Feeling Turquoise

January 18, 2013

Blogging is the last thing I should be doing right now (Martha is going to be mad at me), but I woke up feeling a tiny bit blue today, and I knew that talking with my bloggy friends would fill me with cheer.

Denise, why are you blue? you ask. (You didn’t really ask that, but you should have. It’s rude for someone to admit that they’re blue and then not ask what’s wrong. Also, why are you “feeling blue” when you’re sad? Where does that come from? Let me scour the Internets to see … umm, the Internets are proving to be unreliable. I’m finding all kinds of theories for the etymology of “feeling blue.” Some people say it has to do with rain or the fact that blue is a dark color (boring). Others say it has to do with Zeus, which I think also has to do with the idea of storms (less boring). Others say it has to do with deepwater ships. If the ship lost a captain or crewmember during its voyage, it would fly blue flags on its return (least boring, but I’m not sure I buy it). Also, I think we could be more creative. What about feeling aquamarine? Or feeling navy? Or feeling Carolina blue? Thanks for nothing, Internet! Although I did find Tobias.)

blue

Where was I? Oh, yes. The blueness. Basically, I have so many things to do and none of them are fun. That makes me a bit whiny and sad. For the next two months, my life consists of the library and frantic writing/studying. It’s the worst. A rough draft of my thesis is due by March 18. And a rough draft it shall be. Most programs at my school either do a thesis or comprehensive exams. I wisely (unwisely) chose the program that does both. That means that I will be taking a six-hour essay test on March 2. This test covers everything I’ve supposedly learned at school. And according to the reading list, it also covers a whole lot of stuff I’ve never learned. I’m supposed to study for this test for two months. I am behind. I am also teaching two Old Testament classes at Colorado Christian University, doing other freelance projects, taking Greek and trying to keep up with the demands of Pinterest and Facebook. It’s a lot, you guys. Feeling blue.

But let’s move on and talk about some happy things.

* The Bachelor is back, which means that Knox McCoy is back! He is the only reason to suffer through that show, and he makes it so worth it.

* This is a thing.

soraven

* I started teaching at CCU this past week. I am a professor! I’ve already had fun teaching the kids things about the Old Testament, and I think they didn’t hate it. I’ve also already received bribes in the form of Skittles, so my plans are going perfectly.

* I ran away from work and spent two weeks in Canada over Christmas. Andrew’s family goes to a hot springs resort every year, and it was lovely. Our days consisted of sleeping in, eating breakfast, lounging around, going snowshoeing or hiking or skiing, eating a snack, taking a nap, eating dinner, playing wallyball, going to the hot tub, eating a snack, playing a game, and going to sleep. I literally never knew what day it was because time didn’t matter. So relaxing.

This is wallyball, by the way. Notice my fierce athleticism as I gently tap the ball into the net because I have absolutely no skills.

wallyball

Andrew took me cross-country skiing one day, which was a huge treat for him. I’ve done it before in Minnesota, but on a very flat trail. The trail we were on had a few hills. Guys, cross-country skis have no edges. You’re trusting your feet to two long sticks of sheer gliding crap. I fell about 16,000 times, and the trail that should have taken us about 35 minutes took over 40 hours. I was crabby and prideful, and Andrew was patient with me. (Also, he laughed at me a lot, which was rude.)

* My mom sent me a DVD of the PBS series Frontier House. I love it, you guys. It’s about three modern-day families who do a project in which they go live in Montana for five months. But they live as though they were in the 1880s! They build cabins and milk cows and sew clothes and grow crops. It’s like Little House brought to life. This is what I would have died to do when I was 10. Here’s the thing, though. Life was hard in the 1880s! Just think of all the whining I’d have to do! It’s fun to watch, though.

* And finally, Grumpy Cat is always feeling more blue than I am. And that cheers me up.

wrongnumber

Okey, dokey. I feel better. Have a really wonderful weekend, friends!

Advertisements

2 Responses to “Feeling Turquoise”

  1. Suzanne said

    Oh, Denise. I so feel you on this. That’s the problem … 1.2 million, billion things to do and few of them fun. Thankfully, these things are generally a season that passes … and then on to fun and joy! Thanks for the pick-me-up.

  2. Anonymous said

    You too ๐Ÿ˜„๐Ÿ˜ƒ๐Ÿ˜€๐Ÿ˜Šโ˜บ๐Ÿ˜‰๐Ÿ˜๐Ÿ˜›๐Ÿ˜๐Ÿ˜œ๐Ÿ˜™๐Ÿ˜—๐Ÿ˜š๐Ÿ˜˜๐Ÿ˜ณ๐Ÿ˜๐Ÿ˜”๐Ÿ˜Œ๐Ÿ˜’๐Ÿ˜ž๐Ÿ˜ฃ๐Ÿ˜ข๐Ÿ˜‚๐Ÿ˜ญ๐Ÿ˜ช๐Ÿ˜ฅ๐Ÿ˜ฐ๐Ÿ˜…๐Ÿ˜ก๐Ÿ˜ ๐Ÿ˜ฑ๐Ÿ˜จ๐Ÿ˜ซ๐Ÿ˜ฉ๐Ÿ˜“๐Ÿ˜ค๐Ÿ˜–๐Ÿ˜†๐Ÿ˜‹๐Ÿ˜ท๐Ÿ˜Ž๐Ÿ˜ด๐Ÿ˜ต๐Ÿ˜ฒ๐Ÿ˜Ÿ๐Ÿ˜ฆ๐Ÿ˜ง๐Ÿ˜ˆ๐Ÿ˜‡๐Ÿ˜ถ๐Ÿ˜ฏ๐Ÿ˜•๐Ÿ˜๐Ÿ˜ฌ๐Ÿ˜ฎ๐Ÿ˜๐Ÿ˜‘๐Ÿ‘ฒ๐Ÿ‘ณ๐Ÿ‘ฎ๐Ÿ‘ท๐Ÿ’‚๐Ÿ‘ถ๐Ÿ‘ฆ๐Ÿ‘ง๐Ÿ‘จ๐Ÿ‘ฉ๐Ÿ‘ด๐Ÿ‘ต๐Ÿ˜ฝ๐Ÿ˜ป๐Ÿ˜ธ๐Ÿ‘ธ๐Ÿ‘ผ๐Ÿ‘ฑ๐Ÿ‘ฑ๐Ÿ˜ผ๐Ÿ™€๐Ÿ˜ฟ๐Ÿ˜น๐Ÿ˜พ๐Ÿ‘น๐Ÿ‘บ๐Ÿ™ˆ๐Ÿ™‰๐Ÿ™Š๐Ÿ’€๐Ÿ‘ฝ๐Ÿ’ฉ๐Ÿ”ฅ๐Ÿ’ง๐Ÿ’ฆ๐Ÿ’ข๐Ÿ’ซ๐ŸŒŸโœจโœจ๐Ÿ’ค๐Ÿ’จ๐Ÿ‘‚๐Ÿ‘€๐Ÿ‘ƒ๐Ÿ‘…๐Ÿ‘„๐Ÿ‘๐Ÿ‘Ž๐Ÿ‘Œ๐Ÿ‘ŠโœŠโœŒ๐Ÿ‘‹๐Ÿ™Œ๐Ÿ‘ˆ๐Ÿ‘‰๐Ÿ‘‡๐Ÿ‘†๐Ÿ‘โœ‹๐Ÿ™โ˜๐Ÿ‘๐Ÿ’ช๐Ÿšถ๐Ÿƒ๐Ÿ’ƒ๐Ÿ‘ซ๐Ÿ‘ช๐Ÿ‘ฌ๐Ÿ‘ญ๐Ÿ’๐Ÿ’‘๐Ÿ‘ฏ๐Ÿ’…๐Ÿ’†๐Ÿ’†๐Ÿ’๐Ÿ™…๐Ÿ™†๐Ÿ™†๐Ÿ‘ฐ๐Ÿ™Ž๐Ÿ™๐Ÿ™‡๐ŸŽฉ๐Ÿ‘‘๐Ÿ‘Ÿ๐Ÿ‘ž๐Ÿ‘ก๐Ÿ‘ ๐Ÿ‘ข๐Ÿ‘•๐Ÿ‘”๐Ÿ’ผ๐Ÿ‘˜๐Ÿ‘–๐ŸŽฝ๐Ÿ‘—๐Ÿ‘š๐Ÿ‘œ๐Ÿ‘๐Ÿ‘›๐Ÿ‘“๐ŸŽ€๐ŸŒ‚๐Ÿ’›๐Ÿ’™๐Ÿ’œ๐Ÿ’šโค๐Ÿ’”๐Ÿ’—๐Ÿ’‹๐Ÿ’Œ๐Ÿ’ž๐Ÿ’–๐Ÿ’•๐Ÿ’“๐Ÿ’๐Ÿ’“๐Ÿ’Ž๐Ÿ‘ค๐Ÿ‘ฅ๐Ÿ’ฌ๐Ÿ‘ฃ๐Ÿถ๐Ÿบ๐Ÿฑ๐Ÿญ๐Ÿน๐Ÿฐ๐Ÿธ๐Ÿ—๐Ÿฎ๐Ÿฝ๐Ÿท๐Ÿป๐Ÿจ๐Ÿฏ๐Ÿต๐Ÿ’๐Ÿด๐Ÿ‘๐Ÿ˜๐Ÿผ๐Ÿง๐Ÿฆ๐Ÿค๐Ÿฅ๐Ÿฃ๐Ÿ”๐Ÿ๐Ÿข๐Ÿš๐Ÿ™๐ŸŒ๐Ÿž๐Ÿœ๐Ÿ๐Ÿ›๐Ÿ ๐ŸŸ๐Ÿฌ๐Ÿณ๐Ÿ‹๐Ÿ„๐Ÿ€๐Ÿƒ๐Ÿ…๐Ÿ‡๐Ÿ‰๐ŸŽ๐Ÿ๐Ÿก๐Ÿฒ๐Ÿ‚๐Ÿ๐Ÿ–๐Ÿ•๐Ÿ“๐ŸŠ๐Ÿซ๐Ÿช๐Ÿ†๐Ÿˆ๐Ÿฉ๐Ÿ’๐ŸŒธ๐ŸŒท๐Ÿ€๐ŸŒน๐ŸŒป๐ŸŒบ๐ŸŒต๐Ÿ„๐ŸŒพ๐ŸŒฟ๐Ÿ‚๐Ÿƒ๐Ÿ๐ŸŒด๐ŸŒฒ๐ŸŒณ๐ŸŒฐ๐ŸŒฑ๐ŸŒผ๐ŸŒ๐ŸŒž๐ŸŒ๐ŸŒš๐ŸŒ‘๐ŸŒ’๐ŸŒ“๐ŸŒ”๐ŸŒ™๐ŸŒ›๐ŸŒœ๐ŸŒ˜๐ŸŒ—๐ŸŒ–๐ŸŒ•๐ŸŒ๐ŸŒŽ๐ŸŒ๐ŸŒ‹๐ŸŒŒ๐ŸŒ โญโ˜€โ›…โ˜โšกโ˜”โ„โ›„๐ŸŒŠ๐ŸŒˆ๐ŸŒ๐ŸŒ€๐ŸŽ๐Ÿ’๐ŸŽŽ๐ŸŽ’๐ŸŽ“๐ŸŽ๐ŸŽ†๐ŸŽ„๐ŸŽ…๐Ÿ‘ป๐ŸŽƒ๐ŸŽ‘๐ŸŽ๐ŸŽ‡๐ŸŽ๐ŸŽ‹๐ŸŽ‰๐ŸŽŠ๐ŸŽˆ๐ŸŽŒ๐Ÿ”ฎ๐ŸŽฅ๐Ÿ“ท๐Ÿ“น๐Ÿ“ผ๐Ÿ’ฟ๐Ÿ“€๐Ÿ’ฝ๐Ÿ“ ๐Ÿ“Ÿ๐Ÿ“ž๐Ÿ“ฑ๐Ÿ’ป๐Ÿ’ป๐Ÿ’พ๐Ÿ“ก๐Ÿ“บ๐Ÿ“ป๐Ÿ”Š๐Ÿ”‰๐Ÿ”ˆ๐Ÿ”‡๐Ÿ””๐Ÿ”•๐Ÿ“ข๐Ÿ“ฃโณโŒ›โฐ๐Ÿ”Ž๐Ÿ”‘๐Ÿ”๐Ÿ”๐Ÿ”’๐Ÿ”“โŒš๐Ÿ’ก๐Ÿ”ฆ๐Ÿ”†๐Ÿ”…๐Ÿ”Œ๐Ÿ”‹๐Ÿ”๐Ÿ›๐Ÿ›€๐Ÿšฟ๐Ÿšฝ๐Ÿ”ง๐Ÿ”ฉ๐Ÿ”จ๐Ÿ’‰๐Ÿ’Š๐Ÿ”ช๐Ÿ”ซ๐Ÿ’ฃ๐Ÿšฌ๐Ÿšช๐Ÿ’ฐ๐Ÿ’ด๐Ÿ’ต๐Ÿ’ท๐Ÿ’ถ๐Ÿ’ณ๐Ÿ’ธ๐Ÿ“ฒ๐Ÿ“ง๐Ÿ“ฅ๐Ÿ“คโœ‰๐Ÿ“ฉ๐Ÿ“จ๐Ÿ“ฆ๐Ÿ“ฎ๐Ÿ“ญ๐Ÿ“ฌ๐Ÿ“ช๐Ÿ“ซ๐Ÿ“ฏ๐Ÿ“๐Ÿ“„๐Ÿ“ƒ๐Ÿ“‘๐Ÿ“Š๐Ÿ“ˆ๐Ÿ“‰๐Ÿ“œ๐Ÿ“‹๐Ÿ“…๐Ÿ“†๐Ÿ“‡๐Ÿ“๐Ÿ“‚๐Ÿ“๐Ÿ“โœโœ’๐Ÿ“Œ๐Ÿ“Œโœ‚๐Ÿ“•๐Ÿ“—๐Ÿ“˜๐Ÿ“™๐Ÿ““๐Ÿ“”๐Ÿ“’๐Ÿ“š๐Ÿ“–๐Ÿ”–๐Ÿ“›๐Ÿ”ฌ๐Ÿ”ญ๐Ÿ“ฐ๐ŸŽถ๐ŸŽต๐ŸŽผ๐ŸŽง๐ŸŽค๐ŸŽฌ๐ŸŽจ๐ŸŽน๐ŸŽป๐ŸŽบ๐ŸŽท๐Ÿ‘พ๐ŸŽฎ๐Ÿƒ๐ŸŽด๐Ÿ€„๐ŸŽฒ๐ŸŽฏ๐Ÿˆ๐Ÿ€๐Ÿ‚๐ŸŽณ๐Ÿ‰๐ŸŽฑ๐ŸŽพโšพโšฝ๐Ÿšต๐Ÿšด๐Ÿ๐Ÿ‡๐Ÿ†๐ŸŽฟ๐Ÿ‚๐ŸŠ๐Ÿ„๐ŸŽฃโ˜•๐Ÿต๐Ÿถ๐Ÿผ๐Ÿ•๐Ÿด๐Ÿท๐Ÿน๐Ÿธ๐Ÿป๐Ÿบ๐Ÿ”๐ŸŸ๐Ÿ—๐Ÿ–๐Ÿ๐Ÿ›๐Ÿค๐Ÿฑ๐Ÿฃ๐Ÿฅ๐Ÿ™๐Ÿ˜๐Ÿš๐Ÿœ๐Ÿฎ๐Ÿฉ๐Ÿž๐Ÿก๐Ÿก๐Ÿข๐Ÿฒ๐Ÿฆ๐Ÿจ๐Ÿง๐ŸŽ‚๐Ÿฐ๐Ÿช๐Ÿซ๐Ÿฌ๐Ÿญ๐Ÿฏ๐ŸŽ๐Ÿ๐ŸŠ๐Ÿ‹๐ŸŒ๐Ÿˆ๐Ÿ‘๐Ÿ“๐Ÿ‰๐Ÿ‡๐Ÿ’๐Ÿ๐Ÿ๐Ÿ ๐Ÿ†๐Ÿ…๐ŸŒฝ๐ŸŽฐโ™จ๐Ÿ—ฟ๐ŸŽช๐ŸŽญ๐Ÿ“๐Ÿšฉ๐Ÿ‡ช๐Ÿ‡ธ๐Ÿ‡ซ๐Ÿ‡ท๐Ÿ‡บ๐Ÿ‡ธ๐Ÿ‡จ๐Ÿ‡ณ๐Ÿ‡ฉ๐Ÿ‡ช๐Ÿ‡ฐ๐Ÿ‡ท๐Ÿ‡ฏ๐Ÿ‡ต๐Ÿ‡ฎ๐Ÿ‡น๐Ÿ‡ท๐Ÿ‡บ๐Ÿšจ๐Ÿš“๐Ÿš”๐Ÿš’๐Ÿš‘๐Ÿš๐Ÿšฒ๐ŸŽซ๐Ÿš๐Ÿ’ˆ๐Ÿšœ๐ŸšŸ๐ŸšŸ๐Ÿšฆ๐Ÿšฅโš ๐Ÿ”ฐ๐Ÿ”ฐโ›ฝ๐Ÿฎ๐ŸšŠ๐Ÿš‰๐Ÿšž๐Ÿš†๐Ÿš„๐Ÿš…๐Ÿšˆ๐Ÿš๐ŸšŒ๐ŸšŽ๐Ÿšƒ๐Ÿš‹๐Ÿš๐Ÿš‡๐Ÿš™๐Ÿš˜๐Ÿš—๐Ÿš•๐Ÿš–๐Ÿš›๐Ÿšš๐Ÿ—พ๐Ÿ—ป๐ŸŒ„๐ŸŒ…๐ŸŒƒ๐Ÿ—ฝ๐ŸŒ‰๐Ÿšคโ›ต๐Ÿšข๐ŸŽขโ›ฒ๐ŸŽก๐ŸŽ ๐Ÿšฃโš“๐Ÿš€โœˆ๐Ÿ’บ๐Ÿš๐Ÿš‚๐Ÿ ๐Ÿก๐Ÿซ๐Ÿข๐Ÿฃ๐Ÿฅ๐Ÿฆ๐Ÿค๐Ÿฌโ›ช๐Ÿ’’๐Ÿจ๐Ÿฉ๐Ÿช๐ŸŒ‡๐ŸŒ†๐Ÿฏ๐Ÿฐโ›บ๐Ÿญ๐Ÿ—ผ1โƒฃ2โƒฃ3โƒฃ4โƒฃ5โƒฃ6โƒฃ7โƒฃ๐Ÿ”ฃ#โƒฃ๐Ÿ”ข๐Ÿ”Ÿ0โƒฃ9โƒฃ8โƒฃโฌ†โฌ‡โฌ…โžก๐Ÿ” ๐Ÿ”ก๐Ÿ”คโ†—โ†–โ†˜โ†™โ†”โ†•๐Ÿ”„โ„นโ†ชโ†ฉ๐Ÿ”ฝ๐Ÿ”ผโ–ถโ—€โชโฉโซโฌโคตโคด๐Ÿ†—๐Ÿ”€๐Ÿ”๐Ÿ”‚๐Ÿ†•๐Ÿ†™๐Ÿ†’๐Ÿ†“๐Ÿˆต๐Ÿˆณ๐Ÿˆฏ๐Ÿˆ๐ŸŽฆ๐Ÿ“ถ๐Ÿ†–๐Ÿˆด๐Ÿˆฒ๐Ÿ‰๐Ÿˆน๐Ÿˆบ๐Ÿˆถ๐Ÿˆš๐Ÿšป๐Ÿšน๐Ÿšบ๐Ÿšผ๐Ÿšพ๐Ÿšฐ๐Ÿšฎโ“‚๐Ÿˆ‚๐Ÿˆธ๐Ÿˆท๐Ÿšญโ™ฟ๐Ÿ…ฟ๐Ÿ›‚๐Ÿ›„๐Ÿ›…๐Ÿ›ƒ๐Ÿ‰‘ใŠ™ใŠ—๐Ÿ†‘๐Ÿ†˜๐Ÿ†”๐Ÿšซ๐Ÿ”ž๐Ÿ“ต๐Ÿšฏโ‡โœณโ›”๐Ÿšธ๐Ÿšท๐Ÿšณ๐ŸšฑโŽโœ…โœด๐Ÿ’Ÿ๐Ÿ†š๐Ÿ“ณ๐Ÿ“ด๐Ÿ…ฐ๐Ÿ…ฑ๐Ÿ†Ž๐Ÿ…พ๐Ÿ’ โžฟโ™ปโ™Žโ™โ™Œโ™‹โ™Šโ™‰โ™ˆโ™โ™โ™‘โ™’โ™“โ›Ž๐Ÿ”ฏ๐Ÿง๐Ÿ’น๐Ÿ’ฒ๐Ÿ’ฑยฉยฎโ„ข๐Ÿ”œ๐Ÿ”›๐Ÿ”™๐Ÿ”๐Ÿ”ใ€ฐใ€ฝโŒโญ•โ—โ“โ•โ”๐Ÿ”ƒ๐Ÿ•›๐Ÿ•ง๐Ÿ•๐Ÿ•œ๐Ÿ•‘๐Ÿ•๐Ÿ•’๐Ÿ•–๐Ÿ••๐Ÿ• ๐Ÿ•”๐Ÿ•Ÿ๐Ÿ•“๐Ÿ•ž๐Ÿ•—๐Ÿ•˜๐Ÿ•™๐Ÿ•š๐Ÿ•ก๐Ÿ•ข๐Ÿ•ฃ๐Ÿ•ค๐Ÿ•ฅ๐Ÿ•ฆโœ–โž•โž–โž—โœ”๐Ÿ’ฏ๐Ÿ’ฎโ™ฆโ™ฃโ™ฅโ™ โ˜‘๐Ÿ”˜๐Ÿ”—โžฐ๐Ÿ”ฑ๐Ÿ”ฒโ—ผโ—ปโ—พโ—ฝโ–ชโ–ซ๐Ÿ”บ๐Ÿ”ป๐Ÿ”ต๐Ÿ”ดโšชโšซโฌ›โฌœ๐Ÿ”ถ๐Ÿ”ท๐Ÿ”ธ๐Ÿ”น

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: