Random Thoughts

I used to think I wanted to be one of those moms that my kids' friends would like.  Nope, turns out I don't care one little bit.  How liberating.

There are few things in this world I want badly enough to "like" them or "follow" them on facebook.

We attended the musical "Peter Pan" at BYU a few weeks ago, and while overall it was fun and enjoyable, you know the part where Tinkerbell is dying and Peter turns to the audience and tells them they have to clap if they believe in fairies?  I hate that part so much I cried actual tears of embarrassment.  No exaggeration.

Of course, seeing as I wept, caught up in a wave of sentimental sappiness during an (ill-advised) viewing of "Starlight Express" in London's West End ("He really IS the starlight!!"), I suppose I am hardly in a position to criticize embarrassing displays of emotion.

Let's talk about donating blood.
A. The "refreshments" they give you afterwards really aren't worth it.  When as a youth I heard they had snacks and cookies, I thought it was REAL cookies, but no.  I bet more people would give blood if they had real cookies.  (Good ones.)  Lucky for all you blood-needers, some of us are altruistic and not doing it for the cookies.
B. The only people I ever hear talking about giving blood are saying, "Oh, I wish I could give blood, but I'm anemic/gluten intolerant/too skinny/prone to fainting/other non-embarrassing health issue that showcases how fragile and delicate I am."  Or they talk smugly about how long and harrowing the process was, due to their wispy and willowy veins.  ("It took me 40 minutes to fill one bag!").  Come on, people!  Where are my fellow specimans of sturdiness?  Who are the evolutionary winners here?  As for me, the workers always tell me what "great veins" I have, and I've never so much as let out a dainty gasp when the needle goes in.  Anemia?  Ha!  Let's show pride where it's actually due, shall we?

If I hear Ohmygosh Social Media 2.0 Twitter Networking Empowerment for Women Wave of the Future!!! one more time I will probably leave civilization and become a hermit.  And become much sought-after for my prickly wisdom, no doubt.


  1. Yes! to your thoughts on donating blood. I've signed up this week to donate. Now I can feel great boasting about how much I like giving blood--watching that needle with cool confidence, feeling so smug and satisfied with myself.

    For years, I was reluctantly in that unfortunate sickly group. I thought my childhood bout of Hep A excluded me; but I did some diligent research with the Red Cross, and now I couldn't be happier to have joined the healthy, sturdy, and reliable team.

  2. I mean I'm sitting there after having sat through the cheese of all broadway shows - we didn't know it was a kid's show, did we? - after we had laughed and chortled at the ridiculousness of these boys on rollerblads as TRAINS, and I look over to you, hoping for some communion in my amazement that people/we paid money to come; that the show lasted for more than a day before being run out of town. And what do I find? Tears streaming down your face because "he IS the starlight."


  3. 1. Almost everything on Broadway is embarrassing - especially done off-Broadway, and most especially when it's off-off-off - mainly because all the people involved take themselves so seriously. That actory looking earnestly up at the fresnel lights at the ceiling, as though the heavens have opened and the angels are sitting at the throne of whatever epiphany has just been shot down (like a bolt of lightening) - mouth slighly open, cheeks simply glowing with belief in the moment. Yeah. Whatever.

    I only say this because I was in the theater myself, my dear. Yes. Yes I was.

    I don't give blood because I never think of it, and I don't want to. They were taking my blood once when I was pregnant and tried every vein in one of my arms, ending with the one in the back of my hand. I was bruised up and down for two weeks. The seal of the syringe had been broken.

    If any of you need it, I'll give it. If you remind me. But I WILL gasp.

  4. There was supposed to be a 2. before the blood part.

  5. I did sign up to give blood last year, but I forgot. And somehow I'm always (conveeeniently) great with child when the blood drive rolls around. I don't intend for it to be that way, truly.

    Why didn't we go to Starlight Express together? I went too. One of the stranger plays I've seen--I have since tried to explain the plot to Seth (the theme song is on an Andrew Lloyd Weber CD I have), but he just couldn't fathom it.

  6. I enjoy giving blood, but unless I'm in tip-top physical condition I get just a bit woozy for the hour after. The REAL problem is this: WHO WILL WATCH MY KIDS WHILE I AM DONATING? You'd think the Red Cross would have thought of this. Also, if they provided trained child-care I bet some mothers would start donating just for a chance to read a magazine in peace.

  7. Chels, great point! That's what usually stops me too. The last thing I want is to be running around after kids with a bag of blood trailing after me. Or worse, trying to get them to stop pulling out someone _else's_ bag of blood. Ew!

  8. And Beth, admit it, the memory moves you. You get teary just thinking of it.

  9. I. Love. This. Blog. To say it any other way just seems cheap and inadequate.
    Amen to your thoughts on Peter Pan. That part always makes me squirm.
    And I've never really gotten much involved with donating blood. But I justify it by remembering that Weston donates a lot. And by that, I mean a LOT. He receives certificates in the mail saying thank you and that as of his last donation he has reached x number of gallons. I'd never heard blood donation quantified quite like that before.


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