She would say in her very thick Mexican accent,
"I found you a blouse today."
I never have liked to hear the word spoken aloud. I especially don't like to say blouse. It makes me feel funny.
Fussy.
Blouse.
Ew.
Why can't people just say shirt or top or round neck tunic with puffed sleeves?
Every time my mom said blouse when I was growing up I would cringe internally.
Now I say it and cringe externally.
I need to quit pulling so many weird faces. It's giving me fine lines and wrinkles.
My son went to the symphony with his 3rd grade class today. I bought him a blue shirt for the occasion.
It felt like a good day to snap some blog pics so I wore a blue blouse. For the purpose of matching. We don't match at all though. We GO. There's a difference. Look it up.
I also wore a belt. The belt bugs though because it does a hangy thing and there is no loop to control the motion of the ocean.
Check it.
See? I have a dangler. It bugged all day. What are you supposed to do with the extra belt you got hangin'? I tried clipping it shut with bobby pins. But I looked especially uncool. Too obvious.
I took my blouse and belt to the Mormon temple in Mesa, AZ.
Mesa is about a 2 hour drive from Here.
Satan tried to kill me in my blue blouse on the way back from the temple.
A TRAIN almost got me 'cause I was distracted. Talking to my mom. All of the sudden I was ON A TRAIN TRACK! IN MY DAD'S TRUCK! Train was coming. I could SEE it! Red lights were flashing. I was THIS CLOSE! Satan does not like when people do good and spiritual things. (My near death experience had nothing to do with my lack of attention. It was clearly SATAN. I am Mexican and Mormon both, so I get to be as superstitious as I WANT!)
I'm glad I survived the Demon Train so I could come back and tell you that I had a wonderful lunch before going into the temple.
Italian.
I ate far too much and literally had to loosen my belt a notch. It shortened the excess a bit, which was nice.
Here is my sister, Michelle, and me, in my blue blouse.
I feel snugly in my blouse and belt. Like I want to hug my serious sister. I love my baby sis. She is very serious and reads lots of impressive books and likes to write blog posts regarding the sins of humanity and how best to rectify them.
Michelle is far more mature than I. Like Nephi.
I don't think I'm Laman or Lemuel by any means. I feel like a Zoram. Or a Sariah sans murmuring. Actually, no. I am Samuel The Lamanite.
Samuel The Lamanite was protected by God when he cried repentance to the wicked people in The Book of Mormon. He stood on a tall wall. Men shot at him with arrows (of outrageous fortune) but none could touch him because his work was not yet done.
I almost got hit by a train today. So I am Sam.
My mom is the best mom in the world. If I were to use ONE word to describe her I would use the word generous, inspired, classy, cultured, well-read, service oriented, strong, and beautiful.
I don't know what I would do without her. I'd like to say I'd cry without her. But she has always said, "My daughters had better NOT cry."
She wants us to be tough. Leaders. Spiritually self-reliant. Happy.
I am all of those things. (But I am also a crybaby. I think I got that from my dad. :)
She did a decent job with me.
It will be a while before I wear this blue blouse again.
Time to hang it up.
It has had a busy day.
PS I am leaving town in the morning. I am running my half marathon on Saturday. Wish me luck! :) Hopefully Satan won't try to kill me. I'll let ya know.
