Beets

Delicious, almost crunchy but not quite. The sensation is not so much a crunch as it is a snap. The unique bleeding purple heart color which taints all the other foods it touches. The unique, mild taste--distinct, but . . . simple. I love beets. A lot. Let me loose on a salad bar and half the plate WILL be beets. It's intense. At the UVU cafeteria I always get the salad bar with half a plate of beets and it stinks because I think I spend tons on the beets. (The salad is priced by weight and beets are super heavy--WAY annoying) Without the beets the salad would cost a bundle less I think. But totally worth it.

Old Grouch?

I think I'm getting grumpy in my old age. In August I'll be two DECADES old. And I can feel it. I'm less patient, I know what types of people I work with well and enjoy being around more. I used to be the girl that could get along with EVERYBODY. Have I lost that? I seem to be continually struggling with the eternal question of where the line is? Where do I draw between the things I need and the altruism I need to have in my heart for others? I don't want to be a grumpy gills; I've always prided myself on NOT being that. But why does it seem the older I get the more complicated things get? I get tired sometimes--I'm a good tipper, I let people come in front of me when I'm driving, I make eye contact and shake hands with people I meet. And it's not that I'm not blessed. I would never in a thousand years think that. I'm too blessed, even. I don't know why Heavenly Father bestows so much love on me, but I know He does. It's not that. It's the little things. I get tired of karma not working out on the little things. Wow, that sounds whiney. What am I saying--I HATE whiners. And I am SO being one. That's dumb. I AM ornery. It's not that the little things worked out more before, it's that I didn't need them to. Woahzers, Miss Sullivan, we have some attitude adjustments to make, don't we? I have five months to welcome the big 2-0 with a bang.(an optimistic one) I'm gonna do that.

What A Lucky Girl

This weekend I had a long talk with an old friend. For the sake of the story we'll say it's a male. And for the sake of the story we'll call that male say . . . Byron. Yes Byron is good. Byron told me all about plans he has for the future and thoughts going through his head, concerns in his life--while I just stayed quiet and listened. I sincerely was just trying to be supportive and therefore commented as little as possible. It's when I speak I cause problems. Byron is a good good guy; truly top notch. He and I are not meant to be, so don't think anything of this, but sitting there chatting with him, listening to him chat at me rather, I just remember thinking a number of things but predominantly, "What a lucky girl." It will be a very blessed special woman that gets his heart and his life and I'm happy for them both. Whoever she ends up being with he. I'd like to be a girl that someone will look at and think, "What a lucky guy." I'll work on that.