last few months.

Some thoughts from that great evening:

• Jean Valjean - A to the M to the A to the Zing. Amazing. What impressive and beautiful control of his voice. I imagine that when the director casts that part, the only thing he asks in each audition is that the guy sing the last note of any of JVJ's songs - beautifully and for as long as he can. The man who can hold the note the longest without ever hinting at running out of breath gets the part.
• I really believe those everlong notes JVJ sings are the reason for why that special was 4 hours long. FYI, totally o.k. with that.
• Why sister Abby and I always fought over who got to be Eponine, the dirty street urchin who doesn't get the boy, is beyond me. I honestly think it gave me a complex about boys and dating.
• I really, really like talking about Logic.
• I am a REALLY BIG nerd.
• Nick Jonas - not my favorite Marius, but for a kid new to Broadway and Musicals (good musicals, beyond Disney Channel yolk), he didn't do too bad. Could've been better, but quite honestly, I was expecting worse. He held his own, for the most part. Bravo, Nick Jonas - way to try something really hard and break away from the brothers. In case you're reading this, I always thought you were the cutest Jonas brother.
• It's like the French don't want any part of their history to contain anything that doesn't include carnage and bloodshed. They just couldn't catch a break.
• I'm also so proud of myself for remembering the lessons from my Logic class 2 years later - I spent enough time studying for that class, though, so those lessons might as well be tattooed in my brain at this point.
• I can't believe it's already been 2 years since that class. That means I've been graduated from College for 2 years (plus 3 months...). What a strange feeling, since I swear I'm still only 22 years old.
• It makes me sad that "Little People" always seems to get cut out of the Musical these days. But it's really a rather silly song with little importance to the overall production. So maybe I'm not too sad about it.
• I will still sing "Little People" as loud as possible, though. With a weird cockney/pauvre French accent. It's really the only way.
• Going to bed too late is obnoxious and bothersome, but totally worth it after an evening of singing Les Mis songs, working on Logic deduction, and finishing with a good roommate-to-roommate chat about life, Faith, and boys (because when does the topic of boys not make an appearance during girls' roommate-to-roommate chat?).
• I will always love Enjolras, the leader of the French students, over Marius. Strong, confident leader or indecisive, heartsick puppy dog? Enjolras all the way.

And now, friends, it's time to go study some more logic (yay!) with roommate Melissa, so she can go into her test confident and loving logic as well!

Peace, homies!

On Rain and Getting Wet

Today, when I got out of church, it was pouring outside.

When I left to go to church earlier, it was a comfortable 55 degrees, overcast, the smell of rain sitting heavy in the air. It's a smell I love, but I hoped it would hold off at least until I got to church and was safely inside the building. A girl's hair rarely appreciates the rain. We made it to church dryly, greeted only by a slight mist as we crossed the parking lot.

The rain came on strong during our last meeting, showering the windows and splashing on the ground outside - it was creating a sense of both peace and anxiety for all of us ladies sitting in Relief Society meeting. I've always thought the sound of rain was quite peaceful and relaxing, but we were all also very aware of the fact that we would soon be walking outside to the torrential downpour we were listening to.

When it was time to leave, a friend and I ran to our other friend's car after she pulled up to the curb for us. We were anxious to run out because, while the rain was bad in general, the first step past the roof overhang was like a waterfall. So we stayed as long as we could by the side of the building, until the car was as close as it could get. Then we passed as quickly as we could through the wall of water and literally jumped into the car. Another girl was coming with us and we stayed waiting at the curb for her to come out.

The 5 minutes we sat and waited might have been the funniest 5 minutes of my entire weekend. Girls were asking guys to go get their cars and pull them up, men were struggling between running out to cars and not wanting to get their dry-clean only suits wet. Girls ran out to pulled up cars, shuffling as fast as their ridiculously high heels could go, holding their hands out like they were stepping in something gross. Boys ran out to cars, looking like girls running in the rain. No one was exempt from looking completely ridiculous, and we had a good laugh as we watched people decide how to take the rain. I felt completely justified in it, since I knew I had looked that exact same way only minutes before.

As we drove home, our laughter settled into a somber quiet, as we each turned to our windows and watched the world pass by. My thoughts got lost in the gray Potomac river and misty clouds to the side of the road.

Between standing in the dry doorway of the church and sitting in the car as I watched the rain come down, I was reminded just how much I love watching the rain.

When I was little, I loved sitting in the garage with the door up, sitting on a lawn chair or a mound of blankets on the floor, watching the rain come down just feet from where I was. I loved staying dry, but being able to stick my hand out in front of me and feel the rain come down. Sometimes I would bring a book out to read, but oftentimes I'd just sit and let the sound and smell of the rain drift me into a complete daze. It was so calming to me.

I got home and quickly realized we were on the wrong side of the townhouse to be able to enjoy the rain from our doorway. Our welcome mat soaked through, I shoved my key in the lock and jumped inside. But I left our main door open for a bit longer and stared out the screen door, watching the puddles dance with each raindrop that fell. No thoughts ran through my mind, no color escaped the gray blanket over the neighborhood, no sounds rose above the pitter-patter on the ground. I was quite content. It was as though the world had stopped for awhile, resting, getting renewal from the fresh rain. I quite enjoyed it, and felt the renewal run through me as well.

I had a great weekend of refreshment, of physical, mental, and spiritual replenishing. I feel quite revitalized, and ready for Spring.