Z is for...

zzzzzzzzzzz

Yeah, that's me sleeping. I'm tired of trying to find a word that would trigger a whole entry that is halfway interesting. I thought about talking about the fact that I like to sleep, but that's pretty much covered in my N post. I thought about talking about Zurich, the first European city I've ever been to, but I was just in the airport, so it technically doesn't even count. I thought about zoology and my love of animals, but I realized that I've already talked about my dogs. I even was thinking about "zone" for awhile, and how I get in the zone with one interest or hobby and kind of forget all others, but it just didn't flow. When searching for z words, I even found another set of bones with 'process' in the name: zygomatic process (cheekbones). Nice.

So, even though I wanted my last post to end with a bang, it's not going to. These last few letters have really stretched the limits of my imagination. No wonder they are at the end of the alphabet. They're fun and all, but when coming up with words that start with them, I think they got left in the dust.

So, if you made it through to Z, thanks for listening....er...reading. Now, I'm on the hunt for my next bit of blog motivation...

Y is for...

Yard-apes

This one is dedicated to my lurking Uncle Na. He reads and never comments. Oh yeah, that's right. I know you're there, punk...

This is his and my uncle Darren's term for their nieces and nephews.

This word reminds me of my childhood and family get-togethers. My mom has five brothers, so I have lots of cousins on her side of the family and when we were young, we got together a lot. Most of us were spaced in age by only a year or two, so there was usually someone we could play with. The boys would go off and dig a giant hole. The girls would go off and play house or Barbies. Or some of us girls would chase the boys around and try to be included. And every get together would usually include a wrestling session on the living room floor with my two dorky uncles. We all would gang up on one or both of them and feebly try to bring them down. I have a little bit of pity for them now thinking about all the screaming brats climbing all over them. I wonder how many bruises they could count when they went back home.

One thing I particularly remember is how my Uncle Na would "turn his eyes inside out" so that you could see the red inside of his eyelid. He would run around like this scaring all of us. I was one of the younger cousins at the time and I tended to be more "delicate" then the other ones. It would really scare me when he did this, so he would take pity on me and throw me up on his shoulders so I could participate, but not actually look at him.

As we grew up, we developed new games to play. One summer, right before Na left to go back to CA, he brought us all outside and whipped out three Super-Soakers from the back of the pickup and started a water fight. I think he was trying to lighten the mood as him leaving always inevitably brought tears. And now, every other Christmas when he comes up to MT, the tradition is to sit down and play the Farming Game nonstop all throughout the night. We always have the same game pieces and we ALWAYS have Metallica on in the background set to repeat.

Now, both of my "younger" uncles have little girls of their own. I'm sad for my little cousins that they will miss out on those big Davis get-togethers with all the cousins. But, on the other hand, they are just as lucky as we were because they get the experience of having my dorky uncles as their own dorky dads.

X is for...

Come on!!! X??? Do we really have to do this one??

Really? Ok.

Xylophone.
They are pretty. And they make pretty sounds. Although, I've never played one. Except the plastic-y play ones you get when you're a kid.

So I guess that doesn't really fit. Moving on....

Xanthic.
I'm a little yellowish, I guess. In color and demeanor. I'm scared of the sun. That makes me "yella" in two way right there.

Xerox.
I remember xeroxing things in grade school and high school on those old blue xerox machines. The blue stuff would get all over your fingers and all over the pages. I got to use the xerox machines a lot in school. I was one of those brown-nosers that was always helping out the teachers before and after school. I was a modern day version of the little girl in ringlets that always clapped the erasers after school for Miss Beadle.

Xiphoid process
Coolest body part name. Ever. Naming a part of the body with a verb is wonderfully confusing. Anatomy wasn't NEARLY as difficult to remember already...
I had a fear in my CPR class in college that if I ever performed CPR on someone, I would break their xyphoid process. It's just a tiny little bone sticking out there ready to be snapped off! The instructor said that a few broken bones are normal for someone that has had CPR done to them. Ok, as if performing CPR isn't freaky enough, now you have to do it with lovely crunching bones accompaniment. Fantastic.

X-ray
The only thing I've had x-rayed are my teeth. I've never had a broken bone (besides a questionable incident with my little toe.) There's something informational about me! Besides teeth, I've never had surgeries or x-rays. Fascinating, eh?

Ok. End of lame attempt at an entry about me. X sux.

W is for...

Wishful

I wish that days were longer.

I wish workdays were shorter.
~
I wish I could get paid for taking naps.

I wish I didn't like to sleep so much.
~
I wish people weren't so mean.

I wish I could love people more...especially the mean ones.

I wish I wasn't so mean.
~
I wish I was about 30 lbs lighter (and that's not even greedy, as I could afford to lose 50.)

I wish vegetables and fried foods would swap nutritional facts.

I wish watching TV and running would swap calorie-burning-rates.
~
I wish I could finish things I start.

I wish my scrapbook would finish itself.
~
I wish I was a better house-keeper.

I wish my dogs didn't shed.
~
I wish I could get paid for doing something I love.

I wish I loved something enough to want to do it for a living.
~
I wish wisdom would come without suffering the experience.

I wish we all could understand each other a little better, rather then be a bunch of judges.

V is for...

Victorious

Ok, this post is kind of a cop out. I was trying to wax eloquent about being victorious through Jesus, and this hymn kept popping into my head. So, I'll just let the timeless lyrics do the talking.

I heard an old, old story,
How a Savior came from glory,
How He gave His life on Calvary
To save a wretch like me;
I heard about His groaning,
Of His precious blood's atoning,
Then I repented of my sins;
And won the victory.

O victory in Jesus,
My Savior, forever.
He sought me and bought me
With His redeeming blood;
He loved me ere I knew Him,
And all my love is due Him,
He plunged me to victory,
Beneath the cleansing flood.

I heard about His healing,
Of His cleansing power revealing.
How He made the lame to walk again
And caused the blind to see;
And then I cried, "Dear Jesus,
Come and heal my broken spirit,"
And somehow Jesus came and brought
To me the victory.

O victory in Jesus,
My Savior, forever.
He sought me and bought me
With His redeeming blood;
He loved me ere I knew Him,
And all my love is due Him,
He plunged me to victory,
Beneath the cleansing flood.

I heard about a mansion
He has built for me in glory.
And I heard about the streets of gold
Beyond the crystal sea;
About the angels singing,
And the old redemption story,
And some sweet day I'll sing up there
The song of victory.

O victory in Jesus,
My Savior, forever.
He sought me and bought me
With His redeeming blood;
He loved me ere I knew Him,
And all my love is due Him,
He plunged me to victory,
Beneath the cleansing flood.

(You're totally going to have this song stuck in your head all day now, huh? You're welcome.)

(If you don't know the song, go here to listen to the midi.)

U is for...

Uncoordinated

I've never been particularly coordinated. Actually, I'm quite clumsy. I'm always the one at the dinner table that tips over the glass of milk, or runs my sleeve through the gravy. The number of times I've tripped up the stairs at work or practically somersaulted my way down is too numerous and too embarrassing to admit. I frequently miss doorways by a few inches and slam my shoulder or my knee into the door frame. I've dropped my cell phone so many times that it's a miracle it can still turn on. And if there is a crack in the sidewalk that I am walking on...I guarantee you I will hit it with my toe and stumble.

I never played sports in school. I had a job at a pizza parlor all through school instead. I suppose I might've learned a little more coordination if I had. Or maybe it was God's way of protecting me from the inevitable humiliation. Watch me try to dribble a basketball, and you'll see what I'm talking about. (Although, I can manage to balance a large pizza and six drinks on a tray at once....for whatever that's worth.)

When asking Jerod to remember an uncoordinated story I could write about (since I've repressed them all to my subconscious), he remembered one night when I showed up at his apartment soaking wet and smelling a little like sewage. I had gone to dinner with some friends downtown and I was going to go to his apartment afterwards to see him before heading home for the night. Since I was parked at his place, I had to walk the five or so blocks from the restaurant to his apartment building. I can't remember if it had snowed or rained, but the sidewalks were pretty slick, and the street gutters were full of wonderful smelly runoff water. I was stepping off the curb to go into the street and with flaying arms, I fell flat on my butt in a nasty puddle several inches deep. Luckily, I was only a block away from my destination and it was dark and no one could see me shuffling bowl-legged and red-faced down the sidewalk. I called Jerod from my cell phone and tried to talk him into dropping down a towel from his balcony so that he wouldn't have to smell me and I could just get in my car and go home, but he made me come up so that he could laugh at me, and give me a pair of his sweat pants to warm up in.

So chivalrous of him, wasn't it?

T is for...

Temper

Sometimes, stereotypes can be completely off-base and proven wrong in a lot of cases. For example, my sister is a red-head, like I am. But, she doesn't have the red-headed temper. I've rarely seen her lose her cool. She's pretty steady across the mood gamut. And then there's me. I am the total stereotypical moody, temperamental red-head. Something can set me off at the drop of a hat. And I get screamy and destructive and teary. It ain't pretty. And I'm not proud of this particular trait in myself.

When I was a teenager, my temper was illustrated on just how hard I could slam a door. I remember my dad having to fix my bedroom door just so I was able to close it after one of my temper tantrums. I would get so angry that all I could do was stomp off and slam something really hard so it would make that satisfying *BANG* sound. And I have to shamefully admit, that when my teenage years left, the door slamming didn't totally leave with it.

I remember the first time I lost my temper in Jerod's presence. I didn't learn until later that he came from a pretty non-confrontational upbringing, so that explains why he looked like he was scared to death of me. It was our first real argument and I stood there and yelled at him and gave him my hateful eyes while he just stood there in shock. I learned a lot about Jerod that day. And he learned probably way TOO much about me that day as well.

Yeah. The yelling. Did I mention the yelling? This is the part I hate the most. My temper tantrums also usually involve me saying mean things that I instantly regret and have to apologize for soon after. But, I still say them. I still hurt people. And it's usually people I love the most, because people that don't know me extremely well haven't seen this ugly side of me come out. Why is it that it's only the people that we love the most that we can hurt the most?

I've gotten better about my temper. The teenage years were obviously the worst because of those horrible raging hormones. There was a time period in college where it wasn't so pretty because of another little chemical imbalance I was dealing with. It came out a little while I was dating Jerod just because I was dealing with being raw and vulnerable to another person. And of course marriage is a huge adjustment that throws my balance off even more and lets the ugly angry-Andrea beast out.

I've been blessed to be surrounded by extremely forgiving people that love me very much. My parents and siblings have seen the ugliest parts of me, yet they still display love to me. Jerod was so obviously made for me because of how he deals with my tantrums. He always acts in love when I get out of hand. He's calm and he never fights back with the same unloving anger that I spit out at him. And what I hate the most is that I wish I could promise that I won't get angry say or do hurtful things again, but I can't. It's a deep and dirty sin that I have a hard time stifling. I can work and work to get it under control, but I always screw it up eventually. I just have to constantly ask for that refining fire...and probably keep asking for many years to come. Pray for Jerod, would ya? :)

S is for...

Scrapbooking

This is my obsession of the moment. I really do like to scrapbook, but it's time consuming and a huge commitment. I've done a few projects in the past, but I generally get burnt out and lose my urge for a few years. I figured that my honeymoon was as good of a project as any, so I'm tackling it. I'm currently about a fourth of the way through the trip and I'm still having fun. My checkbook isn't though. I find every cute Italy sticker or embellishment or every travel themed paper and I MUST have it. Did I mention that I get a little obsessive about it? Michaels is my toy store...


This is my "work space". a.k.a. The movie room couch. I've camped out. I've taken over. Jerod must watch TV from exactly one square foot of space on the very tippy corner of the couch and dude, DON'T BUMP MY STUFF!! That empty space you see in the middle is where my lazy butt sits while I glue my fingers together and listen to my TV shows.


Ok, count yourselves very honored. You get to see my first page. I don't want to toot my own horn here, but I. LOVE. IT. I thought long and hard about this page and I was oh so pleased at the outcome. If you think it's ugly, I don't want to hear it. Because I don't care. I love it. That's it.

I'm hoping this ambition/motivation lasts just long enough to get the dumb thing finished. I don't want to peter-out halfway through and I also don't want to bite off another stinkin' huge scrapbook project. And then maybe I'll get the scrapbook urge again in another three or so years...

R is for...

Rebellion

I've been hung up on my R word for awhile. I couldn't think of anything that sounded particularly interesting. I thought about doing Rebellion earlier, but I just didn't have the motivation to do it. Then, people started asking when my R-post was going to appear. Ironically, as soon as I started getting asked about it, the more rebellious I got about putting the time into putting one together. Yes. This is how my childish mind works...

I credit my rebellious nature to my mom. She is a incredibly strong independent woman that will most likely tell you exactly how she feels about something or someone. The doesn't conform to ANYONES standards and often goes against those standards just to prove that she can.

When I was single, I used this rebellious nature to my own amusement more then I should have. I got sick of the rude questions about when I was going to get married, so I would respond with my own rudeness. I have an aunt in particular that I would play this game with sometimes suggesting that I preferred women instead of men with my dry sarcastic way that she never could tell if I was serious or not. Or I would tell her that I hate kids anyway so why would I ever get married and bring more brats into this world. It's mean, I know. But, she is always incredibly rude with her comments and I just couldn't bring myself to do what Jesus would do.

Another one of these incidents was with some old family friends that we used to attend church with. I was sitting next to them at my grandparents' 50th anniversary party and they started in on the marriage questions. I was feeling particular feisty that day...

Them: "So, Andrea, do you have anyone 'special' in your life at the moment?"
Me: "Actually, I do! We're actually living together right now."
Them: *blink blink* "Really?!? Andrea...."
Me: "Yeah. He's also black."
Them: ...
Me: "His name is Cache. And he sleeps in my bed with me most nights."

Now, I'm not totally cruel. Before anyone keeled over with a heart attack, I quickly told them that I was talking not about a human, but about a dog. It was quick suffering, I swear.

I often get tired of my inherited need to rebel. Why can't I just go with the flow and be happy? And mostly, I can. But, it's my rebellious nature that also helps me stand up for what I believe in. It helps me speak with honesty in times when I feel it's the most important. And in times when it gets me in trouble, I just blame it on my mother.

Q is for...

Quirky

I know everyone has a few quirks about them, so I thought I'd tell you about some of mine. (Except the one's I've already told you about in my P-post.)

Before closing my cell phone and putting it away, I HAVE to wipe the cheek grease off the screen. I can't close it dirty.

If my Google Reader has any unread posts in it at ALL, it drives me nuts. I have to finish reading them. It's like having an unfinished sandwich in front of me. I can't just push it away. I'm the same way with books. No matter how much a book sucks, I have to finish it. I'm actually in the middle of one of those right now...and hating every page. (Which is strange, because I have no problem dropping other projects before finishing them. I still have touch up painting to do in my kitchen that I painted two years ago.)

I'll spend $70.00 bucks on a good pair of sheets, but I cringe at a pair of shoes or any article of clothing that is over $20.00. That might shed some light on just how important my sleep is to me.

I firmly believe that Neosporin is a cure-all for absolutely everything. It's like Mr. Portokalos's obsession with Windex.

I have a bizarre relationship with tweezers.

In fact, if I had to choose two tools to take with me onto a desert island, I would take tweezers and Neosporin. No doubt.

This one is gross. I pick at my scabs. Constantly. And I chew on my lips when I'm nervous. These two things are what started my relationship with Neosporin, I believe.

I am freakishly organized about some things, but embarrassingly unorganized about other. I have every single utility bill from the last 5 years chronologically filed away in folders. But, if you ask me where I put the scissors (or scotch tape) last, I have no idea....and then you'll find them later in the produce drawer of the refrigerator.

There are oh so many other ones, but I think that's enough dirty laundry...

P is for...

Phobias

Most of the time, I can overcome fear pretty easily. I'm not scared of water, or closed in spaces, or death, or heights, or spiders. I don't especially like public speaking, but I can muddle through most days if I have to. But I do have a few things that totally freak me out.

Snakes
I absolutely DESPISE snakes. Actually, anything reptile-like is gross. But snakes give me the ultimate creepy crawlies. Whether it is on TV, in real life, a picture in a book, whatever! Just get it away from me. Snakes are gross. Period. It takes me quite a bit of "pumping up" time to even go in the vicinity of Elvis, the albino python, at Exotic Pets.

People Touching My Neck
I'm not sure where this came from, but I have to be absolutely relaxed or completely trust the person completely in order to let them touch my neck. Otherwise, it's instant goosebumps, and I get all panicky.

Mice/Rats
Even the pet kinds. I picture them chewing on my toes or clawing their way up my legs. At work, we have a mice problem in our very old downtown building, so I think that is what has ruined me.

Burgulars/Peeping Toms
It's not so much the burgling or the peeping that scares me. It's the fright-factor. It's the idea of coming around a dark corner and seeing a man standing there. Or closing my mirrored medicine cabinet only to see someone in the reflection standing behind me. Or looking in a dark window and seeing dark eyes staring back to me. Oh man...I just got the willies just thinking about it...

Sidenote: Early on in our dating relationship when Jerod did not know this about me, he was over at my house and tried to scare me. He hid in my dark bathroom and when I came around the corner, all I saw was this dark figure standing there. It scared the CUH-RAP out of me! He learned quickly never to do that again to a single woman that lives in a big house all by herself.

Walmart
Maybe it's the crowds (because sometimes the mall at Christmas-time has this same effect on me) but I just absolutely freak out in that place. It's like I need to stabilize myself by hanging onto something. I usually walk along one side of the aisle and run my hand along the shelves. It's almost like over stimulation or something. All the people and the stuff to look at just confuse and disorientate me. Maybe this is why I do most of my shopping online.

Any Social Gathering With More Then Three People
I tend to clam up and hide in the corner hoping that people will think I'm the fly on the wall that I'm trying to be. Being sociable is not my forte. I tend to stutter and say or do things that are completely inappropriate. I'm not sure where this came from. Maybe from spending most of my day with a computer??? I guess social skills have an expiration date on them if not used regularly.

O is for...

Oh Snap

...and other idioms kids use these days that I don't understand or that just plain annoy me.

All definitions are compliments of urbandictionary.com

oh snap - (exclamatory phrase) a playful indication of surprise, misfortune, or insult
popularized by Tracy Morgan of Saturday Night Live, OH SNAP is seemingly derivative of oh no you didn't where an insulted person, for example a guest of Jerry Springer or often a spunky African American woman contends the insult being made against him/her. While derivative of "oh no you di-int," OH SNAP has more of an emphasis on playfulness and can be said by people other than those being insulted.

I just don't understand how to use this one. I kind of think I just shouldn't even try to pull this off.

pwned - a corruption of the word "Owned." This originated in an online game called Warcraft, where a map designer misspelled "owned." When the computer beat a player, it was supposed to say, so-and-so "has been owned."
Instead, it said, so-and-so "has been pwned."
It basically means "to own" or to be dominated by an opponent or situation, especially by some god-like or computer-like force.

Ok, I think "owned" is stupid, so why would I make it even stupider by misspelling it? And I still don't really get how you would pronounce it either...

it's on - what you say when the battle/showdown is about to begin, or when you want to fight someone after school.

Um...what exactly is on? On what? I can also include in this annoyance category, "Bring it on" or just "Bring it".

ridunkulous - something that is extremely ridiculous

Why not just say, "extremely ridiculous". Well, I got to admit, it IS kind of fun to say.

fo shizzle - slang for "for sure". Its most famous usage is: Fo shizzle, my nizzle.

I just think it's an excuse to use the z-sound...you know, cuz it's so underused nowadays.

that's dope - adj. cool, nice, awesome

Yeah, that sounds like a good idea. Take slang for heroin or marajuana and make it into something that means awesome. Oh SNAP! (See? I just don't think I can use it right!)

N is for...

Naps

“Think what a better world it would be if we all, the whole world, had cookies and milk about three o'clock every afternoon and then lay down on our blankets for a nap.” ~Robert Fulghum

My mom tells me that when I was little, I would ask for my nap. Always wondering when it was time to go read a book and close my eyes. What kind of kid does that?

"I love a good nap. Sometimes it's the only thing getting me out of bed in the morning." ~George Castanza

Seriously, the thing that makes it possible for me to get out of bed on Wednesday through Friday, is to think about all the napping I will be doing in the approaching weekend.

"No day is so bad it can't be fixed with a nap." ~Carrie Snow

When I first started working a real job, I was so overwhelmed at all the information coming at me that the first thing I did when I got home was close my eyes for an hour or so. It made everything a so much easier to handle.

"There is more refreshment and stimulation in a nap, even of the briefest, than in all the alcohol ever distilled." ~Edward Lucas

It's 5:00 on a Friday afternoon and I have a choice between going out with coworkers for a drink....or going home for a nap. Um...no contest there. The tough decision comes when I have to decide whether I will take said nap before or after dinner.

"Consciousness: that annoying time between naps." ~Author Unknown