At what point is sharp cheddar cheese too sharp? I bought a hunk of it at Costco a while ago. Seriously, I have been trying so hard to use up the cinderblock-sized cheddar on my own. (Lesson learned: you can’t be single — marital and tax form status speaking — and shop at Costco.)

There is no mold. So, no mold = still good.

Right?!

I already opened a bad can of tuna. I don’t know if I could take the retirement of my precious culinary staple!

My lovely and smart friend Lauren wants to know: What is the purpose of discouragement?

I’ve also been furious at various points throughout the last 48 hours, because I can’t figure out the purpose of discouragement. It seems like most of our feelings serve us in some way: pain tells me I’ve been hurt or lost something I cared about and makes life more rich, anger tells me I’ve been violated and makes life more rich, happiness or pleasure tells me I love something or someone and makes life more rich.

Almost all feelings motivate us to take action of some kind: action to keep something that makes us happy, to right something that makes us angry, to soothe some pain we have after loss. But discouragement is the un-motivator. … your efforts make no difference in the results - you ought to just stop trying.

Sappy (who I don’t happen to know. Hello, Sappy.) says that discouragement stops false hope, with an example of a hopeless male pining over a disinterested female. And honestly, I was so pleased with my comment, that I couldn’t help but re-post it:

But aren’t there cute movies/Christian dating books to tell us that discouragement, in the romantic setting, is just another hurdle to go over? You always hear those stories:

She says: He asked me out 150 times and I said no 149 times. I just felt so bad for him, and hoped the asking would stop if I just went out with him once.

He says: Everytime she rejected me, I went home, prayed and wrote in a journal. And when the journal was filled up with “she said no, but I’m going to keep trying because it is God’s will that I follow His calling to make missionary babies with her” entries, I put a bow around it and presented it to her on our first date. She read it, drank some potion wine, looked deeply into the swinging medallion my eyes, and she said she would be mine.

She Zombie says: It was meant to be.

Last December I went to an expensive salon and had my hair highlighted and cut. It looked fantastic. From about June until now, it looks anything but fantastic.

Enter conundrum (dun dun dun!): I have to take senior pictures on Monday. My hair is majorly slashy (half blonde, half brown). I desperately want to buy a box of dye when I go grocery shopping today. But I know better than this. Last time I bought a box and my hair turned orange. I bought another box and my hair turned black. I then had to buy an emergency dye at a moderately priced salon. (But, I did get bangs in the process, and for that I am glad.)

So, to buy a box or not to buy a box? To beg the salon people to take in this lost cause or not to beg the salon people to take in this lost cause that’s getting loster by the second? Why I do this to myself? Those, my friends, are the questions.

Hmmm. Calling mom to see what she has to say. She’s the one that wants them, anyway.

Southwest Airlines is the best. Not only do they have Rapid Rewards, each flight is unpredictable. It’s like a guaranteed adventure whenever you fly.

First Class
As I boarded the Bay Area-bound plane, I snagged a second-row seat. Stress-faced people piled in as usual, when an older, funny looking man jubilantly approached the man sitting in front of me. “I’ve seen you on TV!” he exclaimed.

He must be crazy, famous people don’t fly Southwest. But I was alert because I am terrible at recognizing celebrities in real life. I shared a quick, giddy glance at the young man sitting next to me and we slowly inched our heads over the seat.

We were forced back down with the overwhelming gleam of bling. “It’s Fat Joe!” we whisper, more loudly than we had hoped. And yes, he was leaning back! “Fat who?!” shouted the oblivious woman at the window seat. “Hey mister, are those earrings real?” No lady, only you are wearing dime-sized cubic zirconium.

I would have never guessed the flight attendant would know who he was. As if it were usual, the flight attendant donned his diamond and gold encrusted “TS” necklace and went through with the safety demonstrations. Later she begged for a picture for her daughter who loves him (I find that hard to believe) and the picture of Fat Joe and her mom “would mean the world to her.” Gag. And, if it couldn’t get worse, she pulled the old my-seatbelt-is-broken-and-I-have-to-sit-right-next-to-you routine.

A Frenzy of Flight Firsts
You know the flight is going to be great when the security queue stretches the length of two football fields and your flight leaves in 40 minutes. I’ve never see it that bad before. Did they realize I woke up early? 5:15 a.m., people!

Yet, standing in line was actually quite enjoyable. I had to hide my giggles from the people turning the corner to see that YES THE LINE WAS THAT LONG. They were so angry, and angry is not making the line any shorter. I’m sooooo sorry that your Prada shoes and matching rolly briefcase are offroading in the gravel. Boostinkinghoo. But thank the Lord, I made it to my flight. Southwest actually did me a favor by having me wait in just one line and not the dreaded ABC line. And if I had missed my flight, there was another one leaving a half hour after it.

Another first was actually seeing someone I know on the airplane. I mean, I barely see anyone I know anywhere, partly because I have no friends. But who should sit next to me, but a guy who was on my team at St. Pat’s Hat! It was a smart move on his part – avoiding the crazies in rows 1-13 and sitting between two college girls.

After completing an hour’s worth of small talk all the way to baggage claim, I encountered my final first: lost luggage. Again, I could be angry like everyone else. But instead I was so thankful, because that bag was heavy and I didn’t have to carry it! I think Pete was attracted to my cheery attitude. Not only did he ask for my number and address, but he gave me his business card and signed it (Love, Pete. Yes, with a period. But no, not love). He told me to call him. Psssh! As if! Besides, I alredy gave my number to Fat Joe. He’s blingin’ and Pete’s wing pin just wasn’t doing it for me.

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Matt’s demanding credit for showing me this. I’d probably do the same.

“Elements of Style Illustrated.” So excited to get this. I wonder if there’s a swimsuit issue.

Man, my mom (and probably my housemates) don’t understand why I can’t keep my room clean. But they don’t understand the train wreck that is my iTunes. There’s stuff back from the Audiogalaxy days! Back when I thought downloading Disneyland and Simpsons clips was cool. But hey, Abigail enjoyed the Electrical Light Parade in French.

Okay, back to cleaning my iTunes room. Living at home may be free, but keeping my room clean under the eyes of my parents is worse than paying rent.

My dad and I went to breakfast this morning. We rode in the woodie. I don’t remember the last time we’ve had breakfast together. I’d eaten at Ole’s only once before, with Matt. But I didn’t want to tell my dad that.

We talked about life after graduation: living situations, jobs and the possibility of marriage. Yeah, it was a little awkward.

He is proud of me. He wants me to travel and write, be successful and happy. Don’t let any one or any guy stand in the way of what you want to do, he tells me. I forget sometimes how much my dad supports women’s liberation, only when it comes to me. But really, I don’t know what I want.

It’s the first time I’ve thought seriously about what I’m doing with my life. I confess, I’m a little concerned. For the first time, life on my own seems a little daunting. Job. Salary. Marriage. Rent. Mortgage. Family. Bills. Fun?

Sitting there in that noisy, orange restaurant, I looked at my waffle. (It looked a lot like the one in the picture, minus the globs of butter and syrup. I don’t drown my breakfast.) I was sad that there was only one quarter left. It tasted pretty good, and wasn’t really ready to be done. But lunch looms on the horizon, along with dreams of dessert. Breakfast was good while it lasted, but who doesn’t love a good sandwich?

The Corn Maze

Can you believe we’re trusting these two, Robot and Christine, to guide us?

Think it’s funny to try and scare me?

I push people who try and scare me

Robot’s smart enough to scare other people

And Christine, well, she’s scaring me with her bride of frankenstein ‘do … though she works it

Me? I just try and make nice with the corn

The navigators steer us in circles

Must be more friendly with the corn

I’m lost!

All tuckered out after an hour in the maze

And the prize at the end of the maze — the ultimate bucket

What can I say? The trip home was well worth it to have fun with some of my favorite people! And it’s only getting better!

Christine, Robot, Matt and I went to a corn maze today. It was really easy until the second half. I thought it was funny that the clues had girl scout and Bible trivia. I got almost all the Bible right. Yay Bible school.

It took us a little over an hour, but it felt like 15 minutes. I want to go again. Pictures to follow.