Yikes

There is a spider in my house. I live by myself, so there is no one else to get it. Yikes. I'm not sure I can sleep knowing that in my small 600 square feet of space, a spider is ready to pounce. Maybe this is a good reason to get married.

Yahtzee!!

I have a friend named Kelly, as do many people who read my blog. I have never met anyone who hates Yahtzee as much as she does. I'm not in love with Yahtzee or anything, but how fun is it to yell Yahtzee at the top of your lungs? I'll answer...very fun. I have never understood Kelly's aversion to Yahtzee, and I may still not fully understand, but after today, I do appreciate it.
There is a store called Buckhorns that I walk by on my way to and from work. Pretty much everyday when I walk home, and sometimes in the morning when I am going to work, there is a lady sitting on the steps of Buckhorns playing electronic Yahtzee. For a long time, I thought she was the reincarnation of a woman who died/was killed/overdosed (depending on who you talk to) that lived in the building next to me. This may seem like a stretch, but she kind of looks like she could be on drugs, she is probably fairly lonely, and she is haunting the stairs of a store just a few blocks away from where she died. Rational conclusion, right?
Today on my way home, I walked past Buckhorns, and the lady was laying down on the cement by the door with her head obscured from my view by a bush. As I passed her she yelled out "Yahtzee!" Instead of being excited for her, I just thought it was kind of sad.
Kelly is as far away from becoming this woman as she could possibly be. I, sadly am not. I like Yahtzee. If I don't control my feelings for Yahtzee and let them get out of control, my love of the excitement of screaming out Yahtzee! could turn me into her. So Kelly, I want to say thank you for being such a good example of being Yahtzee averse. Your example may save me from going down that slippery slope that is Yahtzee addiction.

Creepy Parking Guy

The parking attendant at the building I work at is creepy, and not just because he is 40 and works full time as the parking garage attendant. Let me elaborate...
Occasionally I ride my scooter to work. The sign at the entrance of the parking garage says "no motorcycles", but when I first started working at the building, I went to talk to the parking guy about the possibility of parking my scooter in the garage. This was before I realized he was creepy. Although his stringy long hair gave me the idea that he might possibly be creepy I had not solidified my opinion. He told me that I could park my scooter right by the parking booth at the exit, and if I left my name, number, and company I worked for, he would call me if there were any problems. Great, I thought. Problem solved.
I rode my scooter to work the very next day. I happened to be wearing a dress (please reference earlier post about the perils of riding a scooter in a dress). As I was leaving the garage, I just waved and said thanks for letting me park there. He said "you can park here any time if you are wearing a dress." Yuck. The next time I rode my scooter in, I made sure to be wearing pants.
Well, it has been awhile since I have (riddin, rided, rode-take your pick) into work. I usually walk because my office is less than a mile away from work. I was running late today, and it was a nice morning, so I rode my scooter. As I am walking out of the garage, creepy parking guy says "good morning Nicole". It has been at least six weeks, if not longer, since I have come to work on my scooter, and he still knows my name. Creepy x 10!!!
One creepy encounter per day is my limit, so this afternoon when I saw him walk around the corner when I was waiting for the elevator, I almost decided to take the stairs. Eight floors isn't that many, right? But three inch heels make it feel like 16 floors, so against my better judgement, I boarded the elevator. Just me and parking guy for eight floors. Creepy parking guy says to me "It's my lucky day. I see you in the morning, and now I get to talk to you on the elevator."
A lucky day for one is a creepy day for another.

Cheap and Easy

One of the first things I did after moving to Salt Lake was to get a library card. The Salt Lake library is really cool, and I kind of feel like I am a member of a fabulous club which you need a special card to get in to, or at least take anything out of.
After I got my library card, I checked out a few books. I have been trying to cook more, and I checked out a book called "Cheap and Easy, a Cookbook for Girls on the Go". I thought the title was funny, and some of the recipies looked good. Over the past few weeks I have been really busy, and I haven't made one thing out of the book. Sadly, now it is time to return it. I think this means that I am a girl on the go, but hopefully not cheap and easy.

Monkey Bars are for Monkeys

My nephew Spencer has been accused of being a little stinker, a rascal, a cutie, but he has never been accused of being a monkey. What, then was he doing on the monkey bars??? Clearly, clearly, clearly he should not have been messing around with play equipment named for the only species that should use it!
On the first day of kindergarten, Spencer fell from the monkey bars....and he broke his arm! Tragedy! I don't blame Spencer for attempting to tackle what only a monkey should. I blame the elementary school. Maybe, long ago, monkeys attended elementary school, and the monkey bars are a remnant and a reminder that they were once there. But, I attended elementary school long long ago, and I did not have any monkeys in my classes at Edgemont or Rock Canyon elementaries. And still, the monkey bars remain, to the detriment of Spencer.
There is a bright side to the story though. Spencer has been immortalized as that kid in kindergarten who broke his arm. In my second grade class, Brook fell off the monkey bars and broke her arm, and I still remember it. Also, Spencer has the coolest cast I have ever seen. It is black and has his name painted in bright yellow letters with with orange and red flames coming off of it. I think the kids in his class might want to break their arms just to get a cast as awesome as his.
Spency, you are now wise enough to watch out for the monkey bars, but beware the jungle gym...it is only for lions tigers and bears, not for little boys!

Honey is for the bees

I started a new job a few weeks ago, and so far it is going okay. I have a whole new cast of characters is my life, so there is no more crazy Janet, but now there is singing Alexis. I'm beginning to think that Janet wasn't so bad.

Alexis started on the same day that I did. She is working as the receptionist/administrative assistant. At the moment, she sits at the front desk two days a week, but we share a cubicle for a couple of days a week while I wait for a pregnant girl to have her baby and give me her office. I'm not above sharing a cubicle, but I'm not sure that Alexis has been taught the basics of office etiquette.

I am an adult and I am a professional. I prefer for people to call me by my name, which is Nicole. I don't really mind nicknames, and I have had many. If you want to call me Nickelodeon, Nicodemus, Nick at Night, Aunt Cole, Coley, Miss Ostler, or (only every once in awhile) Nicki, I will answer. For some reason, Alexis thinks it is okay to call me, and every woman in the office, hun, as in short for honey. Really? Do we work in a nail salon and have bleached blond hair? No, I don't tease my hair, wear blue eyeshadow, or own pink pants. I think it is completely unprofessional and it makes me crazy!

Music is fine, and Alexis doesn't have bad taste in music. The only problem is that Alexis feels that she needs to hum or sing along. It usually starts out kind of quiet with occasional humming, but by the end of the day she sings entire choruses of songs. I just think it is annoying. I am trying to work in a very small area, and she decides to sing aloud. This isn't your car Alexis, there are other people trying to work. I don't care if you are Pavarotti, please don't sing in the office, hun.

Scoots and Skirts

As many of my avid readers know, I ride a scooter during the summer. My boss Craig tells me almost everyday that I need to be really careful because my scooter could kill me. There are precautions that I take in order to be more safe, such as wearing my pirate princess helmet, keeping a good distance from the car in front of me, and avoiding really busy roads like University Avenue and Geneva Road.
As mentioned, I have a really cool helmet with a sticker on the back that says pirate princess. I actually like my helmet, and I almost always wear it. The only times I don't wear it is if I am going somewhere pretty close to home, it is really hot outside and wearing a helmet would be unbearable, or if I really don't want my hair to be all squished down.
A couple of days ago, I was riding down to return a dvd that I had rented. It was a very hot day, and I was only going down to Blockbuster, which can't be more than a couple of miles from my house. Taking those things into account, I didn't wear my helmet. No big deal until my friend Collin spotted me. He is probably more concerned about my scooter safety than anyone else, and he sent me a text telling me to put my helmet on. His text made him sound very serious, and even though he couldn't hear me, I thought Collin is right, I should be wearing my helmet.
There were a couple of things that Collin didn't mention in his text. The first is I was wearing a skirt. I think this may be more treacherous than not wearing my helmet. When I ride my scooter in a skirt, which I don't do very often, I tend to pay more attention to how far my skirt is pulled over my knees, or if for some reason, my skirt is coming over my knees, I concentrate more on pulling my knees as close together as possible than I do on traffic around me. Stopping in a skirt is also a problem. Normally, I slow down, and then put my feet down when I am almost stopped. In a skirt, I try to only put one foot down instead of both. You could kind of think of it as the same idea of riding side saddle on a horse. I don't want to straddle the scooter in a skirt just in case there are a lot of cars close by or possible a pedestrian or maybe other scooter or motorcycle riders. Anyway, this kind of throws my balance of when I stop and go, and if I ever rear end a car while on the scooter, I am sure I will be able to blame it on a skirt.
The second scooter transgression I was committing was my choice of footwear. I was wearing my 2nd favorite pair of shoes. They are super cute kitten heel slides. The toe cover is cream fabric with green flowers embroidered on them, and there are a few little sparkles sewn on. The heel is probably only an inch or an inch and a half, so that isn't as much of a problem as when I wear four inch heels, but there isn't a back on this pair of particular shoes. A couple of times that day, I lost my shoe when I picked my foot up to start going. I would have to put my brakes on very quickly to collect my shoe, but I made it all day without losing my shoe.
Don't worry about my safety. I still know what is important. My brain, sure. My shoes, definitely!