The Days and Nights of Robierto

So I have been attending our ward choir. Not because I really want to but because, like all good Mormons, my guilt compels me there. I am not a great singer by any stretch of the word but I can carry a tune and I can sight read music a little.  So by ward choir standards I am freakin’ Luciano Pavarotti. So the choir director makes me sit next to a guy who can’t sing his way out of a wet paper sack, in hopes that he can follow me and pick up on how to sing parts. However, in the last few rehearsals a development has started that I don’t love concerning this brother. He keeps criticizing me on how I sing. “You sang that part wrong”, “You are singing “yeah” instead of “yea”, and my personal favorite “you are sing to loud, who do you think you are Luciano Pavarotti?”. I have tried to bite my lip and thank him for his constant critiques of my already fragile self-esteem when it comes to my ability to sing, but enough is enough. I think this brother is why more fist...

Don’t you hate it when you go to the dentist and after examining your mouth, he looks at you with a raised eyebrow and asks, “ Have you been brushing and flossing every day like I told you to do on your last visit? ” And very truthfully I say, “ Yes sir. I floss and brush at least two times a day and sometimes I gargle after a filling lunch.” And then he gives me this look, like, “ How dare you turn my dental office into a den of LIES .” And then I feel like I have to apologize because I wasn’t taking better care of MY mouth. As if somehow my dental “ goody ” bag was tied to the regularity of my flossing. And then I drive home feeling guilty for something that I was already doing to begin with. I am not sure how I feel about it. Maybe it’s time to stop going to a pediatric dentist. 

I love this so much that it needs to be shared. My three favorite muppets performing a very special St. Patrick's Day song. Friends, I give you the musical stylings of Beacker, The Swedish Chef, and my favorite, sweet, sweet, Animal.

So I finally bought new pants. Yes friends, I finally found a normal pair of pants that weren't skinny fit tailored to fit a 16 year old girl. Thank you Macys for clothing the unusually tall man. Yesterday at church as I was wearing my new pants, I had occasion to put my hands in my pocket and noticed there was a slip of paper inside. Which read "Ask salesperson for mate" Well you can imagine how sad I felt knowing that if I had only found this slip of paper sooner I could not only have wound up with not only a pair of fine looking slacks, but also an eternal companion from Macy's. As I returned to Macy's to ask the salesperson for my mate, she informed me that the "free mate with purchase of a regular priced dress pant" event had ended last week.

Have you ever talked to someone with a Lazy Eye? I mean, bless their hearts for carrying the burden of that because that has got to be rough. And just FYI, my intent today is not to make fun of these wonderfully courageous people who go about their daily lives with the challenge of having an eye that fades ever so slightly to the left… or to the right. But rather, my intent is to come up with some protocol so that when I address these brave people I can make them feel more at ease. This has been on my mind because this week I had an occasion to talk to a gentleman with the lazy eye malady. I was trying to look him in straight in the eye, but then I noticed that his other eye was looking somewhere else. So then I thought, “That must be his good eye”, so then I switched my focus.  But through the course of our conversation I kept second guessing myself as to which eye was his “good eye”. So then my eyes started darting back and forth because I wasn’t sure which eye I wa...

Have you ever gone to Costco and wondered what the reasoning behind that person with the Sharpie that strikes a line through your receipt as you exit is?  I guess it’s to stop shoplifting. But if I am honest with myself, and I would like to think that I am , how in the world does one shoplift at Costco? Everything is like the size of a grand piano. I mean, I guess if you had a huge hoop skirt or trench coat you might be able to hide a pallet of muffins or a hamper of Alaskan crab legs close to your person. But the likelihood of that happening isn’t that high… unless you where in some kind of high school choir, then you probably have a dress that you could hide some pretty amazing things under. I think the Sharpie Costco worker might be wasting my time and theirs. That sweet Costco worker might be better served working in the kitchen where they can serve me a “slice” or a delicious hot dog and a drink.