Ain't so bad.

Ain't ain't a word and you ain't supposed to say it.


I know I have said this before and I will say it again, in high school when my AP English teacher, Mrs. Warr, told us, "Once you know the rules of English and grammar you can break the rules of English and grammar."

Duly noted, Mrs. Warr. And I have been a walking truism of her statement ever since.

But today isn't about grammar, English or Mrs. Warr.

It is about physical therapy.

And guess what, folks? It ain't so bad.

Sure, it hurts. And sometimes makes me want to cry and die.

BUT!!! The place is decked out in Utah State paraphernalia!

And it is like a trip down memory lane every time I go. So, the tears are totally worth it.

PLUS!!! They have TVs everywhere. And guess what is on said TVs? Oh, ESPN!! Just yesterday when I went, there was even a track meet for me to watch while I was there. 

And during the NBA finals, not only did they show the games, but they had {and still do} a bracket of all the games on a huge white board. Is that not one of the best purposes of a whiteboard? To keep track of sporting events? I dare say, YES - IT IS.

So, yeah ... Physical therapy ain't so bad.

I might even miss the place when I am eventually done rehabing the horrid Mr. Hamstring.

After all, I don't have cable at home nor is my home saturated with Aggie decor ... BUT! Maybe it should be. Hmm ... definitely worth thinking about. As a house full of Aggie alum, I don't think my roommates would mind.

And for today ... that is all. :)


This blog.

I am not entirely sure why I joined the blogging world.

And by not entirely sure, I have no idea why.

I am not entirely sure why I maintain my existence in the blogging world.

And by not entirely sure, I do have an idea.

Blogging is a funny little world. You put something out there on the world wide web and there it is - for the entire world to see.

Many blogs have a theme. 

I don't really think I have a theme. 

I am not a mommy, coupon, fashion, food, faith or a DIY blogger. I suppose the closest thing you could call me is a lifestyle blogger. If I even understand the concept of that type of blogger correctly. Someone who blogs about their life? But then where does style come in? Because I definitely don't have a style blog. I kinda have a nothing blog.

And somewhere in between the past five years of having this blog, I have made an unconscious, inadvertent rule for myself and this blog: BE.GENUINE.

It's kind of a rule I have in life in general. Be genuine to Mindy. Because there is no one else I would rather be.

Sure, sometimes I wish I had someone else's long, gorgeously thick hair or their hamstring. ;) But in all honesty, I like who I am. And to deter from that to satisfy anyone or anything else would be a deception far too grand for me to live with. And so genuine it is.

I think I have set such a resolute rule for myself because disingenuousness keels me in all forms. It is deception and any form of communication that is to deceive is a lie.

And so I true to myself I will be. And true to yourself you should be. Even if you don't think it is popular, even if you think it means people won't be your friend or accept you for who you are, or even if it means you don't have as many blog followers {yes, disingenuousness has crept into many a blog, I bet you know those blogs, I bet you know if you have one of those blogs}.

I pride myself on what I write here is what I would say in person. And I would say it in person exactly. One of my favorite compliments I receive regarding this blog is from those who know in-person Mindy too, "When I read your blog, I feel like I can hear you saying those things!"

And so if nothing else today ... Be who you are. Be proud of who you are. And if no one likes it, they can go sit on a pin.

As for the rest of us, we will be having a jolly good time because we are being authentic to ourselves and our truth. 

It's Monday, people. Heaven help us all.


All the single ladies! All the single ladies!

Yesterday, we had very enlightening discussion about this "gem".

I used the word enlightening facetiously, just in case you didn't know. :)

While yesterday we discussed the "uplifting" quotes that actually are just demeaning others, today I am going to discuss why this thought should be offensive to you if you are single, or know anyone who is single.

The numero uno problemo I see with this is: it uses one's singleness to define them.

And I, for one, absolutely refuse to be defined by my singleness.

And so should you.

Is it a major component of my life?


But, by golly, if there is Heaven above {and there is!}, I will NEVER use that term to define me.

I have far too many amazing attributes to be defined one that is less awesome. ;) {P.S. Favorite new meme, "Awesome ends in 'me'. Coincidence? I think not."}

Secondly, my singleness is not what gives me strength. That is taking the credit away from where I believe true credit goes, to my Maker in that Heaven above that was previously mentioned, and, while minimally, to myself for picking up my boot straps and keeping on keeping on.

And your singleness is not what gives YOU strength either. Do not be foolish enough to believe that lie. Our trials are what show our true colors, but they are not what give us our strength. Because then it isn't even our strength, it's the trial's strength. And that is just flat our redonculous!

Thirdly, this is to all the people who know and love a single person ... They do  depend on you, just in different capacity than they would depend on someone they were married to.

My support system my entire life has been uh-maz-ing. And I would be an ingrate to imply I haven't depended on them - ON YOU.

So, if you see this beast of an "uplifting" quote floating around in social media, see it for its lies and deception. And then, if you have heat vision, BURN IT LIKE SUPERMAN, baby! But don't, because you will destroy your computer screen. Buuuut, I guess if you are an alien from another planet who can shoot fire out of your eyes, you have much bigger problems than destroyed computer screens.

And, with that ... I think I am officially off my tirade. And here you thought you were going to get a fun, perky Facebook Finds Friday. Oops. :) I am aiming for that next week though. :)



Here an offensive statement. There and offensive statement. Everywhere an offensive statement.


I did it again.

I played with your heart.

I offended someone.

And there you thought I was going all Britney Spears loco on you! :)

Let's clear something up this very moment. My intent is never to offend.


However, sometimes my intent is to ruffle some feathers.

So sue me. ;)

Sometimes in the process of ruffling feathers, I offend. Then I feel slightly bad and say to myself, "Mindy, your sassiness is going to be the death of you one of these days."

Or at least the death of several Facebook "friendships".  ;)

HOWEVER! This most recent offensiveship was not even to ruffle feathers. 

A friend had posted this little "gem" on Facebook.

Something about it just didn't sit with me right, so I pondered it for a moment and then left the comment, "Ohh, I don't know if I agree with it. Strong people are single and not so strong people are single. Strong people are married and not so strong people are married. And I do think single people depend on other people, just in a different capacity."

Enter absolute craziness.

Here I was, thinking I was just standing up for all those strong married people I know ...

Like the husband and wife who waited for six years to have a baby. I have an idea of the kind of doubt that could creep in, the possible feelings of inadequacy, the heart break of seeing others having their hearts desires, yet them lacking it.

Like the husband and wife who are still waiting for a child to enter the home, when the reality is, their walls may never be blessed with a child's cry.

Like the mother who lost her baby girl the day before Mother's Day.

Like the family who are struggling with their son who has an intellectual disability and a mood disorder. Their lives will never be "normal". A trip to the grocery store can be an event like most will never witness in their lives.

Like the family who unjustly got looked over for the husband's dream job to a candidate with significantly less experience.

Like the girl who moved to a foreign country to be with her husband, but in the process left everything and everyone she had ever known behind. 

But apparently, alluding to strength coming in many different forms, I was being ... OH-FENCE-IVE.

And you know what? I just don't care.

I get tired of "uplifting" quotes that come in the form of demeaning or belittling others or the challenges they face.

The fact is this: sometimes life is just hard. And who is to say my hard is more hard that anyone else's hard?

My brother is married, something I am not. But  his legs don't work and mine do. Is my life harder than his because I am not married? I would never in my lifetime or beyond it say that it is. Because I can stand up at this very minute. And even with a bum hamstring, I can walk. I can run, jump, frolic and dance {although this one is not likely}. I can get my own glass of water. And I can roll myself at night in my bed without assistance from someone else. And I have always been able to do those things. My brother cannot say the same.

So, no. 

Being not married does not make you stronger or your life harder. 

And I won't passively sit by while others' challenges are demeaned. 

And if that offends you.


That's all.


Actually, that is not all. Return tomorrow for more thoughts I have on this quote. That tirade will focus on how demeaning this is to single people and offensive to the people in their lives. 



My IT-band was/is getting better.

Despite the fact that last Tuesday in my company softball game I tore my hamstring.

Yup, that beauty of a muscle in the back of your upper leg. P.S. I tried to find a visual online. But after seeing this, this and this, I thought I would spare you. You are welcome.

But don't worry, while running from second to third base, when the tragic event happened, I was still able to hop home on one leg and score for the team. Some say such tragedy builds character, but clearly I already had it. ;)

I returned home after the event and that little bugger of a muscle decided to contract with every move {sans breathing} that I made for the next two hours. If that was a glimpse of labor - you can count me out. It actually only stopped having a tizzy fit after a high dosage of a muscle relaxer.

I called my general practitioner {read as my old bishop, because, hello, I hate doctors - why would I ever have a legit general practitioner?}. He said if I was still unable to put any weight on it in the morning that I should go see a specialist.

And guess what? I wasn't able to put any weight on it in the morning.

So, I hopped into the specialist's office on my bum IT-band. Imagine their surprise when I told them I wasn't there for the taped knee, rather the other leg which was far worse.

I actually got in with little waiting {shocking}. Maybe they felt badly for me because they watched me hop all the way from my car to the office {you would think an orthopedic specialist's office would have parking closer than 200 meters away ... you'd think}.

The doctor came in quickly. Mentioned the bruising and the swelling and said, "You need physical therapy today."

And to physical therapy he sent me.

You can see a bit of my pink kinesiology tape on my right knee.

On my left they provided me with an Easy Ready. It essentially is a blood pressure cuff for your entire leg {and considering my femurs as the same length of femurs of men who are six feet and five inches tall, we are talking a huge cuff!} that compresses the injury and sends ice cold water around your leg.

It felt super nice.

And, it didn't hurt that the entire physical therapy room was decked out in USU paraphernalia. It was a trip down memory lane. Essentially an air conditioned trip down memory lane.

Then they made me do stretches. And I wanted to die. They told me, "This is going to hurt." I kindly told them that stretches really hurt when I am not injured {hence: the reason I didn't stretch or warm up before playing softball Tuesday night}.

The doctor requested I stay home from work the rest of the week. I requested he reconsider his request. And he did. Office work only though.

As the week as progressed, so has my ability to walk. It is slow and steady, but I am able to walk now with my foot flat on the ground ... as long as I don't move too fast, bend it too much, extend it too much, or twist it at all. :) 

Stairs ... stairs and hills are another story.

I return for a follow-up appointment tomorrow.

I think it will go well.

That's all.


And you thought this was going to be about my dad. Pff. My dad would want this to be about my leg. I just know it.


Goodbye Angry Mr. Achilles. Hello irate IT-band.

I am not sure who did it or when. 

 Strike that. I do know when.

 It was two Thursdays ago.

The horrid day that someone ticked off my IT-band.

Strike that.

The horrid day that someone royally ticked off my IT-band.

Like I said, I don't know who it was, but tick it off they did! 

And the irate IT-band has been fuming mad ever since.

Now, I don't know if you know much about fuming mad IT-bands, but they hurt ... paper cut in the eyeball style.

And I am so over it.

1. I am not able to run. If I am not able to run ... stay clear. I am no one you want to be around when I cannot run at will.

2. It is messing with my company softball team {because, like, hello, I cannot run}.

At our first softball game things got desperate. And desperate times call for desperate measures.

Like using the snowman duct tape as athletic tape

Is now the appropriate time to tell you that the snowman duct tape was used to tape on numbers for the two players who did not have numbers on their shirts? Like I said, desperate times call for desperate measures. And we were certainly desperate in more way than one. :) 

As each passing day came and went without relief, I contacted my favorite athletic trainer {even though he wasn't the one who drained my toenail}.

He suggested I roll my IT-band out with ... a rolling pin.

Being the non-domestic fool that I am, I clearly didn't own a rolling pin.  Soooo, I stole borrowed mama's. 

And zoo-ee-mama! Does this hurt!!

I also invested in some kinesiology tape ... Which is straight from heaven, much like unto contacts and air conditioning. 

I think the IT-band is showing some improvement.

And it better be!

Because I have a softball game tonight.

And while I don't run every day {not even close}, I need to know that I could run any day I wanted. 

So, to you horrid, little irate IT-band: it's been real. But it hasn't been real fun. You better be packin' those bags soon or else ... you will have a standing date hourly - indefinitely with Mr. Rolling Pin. How do you like them apples?


To answer questions regarding the dot system ... Level I dating is you are just dating non-exclusively and since these people receive no dot, I am also assuming Level I dating also includes sitting home on your rump and not dating at all! Isn't that so fun to have the publicly advertised??? :) 

One word about the entire system: GOO.

But let's add some others for fun: intrusive, invasive, meddlesome, prying, nosy, tactless and all up in my grill! 

But I guess that's all that needs to be said about that. For now. ;)



Shenanigans are what occur at my ward sometimes {read as: church congregation}. 

I am okay with the shenanigans that occur {well, mostly okay}.

Today we are going to talk about one of those shenanigans that I find particularly quirky.

In most bishops' {read as: congregation leader, like a priest, etc.}offices in singles wards {congregation that only has single peeps, because we have a lot of them attending Utah State so they make them into their own congregations}, they have either photos of all the ward members, or at least their names written down on a large white board that covers the walls.

Bishops use this generally for two purposes. One of which is to help them learn the members names {as there can be up to 400 students in one ward!} or two keep track of which calling {church assignment} each ward member has. 

Not too long ago I was in my bishop's office. I saw the names all written on the board, with the individual's designated assignments next to them. And I couldn't help but notice that some people had dots next to their names ... Some people had blue dots and some people had red dots.

I immediately found my name ... and it had no dots.

I was quite perplexed at what those dots meant. So, I asked.

The bishop informed me that the dot system was to indicate which ward members were dating someone exclusively and which ward members were engaged.

Whoa. Enter shenanigan.

All up in our grill much?

As an unusually private person, I found this practice to be highly unusual ... and invasive

I didn't say much more regarding those dots or the system ... Until I was home and I realized a far superior system to be put in place.

That is when I texted my bishop and had the following conversation {pretend the first text includes the word /my/ in the appropriate location}. :)

And my bishop?

That man means business. 

Next time I visited him in his office, I was very pleased with what I saw.

And with that, I am super awesome. And all the people who enter my bishop's office who didn't know before, now know.

And I feel accomplished about that.

And that is all. And yes, I just started the last five sentences with the word /and/. And {now six} my English teachers always told me that I couldn't do that. 

I sure showed them ... minus Mrs. Warr, who once told me, "Once you know the rules, you can break them." And break them I do.

Paragraphs with one sentence.

Starting all the sentences with /and/. 

And all I got from this post was I am a super cool trend setter/rule breaker.

Now, that is really all. 



Okay, that might be lie.

I might not like skulls. 

But I did find a skull shirt I liked. 

And I liked it a lot.

The only problem was, I was not sure if skulls were work appropriate. And I don't like purchasing clothes that I cannot wear to work. It seems a little pointless and frivolous. 

Buuut, I really liked this skull shirt. So, I bought it. And figured out I would figure out the details of whether or not I could wear it to work after the fact. 

Cue the following text conversation with my boss.

Mindy: I have a ridiculous, yet serious, question to ask. I found the most adorable shirt. Buuut ... it has skulls on it {I realize that sounds like an oxymoron}. I am assuming skulls are out at work, even cute ones? :)

Boss: Sorry, but yes. Skulls are out at work.

Mindy: Yeah, they don't exactly instill confidence in parents for the care and well-being of their child, do they?

Boss: Yeah, I don't know what parents are thinking. Skulls are a symbol of who we are, right?

And thus we see, that my boss is funny. :)

And that skulls, even adorable are, are out at work.

Because they don't instill confidence in parents for the care and well-being of their children.

I  s'pose this shirt will turn into a breakfast at Kneader's kind of shirt {as photographed above} or a summertime BBQ shirt. Essentially, everything but a work shirt.

And with that, I like skulls. I really do. At least adorable ones. 

That's all.


Summertime Adventures | More Epic Failures

It's that time of year again.

Where I go hiking.

And have epic failures.

{You can read about last year's here and here}.

This year, it was going on a hike that was supposed to be two hours ... that ended up being six hours.

Don't blame me, though. It's what the map said.

That dirty little liar.

We decided to hike to Old Ephraim's Grave.  Old Ephraim was a bear that roamed the mountains here in good ol' Logan. He apparently liked to eat ALL the sheep and everything else he could get his dirty paws on. People from far and wide tried to put an end to his destruction for over a decade.

And when they finally did, they measured him to being almost 10 feet tall!

But all of that is beside the point.

The point is my six hour hike. Mm-k?

 By the time we reached this sign, we had already hiked three miles. Goody gum drops.

The hike wasn't too strenuous. Just long.

But beautiful.

It was difficult not to burst out into "The hills are alive ..." while twirling around. 

But I successfully constrained myself.

And we eventually got there. :)

I liked the idea of hiking to something and reaching a destination.

Given, a destination of food would have been more preferred. But I enjoyed the hike anyway. :)

I was utterly exhausted when I got home. And filthy. 

Fortunately, I consider the success of a hike by two things: 1. If I lived and 2. How dirty I get.

So, while an epic failure of time estimation, everything else was fantastic. 

I finished up Memorial Day with a BBQ in the backyard and loved it.

Oh, and an epic sunburn as well.

 Four extra hours in the sun than prepared for will do that to ya. 


P.S. I love my shirt. And I will have more to say about it later. :) 
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