Spiders, Depression, and Boys

I hate spiders. But Lizzy hates them more. She is so afraid of them that it is easy for me to see how irrational a fear of spiders is. She runs out of the bathroom, squealing, "Eeew, a spider!" I shake my head, walk in calmly, and squish it with my bare hands, even though, if I were alone, I would grab a shoe, hold it at arm's length, and hope to kill the spider on the first try so it couldn't angrily attack me for my onslaught.

Yesterday, I was feeling miserable, as usual. I'm not miserable every day, but lately Sundays have been excruciating. I want to bang my head against a wall in hopes that the pain in my head will distract me from the pain in my soul, but mostly I just rock back and forth like a neglected Romanian orphan and wish someone would give me a hug. So yesterday, I was moping and telling Lizzy that I didn't want to go to my meetings; I just wanted to go back to bed and wake up on Monday.  She said, "You know, this morning, I was dragging my feet and feeling miserable, too, but you are so much worse, it makes me say, 'Get over it!'" So I got over it enough to go to church where I stared at the floor for the better part of three hours and fake-smiled at everyone who talked to me.

Today, I feel marvelously better, mainly because it is not Sunday. I was pouting only slightly that this boy I like is not interested in me, when Lizzy told me that her crush just started dating someone else. She is too upset about it, so upset that she awakened me to my own irrationality, and now I cannot pout, even a little. Don't get me wrong, I feel bad for Lizzy, but the only thing I can think to say other than "I'm sorry" is "Stop being so irrational."

Solved Mysteries

I had been meaning to look up all those "-ceps" on wikipedia, when, while watching my older brother adjust my younger brother's misaligned pelvic bone this evening, I realized if anyone knew the answer to my muscle quandary, my brother would. This is what I learned:

1. The front of the thigh has four separate muscles collectively called the quadricep.

2. Biceps and triceps are called such because they have two and three muscle bellies. Basically, the bicep has two branches that come together at one end; similarly, the tricep has three branches that come together at one end.

3. There is no such muscle as a monocep.

Unsolved Mysteries

Earlier this week, Lizzy and I were pondering the origin of the word "quadricep." How did the front thigh muscles get that name? And what about triceps and biceps? The prefixes mean four, three, and two, but that's not helpful. You have two biceps, but you don't have three triceps or four quadriceps. Are they being ranked in some way? And if so, which muscle is first? Is there such a muscle as a monocep? Someone who has taken anatomy, please enlighten me!

Good Idea, Bad Idea

Good Idea: Letting your 3-year-old nephew sit on the dryer so he can help you do laundry.

Bad Idea: Letting your 3-year-old nephew sit on the dryer so he can play with the circuit breakers.

Good Idea: Getting to know someone by asking them on a date.

Bad Idea: Getting to know someone by Googling them and reading their entire blog.

Good Idea: Taking a course by independent study to finish your degree.

Bad Idea: Taking a course by independent study and never finishing it.

A Metaphor While Folding Pizza Boxes

My job is that person you date because you have fun with them even though you know the relationship has no future.

Benefits of Living At My Sister's

an active mind (translation: I watch no TV)
weight loss (translation: there is no food here)
a regular sleep schedule (translation: I have to go to bed early because the kids wake me up early)

I'm Hungry

I have moved into my sister's house, where I will stay indefinitely. She has four kids, ages 8, 6, 4, and 3. I haven't lived with children since I was one of them. It proves to be difficult in ways I never imagined. I knew they would wake me up in the mornings and constantly ask, "What are you doing?" "Where are you going?" and those things don't bother me for the most part. What I didn't realize (though perhaps I should have) is that I cannot eat whatever I want whenever I want. Last night I was going to order pizza (not from work because we weren't open) but I realized that if I did, the kids would want some. Instead, I ate with the family. They were having some pasta I didn't really like. I wanted to just eat the homemade rolls with jam, but the rule for the kids was that they had to eat their age in pasta (shells) before they could eat a roll. I figured I had better do the same to set an example. I hate setting an example. All this makes me think of something one of my home teachers said in a recent lesson: now is when we establish the habits we will have as parents. Feeding my children pizza everyday would probably be a bad idea. *sigh*