Saturday, June 25, 2011

Feeling a little.. domestic?

I have no idea what is coming over me. Lately, I have started washing clothes without thinking of the billions of things I'd rather be doing, and I even ironed a shirt for birthday festivities at my house! What are these feeling and how do I cope? I am not sure how to mentally process the transfiguration of the tasks I once found daunting and humdrum to being agreeable. This maybe be presumptuous of me but I am almost positive people my age do not find ironing agreeable.

My interest in ironing has heightened with my discovery of ruffles, and I blame all the other domestic/nesting feelings on getting ready to go off to school. (I credit everything to moving off to school these days.)

I used to iron a little with my hair straightener. Now, I use the big girl iron!!
I am very proud of my ironing today... in case you couldn't tell.

Thursday, June 23, 2011

Mystery Man Hair Day

Disclaimer: I loved this job. No smearing here.

For almost two years, I worked at a local grocery store famous for having pretty crazy characters. They have to remain nameless on this blog, but the whole community knows their name.. However, this gentleman (should I call him that?) was a complete mystery man. I had never seen him before and have not seen him since.

I was fronting (definition:bringing forward/stacking certain items on the store to make them look pretty) the mayonnaise when I saw a shadow hanging over me. I just kind of sat there. He did not say "excuse me" or "I'm just going to reach over you". He was as still as I was. Was I freaked out? Yes. He got closer, closer, closer, and finally took a deep breathe through his nostrils.

Mystery man just smelled my hair.

Then Mystery Man left without getting anything off the shelf. I was dumbfounded. All that and he did not even buy anything? Was this real life? I looked around; the store was eerily vacant for this time of day. I almost did not believe myself. Surely I tricked myself.. but I totally heard/felt him smell my hair. He was that close. I paused to gather my composure.. nobody would believe me if I told them. For the rest of the day, I had to pretend like nothing had happened. It was difficult.

I still wonder if my hair smelled good that day. I hope it did because I cannot remember the shampoo I used on Mystery Man Hair Day.

Wednesday, June 22, 2011

Sweet Babushka, I suprised us both.

Somewhere along the way to Poltava, Ukraine...

Trying to stay awake had been difficult after an extremely long flight. Sure, I had my team/friends on the marshrutka to talk to or play games with but nothing stayed amusing for long. We had been awake for roughly over 24ish hours. We had been given various forms of caffeine, mainly Coke, to stay awake. Boy, did I drink that Coke. Our assignment was to fight the jet lag and stay awake as long as possible. I just had to stay awake! I not only had my own Coke, but as much of anybody else's Coke that I could. To much avail, I dozed off...

Next thing I know we are parked. I was terribly shaky and confused since I had woken up so abruptly. After I figured out I was in Ukraine, I realized I had to go to the bathroom really bad. Fortunately for me, we had stopped to go to the bathroom. PRAISE THE LORD. I jumped off the bus, Charmin-to-go in hand, and was warned to stay where I was. (I may be almost twenty and claim to be an adult, but in my enthusiasm, I can make some immature decisions.) I was doing a hardcore potty dance as the team and I cross the road. I just really had to go.

As I walked into the bathroom with part of my team, I started having horrible flashbacks. These were squatty potties. The last time I squatted was years ago when I went camping in Utah. I had no problem squatting and going to the bathroom, but it ended up all over my pants and myself. Worse than that, my soiled clothes were aired out by the campfire. I had not forgotten this experience and knew THIS time would be different. I would conquer the squatting. Eager to prove to myself a capable squatter, I busted into the second stall from the right (yes, I remember), only to find an old lady, or babushka, using that toilet.

Those few seconds seemed like an eternity. The language barrier had shattered and I knew exactly what her looks 'said'. She looked angry, shocked, perplexed, and embarrassed. I mean, was I supposed to knock? Peek under the stall for little feet? I couldn't ask if anybody was in there...

As quickly as I opened the door, I slammed it shut and ran to hide behind the nearest body in an attempt to hide myself. I was graciously allowed the next stall available. Now I encountered the problem of relaxing. The whole scene was on replay in my mind. I could hear little giggles. Then I began to picture my clothes airing out to dry on the bus because I missed the hole.. talk about even more humiliation. I thought it couldn't get any worse. I was just too tense! Relax. Relax. Relax. I just stood there, kept telling myself to relax, and doing as much self-encouraging I could while I thought my bladder might bust within me. I'm guessing someone knew I was having technical difficulties and they told me to sing my ABC's. At this point, anything was worth a try.. so I slowly started signing and...

(without any mess!)

I think of myself as a champion at squatty potties after that incident.
I also remained very cautious in bathroom situations for the rest of the trip.