Five Secrets

I don't know what it's like for all of you, but I'm pretty sure that it's a universal fact:  If you have a secret, you have to let it out somehow.  Write it in a journal, tell your best friend, whisper it to the stuffed tiger on your bed...just set it free.  It feels better than keeping it all pent up, right?  So I'm blogging mine, because I can.

Secret #1:  I wish my parents would get back together.

I know this is improbable.  I understand that circumstances made them grow apart, and that they couldn't keep up the charade anymore.  I realize that they have both moved on and found other people to share their lives with.  But all the logic and reason in the world can't silence the little girl inside of me that wants her fractured family to be whole again.  I hang onto this tiny glimmer of hope that someday, somehow, they will look deep into their hearts and realize that they still love each other; that they just needed some time to gain perspective and grow as individuals, and now it is time to put this silly "divorce" behind them.  I want go "home" for Christmas and Thanksgiving...to the house I knew growing up and the family I knew growing up.  I want to say things like, "My parents are coming to see me this weekend," or "My parents put in a hot tub."  And don't get me wrong - both my step-dad and my step-mom are great people.  I'm glad to know them and have them around, but if I had to, I would choose the nuclear family.  And as inconceivable and childish as it is, I will always keep waiting for the day...

Secret #2:  I cheat when I make Thanksgiving dinner.

Oh, yeah.  Those who have been fortunate enough to eat my Thanksgiving dinners have unanimously claimed it was the best they've ever had.  While that does give me a sense of pride and satisfaction, I also feel incredibly guilty.  Why?  Because I think about my grandmother, my mother-in-law, the thousands of women bent over in the frozen food section duking it out for the biggest bird, and how they spend hours thawing, cleaning, stuffing, basting, and dressing their main course.  And me?  I buy the 12-pound Jennie-O Turkey-in-a-Bag.  It's delicious.  It's a real turkey, just like the other ones.  Oh, except that it is already cleaned, seasoned to perfection, and comes in convenient bag that goes directly from the freezer to the oven.  And when it comes out, it doesn't even need carved because the meat is so tender and juicy that it just falls off the bone.  It's delicious and practically impossible to screw up.  Then there's all the other accouterment...I mean, why do I feel like I'm cheating because I love Stove Top Stuffing?  Seriously.  I know that a lot of people spend hours on their "secret family stuffing recipes" and whatnot, but why so fancy?  Who wants apples in their stuffing?  Not me.  Stove Top is mouth-watering.  If stuffing wasn't so bad for you, I would eat it with regular dinners all the time.  But because all I do is pour a dehydrated packet of deliciousness into some boiling soup broth for 5 minutes, I feel like a cheat.  Same goes for potatoes.  I have never been a fan of gravy, and regular mashed potatoes almost require it.  Know what I like?  Betty Crocker Garlic Mashed Potatoes.  From a box.  Boil some milk, water, and butter, stir in contents of package, and voila!  Takes five minutes and tastes amazing.  And while that's going on, the Hawaiian Sweet Rolls are heating in the oven.  If the turkey didn't take so long to cook, I could whip up a Thanksgiving feast in 10 minutes flat.  To give myself a little credit, I do prepare a Jell-O salad that takes some effort and time (Jell-O has to set, you know), and I always make an awesome Thanksgiving dessert from scratch, but the main courses on my table are a sham.  A succulent and delightful sham, but a sham nonetheless.  And so, weary women of the kitchen, I apologize.  My name is Lindsey, and I am a Thanksgiving cheater.  But if my meal is equally delectable, if not more so, than yours and takes a fraction of the effort, why not??

Secret #3:  I use big words, even when I know I am operating above someone's vocabulary level.

It's a sickness.  A weird one, at that.  I love vocabulary.  I love learning new words.  I used to read the dictionary in junior high.  My dad tells stories about my crazy huge vocabulary when I was like five years old.  The more words you know, the better off you are: you always have a word for what you're trying to say.  If a person learns Spanish, their teachers will invariably tell them, "If you don't use it, you'll lose it."  Same goes for an English vocabulary, right?  So I try to throw the big ones in once in a while, and then it accidentally becomes automatic.  Then for some reason, even if I know that the person I'm talking to isn't going to understand the word, I use it anyway!  I mean, there's this speed-of-light thought process that goes through my mind first: "Should I use a synonym here?  Something a little more common?  His vocabulary isn't as big - I'm pretty sure he doesn't know what this word means and he'll be too proud to ask, so maybe he won't even get what I'm trying to say.  I should use a smaller word.  No!  I like this one better..."  It's kind of mean, in a way.  But I want my vocabulary to grow, not atrophy, so I continue.  I don't even have a remarkable vocabulary compared to a lot of people, but I'm proud of what I do know and am compelled to keep throwing those unnecessarily large words in with the regular ones.  Sorry.

Secret #4:  I threw away two of Levi's shirts that I hated and then told him I didn't know what happened to them.

I'm sorry!!!  But I really hated them.  They were from The Buckle, so I know they were expensive, but every time he wore them, I was filled with disgust and resentment.  They put me in a bad mood.  And I can't even explain why I really hated them so much.  They just evoked this evil response deep within my core.  One was light blue and it had a stupid cartoon rooster on it.  Underneath, it said "Party Animal."  It was SO dumb.  I freaking hated that shirt.  I'm typing faster and harder just thinking about the ridiculous thing.  Even my teeth are clenched.  Hated it.  The other one was brown, and in light blue letters it said, "Lie to me," but between 'Lie' and 'to', there was a little carrot (^) and above it said "next."  Again, seething at the thought of this inane concept of a shirt.  Hated the shirt.  So one day when he was gone, I just threw them away.  Buried them in the trash.  And they are out of my life forever.  ::deep, calming breath::  Ahh...

Secret #5:  I'm not as smart as I let other people think I am.

This should come as no great shock to the few of you who read this, because you can probably already think of a few examples where the facade failed on accident and the true depth of my ignorance glared through.  Let's start with "The Pentagon Incident" for a few laughs.  If you don't know the story, my brother, his friend Mark, and I were playing Outburst.  The category was "Things You Would Visit In/Near Washington D.C." or something like that.  When it was all over and the missing answers included "the Pentagon", I was baffled.  Why?  Because I thought the Pentagon was in Utah.  Here's where it gets good though.  I thought it was in Utah because I thought it was near Area 51.  And Area 51 is actually in Nevada.  So I really screwed that one up.  But it cleared up my 9-11 confusion, because I couldn't see how a plane could make it over the Atlantic Ocean and halfway across the U.S. to the Pentagon in Utah before it was shot out of the sky.  Mystery solved.  Want another example?  I was at Home Depot a few days ago getting some things for Levi.  I couldn't find the spray paint.  I looked at all the signs and couldn't figure out what section it would be in so to save time, I thought I'd just ask.  Turns out spray paint is in the paint section.  Who would've thought?  Apparently, not this genius.  Do you need a third example?  My brother and I were recording some music.  He left his equipment with me so I could finish some things on my own to save time.  I wasn't really familiar with the recording stuff, but his instructions were simple: plug the microphone cord in, make sure the headphones are plugged in, etc.  So I do all that, but absolutely no sound is registering and I try all the most complex solutions to make it work.  I was so frustrated.  But after almost a half hour of frantic problem solving, I discovered that when you are "plugging in the mic," you should make sure that you are actually plugging in the mic cord and not plugging in a random loose cord that isn't connected to anything on the other end.  So I'm sorry to disappoint anyone who thought I was going to go far in this life, but I am not the brilliant braniac you once thought.  I am regular.  And now you know.