As my days on campus are winding down, I'm using every minute of them to be with friends. (As I'm sure you noticed with my lack of participation in social media outlets).
Our Suite Day ended earlier than anticipated, so I texted Stacy and asked if she wanted to play tennis. I had about a little over an hour before I needed to be ready for dinner.
She said sure, so we headed to the courts.
There was a storm brewing on the horizon, and we had the perfect spot to watch it roll in. Based on how often Stacy glanced up at the sky, I could tell she was nervous about this impending storm.
I'm from the Midwest. I figured we would play until the wind picked up, it started raining, or we saw lightning.
The darker the sky got, the more often we glanced towards it. In the distance, we could see the rain coming down. Stacy asked me if I was a daredevil. I'm not, but I do love watching storms roll in.
We hurried to get stray balls, wasted no time before a serve, and hit as frequently as we could.
Finally Stacy said it would have to be the last rally.
No rain, no wind, no lightning.
I disagreed but complied. I knew she was more concerned for my safety than her own. I knew that if something happened to me, she'd somehow contort it to where she, as the adult, was responsible.
In the two minutes it takes to drive back to my apartment, the wind picked up tremendously. As we entered the breezeway of my building, the first few rain drops fell.
We got back quite literally at the perfect time.
If it hadn't been for Stacy having my best interests at heart, I would have kept playing. I would have gotten wet. I would have blown away. I would have gotten struck by lightning.
If it weren't for God having my best interests at heart, I would not be where I am. I would keep playing, I would blow away, I would get hurt.
Sometimes obedience is hard. Ok, a lot of times obedience is hard. We'd rather risk it and wait the impending storm.
But I fully believe that God has our best interests at heart. If it is His will, He'll protect us from danger, even if He waits until the last moment to do it.
Even though we may not agree, the best thing we can do is comply to His will.
<>< Katie
"I am sure that some people are born to write as trees are born to bear leaves. For these, writing is a necessary mode of their own development." - C. S. Lewis
Showing posts with label tennis. Show all posts
Showing posts with label tennis. Show all posts
Monday, May 16, 2011
Friday, March 11, 2011
The Tennis Racket
"I carry more to class every day than I pack when I fly across the country."
It's true. But last week Thursday when our campus minister Neal asked me to bring my suitcase to his office to help prepare for our upcoming mission trip, I protested. I didn't want to walk fifteen minutes across campus with my suitcase. I don't usually fly with a suitcase, and I definitely wasn't walking to class with a suitcase.
On Friday, when we were meeting as a mission team Neal said, "I heard some of you care too much about your pride to walk all the way to my office with a suitcase."
He didn't have to say, "'Some of you' means 'Katie.'" I knew. He knew. In case Neal's subtle reminder to keep my pride in check wasn't enough, God took care of it.
Monday my gym class made the mid-semester switch from badminton to tennis. For the rest of the semester, I get to carry around a tennis racket all day twice a week.
Really, I'm ok with it because it means I get to play tennis twice a week, but after about... oh, fifteenth time answering the "Why do you have a tennis racket?" question, it gets a little old.
Has your pride made unexpected appearances today?
What is your "tennis racket" to carry around today to make sure the pride stays in check?
<>< Katie
Update: Neal weighed my backpack today... 25lbs.
It's true. But last week Thursday when our campus minister Neal asked me to bring my suitcase to his office to help prepare for our upcoming mission trip, I protested. I didn't want to walk fifteen minutes across campus with my suitcase. I don't usually fly with a suitcase, and I definitely wasn't walking to class with a suitcase.
On Friday, when we were meeting as a mission team Neal said, "I heard some of you care too much about your pride to walk all the way to my office with a suitcase."
He didn't have to say, "'Some of you' means 'Katie.'" I knew. He knew. In case Neal's subtle reminder to keep my pride in check wasn't enough, God took care of it.
Monday my gym class made the mid-semester switch from badminton to tennis. For the rest of the semester, I get to carry around a tennis racket all day twice a week.
Really, I'm ok with it because it means I get to play tennis twice a week, but after about... oh, fifteenth time answering the "Why do you have a tennis racket?" question, it gets a little old.
Has your pride made unexpected appearances today?
What is your "tennis racket" to carry around today to make sure the pride stays in check?
<>< Katie
Update: Neal weighed my backpack today... 25lbs.
Monday, January 3, 2011
Futbol Confusion
This is an old note I wrote after attending a US vs. Costa Rica soccer game in Costa Rica. It was scarier than going to a Flyers game in Philly. But we all lived to tell the tale.
<>< Katie
I went to a football game today. Except there was no pig skin. No quarterback. The players actually used their feet. I was shocked!
On the way to the game we saw a brawl. Everyone on the bus was yelling, "Fight! Fight! Fight!" And when the two men fell, I screamed, "Let's see some blood on that ice!"
On the street outside the stadium, the bus of American soccer players was warmly welcomed by police on horseback and one-finger waves from the crowd.
When we arrived at the game, we had a pat-down search where they confiscated cosas commencing with the letter "C": cameras, cell phones, chap-stick, and coins. I found this behavior quite strange.
I was surprised they hadn't closed the roof due to the impending rain, but the rain held off and the roof remained open.
Our seats were prefect to watch the players fly and see the quaffle at all times. Although we were definitely within hitting range from the bludgers. Who are those little insects down there walking along the grass?
We sang two national anthems. When the second started, I smiled and said, "Oh, Canada" before searching in vain to find their flag.
The game began, and the ball was kicked high into the air. "Get up! Get up! Get outta here! Gone!" As it rose, I yelled, "Fore!" for safety. Once it hit the net, I said, "Let!" When it went over, I knew there would be a five-minute major penalty for Delay of Game. Luckily, I had kept my eyes on it the whole time and was in no danger of being hit (by anything except those bloody bludgers). Eventually, the ball returned magically from the stands. That's not supposed to happen; it was your team that did it!
The ball was definitely touched more than three times. Once it crossed the entire court and the ref failed to call icing. Another time the player took it over-and-back, and my Fang Fingers were ready! During a tough call, I don't know why they didn't consult the experts in Toronto to review the play again. They didn't even take a TV time-out. The play clock continued while they exchanged yellow Christmas cards.
Shots on goal were few and far between. The goalie even ventured far from his net to retrieve the ball, but I screamed at him, "Get back in your net, Vokoun!" When the ball went in the gutter, I offered to give them a second serve, but I was benched. One man patted the top of his head, clearly needing to tie his shoe, but the play-clock never stopped. Although, the one and only intermission was cut short by five minutes.
In the last two minutes, we should have pulled our goalie. At the end, the red, white, and blue was victorious. After all, the lowest score wins, and they had three while we only had one!
I went to a football game today. I prefer to call it soccer, but either way I understand all of the rules.
<>< Katie
I went to a football game today. Except there was no pig skin. No quarterback. The players actually used their feet. I was shocked!
On the way to the game we saw a brawl. Everyone on the bus was yelling, "Fight! Fight! Fight!" And when the two men fell, I screamed, "Let's see some blood on that ice!"
On the street outside the stadium, the bus of American soccer players was warmly welcomed by police on horseback and one-finger waves from the crowd.
When we arrived at the game, we had a pat-down search where they confiscated cosas commencing with the letter "C": cameras, cell phones, chap-stick, and coins. I found this behavior quite strange.
I was surprised they hadn't closed the roof due to the impending rain, but the rain held off and the roof remained open.
Our seats were prefect to watch the players fly and see the quaffle at all times. Although we were definitely within hitting range from the bludgers. Who are those little insects down there walking along the grass?
We sang two national anthems. When the second started, I smiled and said, "Oh, Canada" before searching in vain to find their flag.
The game began, and the ball was kicked high into the air. "Get up! Get up! Get outta here! Gone!" As it rose, I yelled, "Fore!" for safety. Once it hit the net, I said, "Let!" When it went over, I knew there would be a five-minute major penalty for Delay of Game. Luckily, I had kept my eyes on it the whole time and was in no danger of being hit (by anything except those bloody bludgers). Eventually, the ball returned magically from the stands. That's not supposed to happen; it was your team that did it!
The ball was definitely touched more than three times. Once it crossed the entire court and the ref failed to call icing. Another time the player took it over-and-back, and my Fang Fingers were ready! During a tough call, I don't know why they didn't consult the experts in Toronto to review the play again. They didn't even take a TV time-out. The play clock continued while they exchanged yellow Christmas cards.
Shots on goal were few and far between. The goalie even ventured far from his net to retrieve the ball, but I screamed at him, "Get back in your net, Vokoun!" When the ball went in the gutter, I offered to give them a second serve, but I was benched. One man patted the top of his head, clearly needing to tie his shoe, but the play-clock never stopped. Although, the one and only intermission was cut short by five minutes.
In the last two minutes, we should have pulled our goalie. At the end, the red, white, and blue was victorious. After all, the lowest score wins, and they had three while we only had one!
I went to a football game today. I prefer to call it soccer, but either way I understand all of the rules.
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Sunday, August 1, 2010
Broken-Toed Tennis Player
I mentioned last week that Mom broke her toe. I think I need to do justice to that story.
While my sisters and I were at the National Youth Gathering, our parents were on a retreat as part of my dad's work. The first day they were there, she was conned into playing in the tennis tournament. Mom's not a tennis player. She's been a Tennis Mom for almost ten years, but she's never been a tennis player. A few months ago, she decided to pick up the racket and give it a shot. She'll be the first to tell you, she's not very good. Lucky for her, she was partnered with one of my sister's friends, a stellar tennis player and a great guy. Neither one of them wanted to play, but they weren't really given a choice.
That night, she had to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night. Feeling smug, she pulled out her flashlight, but it was brighter in the dark room than she expected, so she turned it off. She'd turn it on, look, turn it off, and take a few steps. It was a fantastic plan. Until she realized the bench at the foot of the bed was wider at its base than it was on top. SMASH! She moaned and face-planted onto the bed.
"There were women screaming and falling into my bed at 2am," Dad says when they co-tell what happened.
In the morning, there was still the tennis tournament to consider. Mom taped her toes and shoved it in her tennis shoe... She felt the skill level of the first match was pretty even, and they won. The second match was harder, but as her opponent got riled up, her partner got fancy. He did most of the work, but she still had to serve and return serves. They won the second match. That meant they were in the championship.
"Whatever you do, do not let the ball go to him; always hit the ball to her," said Mom's opponent.
They were playing a nine game proset, that means first one to nine games wins, and they were up 8-5. Again, her partner is an amazing tennis player and did all of the work, but he's so easy going that he didn't care. Mom decided since the match was not on the line, she wanted to try something her coach had been teaching her.
Her partner and opponent were rallying cross-court from the baseline. At the net, Mom stepped into the center of the court and poached, my trademark shot. She volleyed the ball; it went over the net and dropped. There was no possible way for them to hit that ball.
Mom jumped up to cheer that the poach actually worked. Then reality set in. That wasn't just a great shot, that was the game-winning shot. Game, set, match, tournament!
Mom jumped up to cheer realizing she, an amateur player with a broken toe, just won the tennis tournament.
And she wonders why we give her no pity for her injury.
<>< Katie
While my sisters and I were at the National Youth Gathering, our parents were on a retreat as part of my dad's work. The first day they were there, she was conned into playing in the tennis tournament. Mom's not a tennis player. She's been a Tennis Mom for almost ten years, but she's never been a tennis player. A few months ago, she decided to pick up the racket and give it a shot. She'll be the first to tell you, she's not very good. Lucky for her, she was partnered with one of my sister's friends, a stellar tennis player and a great guy. Neither one of them wanted to play, but they weren't really given a choice.
That night, she had to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night. Feeling smug, she pulled out her flashlight, but it was brighter in the dark room than she expected, so she turned it off. She'd turn it on, look, turn it off, and take a few steps. It was a fantastic plan. Until she realized the bench at the foot of the bed was wider at its base than it was on top. SMASH! She moaned and face-planted onto the bed.
"There were women screaming and falling into my bed at 2am," Dad says when they co-tell what happened.
In the morning, there was still the tennis tournament to consider. Mom taped her toes and shoved it in her tennis shoe... She felt the skill level of the first match was pretty even, and they won. The second match was harder, but as her opponent got riled up, her partner got fancy. He did most of the work, but she still had to serve and return serves. They won the second match. That meant they were in the championship.
"Whatever you do, do not let the ball go to him; always hit the ball to her," said Mom's opponent.
They were playing a nine game proset, that means first one to nine games wins, and they were up 8-5. Again, her partner is an amazing tennis player and did all of the work, but he's so easy going that he didn't care. Mom decided since the match was not on the line, she wanted to try something her coach had been teaching her.
Her partner and opponent were rallying cross-court from the baseline. At the net, Mom stepped into the center of the court and poached, my trademark shot. She volleyed the ball; it went over the net and dropped. There was no possible way for them to hit that ball.
Mom jumped up to cheer that the poach actually worked. Then reality set in. That wasn't just a great shot, that was the game-winning shot. Game, set, match, tournament!
Mom jumped up to cheer realizing she, an amateur player with a broken toe, just won the tennis tournament.
And she wonders why we give her no pity for her injury.
<>< Katie
Monday, July 12, 2010
"It's All in the Serve"
Do me a favor and hold your imaginary tennis ball in your left hand, racket in your right. Bounce the ball on the ground a few times because in a second you're going to toss it straight into the air. Now, cross your wrists. You know this. "Down together; up together; swing when you're ready."
How's your serve?
Off the court, how's your serve? Invisible? Are you putting the towel on like Jesus and washing dirty, smelly feet? Are you getting dirty? Are you being used? Are you serving your own intentions or feeding the needs of others?
Honestly?
No one's judging you (except God, of course, but He loves you anyway).
The serve
An Ace: A job well done. Applaud but not because of what you did. Applaud that God used you, and no one saw. Don't you dare tell anyone what happened. Now, go do it again.
The Let: The job was completed, but you got caught in the act. Bounce the ball a few times, brush it off, and step up to the baseline. Take two. Don't get caught. Let God work.
It's Out: You pushed your own intentions, and the ball went long. You didn't do what needed to be done, and the ball went wide. That's ok. Try again. Whatever you do, don't let the ball fall short. Good intentions do nothing. Follow through.
<>< Katie
Note One: some of the ideas in this post come from Peder Eide. If you have never explored his Taste Worship ministry, I highly recommend you do so. Especially if you have a family. Which you do.
Note Two: The title of this post comes from a Michael W. Smith song from The Second Chance movie.
How's your serve?
Off the court, how's your serve? Invisible? Are you putting the towel on like Jesus and washing dirty, smelly feet? Are you getting dirty? Are you being used? Are you serving your own intentions or feeding the needs of others?
Honestly?
No one's judging you (except God, of course, but He loves you anyway).
The serve
An Ace: A job well done. Applaud but not because of what you did. Applaud that God used you, and no one saw. Don't you dare tell anyone what happened. Now, go do it again.
The Let: The job was completed, but you got caught in the act. Bounce the ball a few times, brush it off, and step up to the baseline. Take two. Don't get caught. Let God work.
It's Out: You pushed your own intentions, and the ball went long. You didn't do what needed to be done, and the ball went wide. That's ok. Try again. Whatever you do, don't let the ball fall short. Good intentions do nothing. Follow through.
<>< Katie
Note One: some of the ideas in this post come from Peder Eide. If you have never explored his Taste Worship ministry, I highly recommend you do so. Especially if you have a family. Which you do.
Note Two: The title of this post comes from a Michael W. Smith song from The Second Chance movie.
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Monday, May 10, 2010
Reading Day
Little secret: I am not athletic. Sometimes if I'm by myself I walk so fast that I'm winded by the time I get where I'm going, but that's the closest I ever get to running. Sports are not my strength. I played basketball in 5th grade and I got really good at catching the ball...with my nose. I spent enough nights at the eye doctor getting my glasses fixed that I realized the WMBA was not in my future. Fathers are supposed to teach their daughters how to throw and catch; somehow I missed that lesson. In seventh grade I took up tennis because I had a weapon against the ball. It wasn't long before I figured out my strongest spot on the tennis court was at the net because there's minimal running involved in a volley. I played for six years but then I graduated high school and now the most exercise I get is ten minutes on the Wii Fit. Knowing this about myself, I don't know why I ever thought this was a good idea.
Classes were cancelled on Friday, so we hosted our biannual kickball game. Last year the English department started a new tradition where we play kickball once a semester. For a year we played teams that basically boiled down to English Education vs. English Writing. Well, then the science department got jealous and in a cowardly way challenged us to kickball, calling themselves the superior department. If they were so superior I don't know why they needed to bring the math department with them in order to beat us but whatever. They won this past fall, and Friday was our opportunity to earn our ball back.
We had more players than they did, so some of our players didn't get to play in the field. Elizabeth and I took ones for the team and just kicked and cheered. My first two kicks I was out before making it to first base. My third kick I made it all the way to second but we already had two outs and the play at the first made three. My fourth kick I managed to eventually get all the way home scoring a point for the good guys. English won 16-12!
Sometime in the two minutes between when I got back to my apartment and when I was planning on getting in the shower, Chris called.
"Come play ultimate frisbee!"
Little known fact, it was one of my secret goals before graduating to play ultimate frisbee. It's kind of our school's favorite game, so I didn't think it would be right for me to graduate without playing. Even though I have one more year I figured now was as good a time as ever; plus, I was already sweaty. Oh, and still fighting this cold, minor detail.
"I'm not very good at frisbee," I told Chris.
"That's ok; I am," he said. Between the two of us we could be two average players.
I held my own and even touched the frisbee a few times. I didn't score, but Hannah (the girl I was guarding) didn't score either... except the first one which didn't count because it was part of warm ups. I really did enjoy myself and the "Oh, my gosh, I'm so out of shape and thirsty" feeling that I had for an hour. But I lived.
After getting cleaned up and eating Japanese for dinner, a few of us went to see a movie. It was 8:00 and I could have gone to be (mind you, I hadn't yet been awake for 12 hours that day). I almost made it all the way through the movie, too, but in the last ten minutes I made a mad-dash from the theater. Since I'm pretty prone to bloody noses, no one really thought anything of it. Nope, it's going to be a long time before I eat Japanese food again. :-( Other than for those few minutes, I feel fine; it's weird. Whatever. Although, more than that I'm more upset my no-puking streak has to start over at just shy of three years. Before that random stomach bug in the middle of July (who the heck gets sick in July? The kids I babysat...) it had been six and a half years. That's still my record. Oh, well. One day I will break it!
Happy Reading Day, Katie... next year you should stick to reading on Reading Day.
<>< Katie
Classes were cancelled on Friday, so we hosted our biannual kickball game. Last year the English department started a new tradition where we play kickball once a semester. For a year we played teams that basically boiled down to English Education vs. English Writing. Well, then the science department got jealous and in a cowardly way challenged us to kickball, calling themselves the superior department. If they were so superior I don't know why they needed to bring the math department with them in order to beat us but whatever. They won this past fall, and Friday was our opportunity to earn our ball back.
We had more players than they did, so some of our players didn't get to play in the field. Elizabeth and I took ones for the team and just kicked and cheered. My first two kicks I was out before making it to first base. My third kick I made it all the way to second but we already had two outs and the play at the first made three. My fourth kick I managed to eventually get all the way home scoring a point for the good guys. English won 16-12!
Sometime in the two minutes between when I got back to my apartment and when I was planning on getting in the shower, Chris called.
"Come play ultimate frisbee!"
Little known fact, it was one of my secret goals before graduating to play ultimate frisbee. It's kind of our school's favorite game, so I didn't think it would be right for me to graduate without playing. Even though I have one more year I figured now was as good a time as ever; plus, I was already sweaty. Oh, and still fighting this cold, minor detail.
"I'm not very good at frisbee," I told Chris.
"That's ok; I am," he said. Between the two of us we could be two average players.
I held my own and even touched the frisbee a few times. I didn't score, but Hannah (the girl I was guarding) didn't score either... except the first one which didn't count because it was part of warm ups. I really did enjoy myself and the "Oh, my gosh, I'm so out of shape and thirsty" feeling that I had for an hour. But I lived.
After getting cleaned up and eating Japanese for dinner, a few of us went to see a movie. It was 8:00 and I could have gone to be (mind you, I hadn't yet been awake for 12 hours that day). I almost made it all the way through the movie, too, but in the last ten minutes I made a mad-dash from the theater. Since I'm pretty prone to bloody noses, no one really thought anything of it. Nope, it's going to be a long time before I eat Japanese food again. :-( Other than for those few minutes, I feel fine; it's weird. Whatever. Although, more than that I'm more upset my no-puking streak has to start over at just shy of three years. Before that random stomach bug in the middle of July (who the heck gets sick in July? The kids I babysat...) it had been six and a half years. That's still my record. Oh, well. One day I will break it!
Happy Reading Day, Katie... next year you should stick to reading on Reading Day.
<>< Katie
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Wednesday, December 24, 2008
Twas the Night Before Christmas...
Today was a pretty close to miserable day. It took me a over an hour to do a drive that should take less than 45. I dropped my sister off at the movie theater and had a nice lunch with a friend. We sat down, and he teased that it was going to take him an hour to eat, but I didn't need to feel compelled to stay that long. Well, his food was finish and our conversation still raging in full gear.
After lunch, I pulled back into the theater parking lot just as the movie ended. We then had to go to the mall. One day before Christmas. In a blizzard. Puke.
It was very easy for me to say, "If the glasses people hadn't broken my glasses the first time they tried to fix them, I could just go home now and finish making Christmas cookies. Wrap the presents? Oh, yeah, gotta do that, too." No. I had to be sitting in the mall... for an hour... while they replaced the lens of my glasses and then tried to tell me I needed to pay for it. In reality, they broke it, and eventually they replaced the lens for free.
While I was stalling for an hour, I ran over to a department store looking for a specific item. Well, apparently they don't make the size I need. Surprise, surprise. My entire body doesn't fit into the sizes made. Shoes, pants, shirts, you name it... it doesn't fit properly... After many hours (or at least many, many minutes) of searching, a sales associate approached me and asked if I was finding everything alright. I answered honestly (no) and told her what I was looking for. She then tried to convince me I needed to sign up for a charge card for that particular store. Well, if I can't find the product I want, why do I need to save money by signing up for a card? I told her no literally four different times. She then went to find another sales associate to ask if they make the size I was looking for. The second associate said no without offering any other suggestion. I walked away in frustration, and I heard the two sales associates making jokes. Maybe they weren't directed at me, maybe they were just having fun, but I highly doubt it. Needless to say, I promptly left the store.
My sister and I left the mall and I asked her where the package was. Her boyfriend is coming for Christmas and I didn't know what to get him, so she was going to go buy something while I was picking up my glasses. Well, apparently she couldn't find what she was looking for, so she bought nothing. Now I have no present for Boy. For tomorrow. Crap.
Drove home. Yeah, let's plow the roads.
Found a message waiting for me from a friend who wants to get together before break is over. Well, I had most of last week free, but she couldn't do anything. Now I'm booked and she's moderately free. I really, really want to get together with her, but there seems to be no time. It's frustrating!
Ok, awful day, eh?
So I come home, wrap the presents I do have (I figured out something for Boy), and took out my anger on our Wii. I bowled a 168! That's a personal record for me. I then upped my skills level on Wii Tennis to 606 (We've had this game for two days...).
At least the virtual world likes me.
Although, my shoulder wants to kill me.
I hope your day was better than mine!
Tomorrow will be better. Tomorrow we remember the Savior of the world entering His creation in the form of an infant. Not just any infant, but an infant who was born in a stinky, smelly stable to a carpenter and his teenage wife-to-be. Perhaps my situation wasn't the only one that's less than perfect.
<>< Katie
After lunch, I pulled back into the theater parking lot just as the movie ended. We then had to go to the mall. One day before Christmas. In a blizzard. Puke.
It was very easy for me to say, "If the glasses people hadn't broken my glasses the first time they tried to fix them, I could just go home now and finish making Christmas cookies. Wrap the presents? Oh, yeah, gotta do that, too." No. I had to be sitting in the mall... for an hour... while they replaced the lens of my glasses and then tried to tell me I needed to pay for it. In reality, they broke it, and eventually they replaced the lens for free.
While I was stalling for an hour, I ran over to a department store looking for a specific item. Well, apparently they don't make the size I need. Surprise, surprise. My entire body doesn't fit into the sizes made. Shoes, pants, shirts, you name it... it doesn't fit properly... After many hours (or at least many, many minutes) of searching, a sales associate approached me and asked if I was finding everything alright. I answered honestly (no) and told her what I was looking for. She then tried to convince me I needed to sign up for a charge card for that particular store. Well, if I can't find the product I want, why do I need to save money by signing up for a card? I told her no literally four different times. She then went to find another sales associate to ask if they make the size I was looking for. The second associate said no without offering any other suggestion. I walked away in frustration, and I heard the two sales associates making jokes. Maybe they weren't directed at me, maybe they were just having fun, but I highly doubt it. Needless to say, I promptly left the store.
My sister and I left the mall and I asked her where the package was. Her boyfriend is coming for Christmas and I didn't know what to get him, so she was going to go buy something while I was picking up my glasses. Well, apparently she couldn't find what she was looking for, so she bought nothing. Now I have no present for Boy. For tomorrow. Crap.
Drove home. Yeah, let's plow the roads.
Found a message waiting for me from a friend who wants to get together before break is over. Well, I had most of last week free, but she couldn't do anything. Now I'm booked and she's moderately free. I really, really want to get together with her, but there seems to be no time. It's frustrating!
Ok, awful day, eh?
So I come home, wrap the presents I do have (I figured out something for Boy), and took out my anger on our Wii. I bowled a 168! That's a personal record for me. I then upped my skills level on Wii Tennis to 606 (We've had this game for two days...).
At least the virtual world likes me.
Although, my shoulder wants to kill me.
I hope your day was better than mine!
Tomorrow will be better. Tomorrow we remember the Savior of the world entering His creation in the form of an infant. Not just any infant, but an infant who was born in a stinky, smelly stable to a carpenter and his teenage wife-to-be. Perhaps my situation wasn't the only one that's less than perfect.
<>< Katie
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