Random Thoughts

Last night I ended up having a little bit of "quiet" time; my 3 girls were in bed and Aaron had taken Noah for a "night out with Dad." (They went to Wendy's to eat Frosties and then to Target to buy Noah some new socks. Ah, quality time.) Ordinarily I would've turned on the TV but I decided instead to do a responsible thing (the dishes) and an irresponsible thing (bake & devour peach crisp a la mode). While busying myself in the kitchen, I noticed the extreme quiet of my surroundings (quite unusual for this house) and I found my brain wandering in all sorts of directions.

First of all, I am truly a happy person as the blog title suggests, but for some reason I found myself getting angry in my head over bizarre things: (Dangit! Where the heck is the nutmeg? WHO TOOK MY NUTMEG?)

Once I realized it was I who was responsible for the nutmeg being put away in the wrong spot and not some mischievous goblin, I felt sorry for directing my anger and non-curse words at, um, nobody, and this led me to recall a situation wherein I was cursed at.

It was 1998-1999ish; I was at work managing my precious CD Warehouse on a sunny afternoon. A vicious gang of thugs (I mean regular-looking Provo kids) had just purchased a few CDs from me but had done a fair share of loitering in the process. As they exited the store, the unreliable door security sensor thingy started beeping loudly, and the boys continued casually out the door. I said something like, "Hey, wait!" and rushed out the door, where they were already getting into their car. I said something about how I was going to check their bag to make sure that it only contained the CDs they'd purchased, that they were de-sensored, and that another CD hadn't "accidentally" made its way into the bag. To this the lead thug replied, "Back off, B*!" right in my face, got in his car & drove away. I got part of the license plate but was too shaken up to remember 6 whole digits, I guess.

The first thing I did was to call the cops, who of course couldn't do anything for me. The second thing I did was to call Hubs, who probably wanted to beat the living daylights out of these punks who'd dared talk to his woman that way, but really the only outcome of that phonecall was mass hysterics on my part. I cried and kinda freaked out... all while my coworker/subordinate with oodles more retail and shoplifting experience than me stared at me like I was a freak. Crying over being called a B*? Gimme a break (she said to herself). This girl had worked at several music stores in an actual city and had dealt with much worse, on countless occasions... so I was a little embarrassed about my theatrics. Needless to say, that coworker quit a few months later because she had a serious issue with me being her boss... too bad; we were pretty good friends up until she quit... and then she never talked to me again.

When I told my mom the shoplifter-thug story later that day (possibly amidst more tears; who knows) she chided me, "You should never run out into the parking lot after them! They could've had a gun!" I assured her that it was Provo.

So back to last night: after reliving that story in my head, I ran out of things to think about and began singing Mr. Roboto. By Styx. A classic.

Thus ended my "quiet time" and I turned on the TV, delighted to find The Office. "I'm not really a superstitious person. Just... stitious."

In other news (not that you've heard any yet), we're going camping tonight.

In still other news, yes I'm still on a diet - I just opted out of dinner tonight in favor of peach crisp. Hey, calories are calories. I'm down about 8 pounds and counting.

Thank you very much-o.