The Hands that Rocked the Cradle (or should still be in it)

A few of my friends know about a complex of mine. I've always been aware and ashamed of my small hands. I'm 5' 8" and have the hands of a small child. I can barely hold a basketball, I drop things all the time and most winter gloves are too big for me.

Well, a friend of mine, Emily, became friends with a kid who I knew from school. We were never friends, but just knew each other since elementary and through high school. This kid and I have never even had a real conversation. When Emily and I discovered this little fact, Emily asked the kid if he remembered me and he was reponse was "Isn't she the girl with small hands?" Emily just laughed and said "Why yes, yes she is."

Emily knows very well about this complex and couldnt' wait to tell me what had happened. We decided to take pictures to show just how petite my hands are. The photos will be up soon, and once they are, you'll finally see just how small they are.

Comments

Mick and Tiff said…

Who is this boy from high school? That is funny that he picked that out without even really knowing you. I don't think I have even noticed your hands. Now that is the only thing I will be able to look at... Thanks!!! ha ha just kidding!

July 2, 2008 at 3:41 PM

David and Julie said…

I think it is a Johnson thing because Dean and I have small hands too! I can't believe that is what he remembered about you. Ay least you aren't known as the weirdo or something.

July 3, 2008 at 9:36 AM

When There's Nothing Left to Burn, You Have to Set Yourself on Fire

* UPDATE - So you can all cool your Japanese jets (Stacy), I've finally added the pictures* And so begins the theme song to my 4th of July adventure –Your Ex-Lover is Dead, by Stars. For the 4th of July, I headed south and east to Blanding with my friend Nicole. Nicole grew up in Blanding and a lot of her family still lives there. We left Thursday night and began the 5 hour drive around 7:00 pm. Nicole brought along her dog Bella, an imperial shitzu, which translates to “a pain in the ass”. Picture a chicken nugget with legs – this is Nicole’s dog. Now Bella isn’t disobedient, she just hates me and I hate her. Bella loves to bark and when she barks, she spits – I refer to it as sparking. I was sparked on all weekend – not my favorite thing. Well, Nicole and I finally arrived in Blanding around midnight and the town was alive and buzzing. Every 3rd of July they start a softball game that lasts until 3 or 4 am. Nicole and I didn’t play, but the entire town was there, it was great.

I know you are, but what am I?

I know that majority of my posts are rants - but that's who I am and I ask you not to judge me. Today's rant is for engaged people everywhere. I have lots of married friends and several engaged friends and about 90% of them have all comitted this crime - the crime of assuming that because they are engaged and happy that I must follow suit. I love to celebrate an engagement/wedding; it's an exciting time and deserves rejoicing but doesn't need to be used as a tool to discuss with me my current state of bliss (which is usually quite high). I was talking with The Pirate the other day about this very topic. We both have engaged people in our lives who are now suddenly wanting to know who we are dating, who we like, what are we doing to "find our eternal best friend", etc. I'm very happy for these friends, but I'm not quite sure why the mantle of happiness spreader comes to them. Is there a sense of obligation that an engaged person feels to help others

Chivalry isn't dead, it's killing me.

I've got a bump on my head and a headache - all from my friend opening the door for me. The other day my friend and I attempted to go shopping to try and find him some new clothes. This friend of mine is a complete gentlemen. He insists on opening car doors, building doors, getting your chair, etc. So as we approached the mall, he went to get the door and I waited. Quick side note: For those of you who have known me a long time, you may know that I rarely wait for guys to get the door. For a long time I never had a guy friend who got the door. If I saw I door, I'd open it and just bust on through (kind of like Kramer). Why wait? Well I started hanging out with gentlemanly friends and started adopting some patience for these door opening men. So Friend grabbed the door and I started to walk through and then WHAMO! The door had slammed me in the head. I was so disoriented from the hit that I just stood there and looked around. I looked back at Friend and his face was froz

It's a win-win-win situation

Search This Blog