Honesty.

Do not mistake this post for anything other than what it is. It is a post of pure honest feelings right now. I'm not looking for someone to fix me. I'm not fishing for anything, I don't want compliments, or encouragement, or anything of the sort. I just want to express something. Something of the moment. I know the feeling in its entirety wont last, but this isn't a new feelings, and I know it will never go away...

I'm not sure which defined emotion to label it just yet, but it sits somewhere between frustration and failure, in its simplest forms. With a little twinge of disappointment.

Its funny, cause I have exactly what I wanted, and I foresaw the possibility of actually getting it, but I neglected to properly prepare for it, and am now paying the price of my lack of forethought.

I am coaching rugby at Chinook High. Which is awesome. And I love it, however, there are moments of frustration. Now, i've coached a few years, and there are the usual frustrations- none of which were ever anything to think twice about, but these frustrations are 10x what those were because I look, and I see how it could be better... I know its our first year, and we are still working out the kinks... but ugh!

Firstly, its weird not being in complete control all the time. Everything I do or think I run by Missy. Its also weird coaching with people you've never played with/met until two weeks ago. Its good. Don't get me wrong, its nice to have different perspectives/drills/experience, it will make our team more well rounded. Still, I have to check everything I do, and explain drills to them first and visa versa and we have different names for A LOT of things... And I don't want to change.

Secondly, as of right now- time management sucks. SO much of our practice is being wasted, and we never get through what we plan for a day. It bothers me because I'm in love with efficiency. This, I talked to Missy about and we are going to fix-ish. Also, it bothers me that most of the time, we plan practice right before practice starts. Would it kill us to sit down and discuss a few days in advance? There are meetings, and classes, and marking, and everything, and I don't like that the 3 of us coaching have not had anytime to discuss how to run things...

Thirdly, there are 3 of us. For JV and SV. Its really hard coaching two teams at the same time, and I feel like the JVs are learning at a phenomenal rate, but they are still holding the seniors back... Its been 4.5 weeks of practices, and I think today I got everyone's names figured out... Maybe.

Lastly, and probably most importantly- Last year I took a little hiatus from rugby. And now that im back into it, I feel like i've lost something. Like im not as good of a coach. Also, im probably in the worst shape of my life.

Its really disheartening cause these girls are great, and I feel like they need more attention, and I can't do that when i'm trying to look after 40 girls. Not to mention the amount of injuries we have thus far. So many girls with shin splints, and girls who get sick, a lot... I don't remember having so many invalids when I played...

All I really want is an hour with Kendra and Missy. Just to work things out. I was hoping to get it on Friday, but Kendra can't make it.

I tried to teach scrums to girls with little to no experience in about 25 minutes. Which would've been adequate, if I wasn't trying to teach 20 girls at the same time...Frustration. But not with them. With myself. It seems like a thing that old me could've done. And I failed. So now im just a frustrated failure.

I Love Your Crack.

There was a man, who everyday walked to a stream to get water, he carried two water pots, one a perfect pot, the other one with a crack in it. Story sound familiar?

I lured you in with a funny blog title, you thought you were getting entertainment, but this is just going to be sentiment, and now you have to read this...

The story of the pot goes like this- the cracked pot felt bad for having a crack and leaking half its water out while being carried back to the house, and the pot apologizes for this, and the man tells the pot- I knew of your crack and planted flowers on your side of the path, and every day I carry you up from the stream, the water you leak goes to the flowers and makes my walk beautiful...

We had our wards RS retreat today, and it was great. It was about self esteem and the such. It was really good. We were talking about the influence that we have on other people, either for good or for bad. And a girl there shared a personal story about how she really struggles with self esteem, and I thought this was crazy cause she is totally a fox... A while back around when I first met her, I remember seeing her in church one day and thinking, "She is really pretty, I should go tell her she looks really good." But I dismissed the thought cause I'd figured she was told that on a pretty consistent basis, and she'd have to be an idiot not to know she was hot stuff... I kind of regret that moment now that I know, cause she probably needed to hear it then.

SO, this got me thinking- I am usually pretty free with compliments, but sometimes I hold back, and its funny, its the things left unsaid that I never forget. And I know the moment has passed, and if said now, would require back story and explanation and probably a little awkwardness... I mean, it does happen- I go up to someone and say 'Hey, remember 2 years ago, at that thing, I meant to tell you that you were awesome.' People sometimes take it the wrong way, or whatever...

Anyway, I have resolved to change this! Starting now. I won't hold back any compliments, cause I don't care if it makes me sound creepy! Also, starting now, I'm going to post things that i've been meaning to say to people. I know its not as good as actually saying them, but if I get it out here, maybe they will stop haunting me. I'm going try to do this on a monthly basis, cause Lord knows- So much is left unsaid... I'm going to call these posts "Left Unsaid, Said Right" Just so you know they are coming... I actually might make a whole new blog devoted to this, im not sure yet.

Dance party and Trolls Fest.

Last weekend I had a dance party at my house. Its been almost a year since ive thrown a shin-dig at my place. It was about time. Also, I had a little encouragement from my married friends. They wanted to party, but feared that no one would come to a married persons' party. They were probably right.

I talked to my neighbors before hand, asked them to call me before they called the cops. Totally worked! It made me a little sad though, cause really- A party is not a party unless the cops show up... It was a huge success. SO many people came, i'm sure at one point in time there were 120 people in my house. My living room was rank though... see, I don't have any windows in my living room... so it got nasty sauna-sweaty in there. Ugh. Somebody rigged the sprayer-thing on the sink, so I watched a bunch of people get soaked. Some people thought it was funny... some people didn't take it so well. Nevertheless- Awesome!!
I say it was a success, not because I had a whole bunch of people there, but because it ended when I wanted it to end, nothing was broken or stolen, AND ...people cleaned up before they left... BLEW MY MIND

Dan came to the party, reminded me that Trolls Fest was this weekend. And for those of you that are unaware- Trolls fest is a drunken brawl of a rugby tournament. Complete with naked guys in a hot tub, sombreros and fights.

Saturday morning rolls around and I decided to go watch Dan play a few games. I brought my rugby stuff just in case I wanted to jump in on a game. I got there and a bunch of us were standing around talking, Dan was trying to get Cougle some shorts, cause he forgot his. He was too drunk to drive home and get them... at 11 am...

I don't really know what I was thinking, but I offered mine. I get them for him, and minutes later regret my decision when I find out he is going commando in them... I was pretty sure i would catch some kind of STD from them... so needless to say there was no way I was going to be playing rugby... I contemplated actually burning them when he gave them back to me... 2 games later...

Cartch

Formerly I had titled this blog "Rugby Reunion" but I started writting it and it became more about him than anything else. Meet Richard Cartier- Aka "Cartch"
He is one of the greatest men of all time. I want my children to marry his children. Cartch was my rugby coach for grade 11 & 12. Its funny to say that cause it seemed like so much longer. He moved to Lethbridge the beginning of my grade 10 year, and was our seminary teacher. At first I didn't want anything to do with him, cause we had our seminary teachers, and he came from out east and had a funny accent. I was separated from my friends and put into his class with a bunch of people I didn't know... Change sucks. I quickly changed my mind. He was/is a fantastic teacher. I remember still lessons he taught, and it wasn't just the lessons he taught verbally, it was in his nature. When he didn't even mean to teach. A lot of people said that he was a totally different guy when he was on a field. Sure, his language changed a little, as did his manner, but at the same time, not really. He was still himself. He never did or said anything that contradicted his character. Same guy, different situation. I remember one time, we were in Edmonton and our Rugby bus drove by the Temple and some of the girls started asking questions about the church and it was amazing the way he spoke about it... The church guy and the rugby guy, same guy.

We lovingly named him 'The Push-up Nazi'... And he made us do, what we've come to refer to as 'Cartier-Push-ups'. Explanation- The regular push-up has two levels, which when done in sequence is equal to one push-up AKA- up-down=one. The Cartier push-up has three levels. Along with up and down, there was 'half', and it was up to him when one push up was complete, AKA- up-half-up-half-down-hold it down- hold it- half-up-down-half .......- up-down-up-half-up-down-up=one... This, for those of you unaware, is the definition of brutal. When he said 10 push-ups, it could take 10 seconds, or 10 minutes...

Well, two years of playing for the guy just wasn't enough, so I stuck around and eventually ended up coaching his JV team. A few more years passed, and after the 2007 season he was transferred to Calgary to teach seminary. Apparently the Lord thought someone there needed some H-core help...

ANYWAY, Cartch decided to come down and have a lil reunion with anyone who was still/happened to be in Lethbridge. It was great seeing some of the old girls, and catching up. Being there made me jones for some LCI rugby... We got on the topic of push-ups. We went around talking about how many we could do in a minute. I figured I could get about 20 in. Thats reasonable right? Then this happened...


Cleared a space on the floor of Boston Pizza and had a push-up show down. Cartch is a machine. I think the total count was Cartier-40, Patzer-30. Which is totally respectable. I was impressed. The best part was the fact that there were about 9 cops having some dinner there and they thought this was hilarious.

PS. 12. I went home cause I really wasn't sure how many I could do in a minute, the answer is 12. I need to hit the gym...

Pre-Pi Day Pie Day.

Sunday. March 13. I'm fully aware some of you out there don't get it. I've tried explaining it to some of you and you just stare at me blankly, or with confused and/or judgmental faces. I know i'm a geek. Get over it. I will explain this one last time, please dont make that face...

In mathematics pi=3.14159265358979323846264338327950288419716939937... OR just plain ol 3.14, cause any more digits deals with crap too small to make any difference to anything real. Pi=3.14=3/14=March(3rd month) 14th(day). Simple. And as a clever play on words... Pi Day= PIE Day. But seeing as how actual pi is on a Monday, Sunday night had to suffice.

ANYWAY, Kara and I decided we would like to take part in the festivities. We didn't have the time, nor the patience for pie, so we were going to be clever- because it was faux-pi day, we were going to bring a faux-pie. Aka, A cake shaped like a pie in a pie dish. Brilliance. We mixed up the recipie a little bit, make it a lil thicker, gave it a little banana and hot chocolate... It was going to be good. We popped it in the oven, 'bout half hour later, we have cake. Pie. Pake?

As a precursor to this moment in time- Jocelyn our roommate is an avid baker. And she LOVES her baking things. Once upon a time she left a knife out and it was broken through the klutziness of another roommate... a tiny part of her died when she found it. On the verge of tears I tried to comfort her, but could only comfort so much while she clutched a broken knife in her hand... Broken or not, it was still a knife, and she, I could tell, was not in her right mind... She couldve stabbed something...Anyway, we borrow a bowl to mix and something else, but she gave a- this is your responsibility now, take good care of my things speech.

Kara takes it out of the oven, and places it on the stove. Seconds later...



There is this horrible shattering noise... My face drops. Kara turns to me. The first thing out of her mouth- "Its not Jocelyn's pan" Whew! Still... it was only in there at 375 degrees... and it was placed on the stove, which was warm from the stove...

We try to salvage it.




Then Kara picks a tiny piece of glass out of the pile...

I can see it now... "Oh what kind of pie did you bring?" ... "Banana Cream" ..."You?"
"Chocolate-Banana GLASS!"

I can't feed people a pie with possible shards of glass in it! We scraped it. It wasn't very good anyway... Tasted kind of bloody...

Phone Books

SO, I ran into Kels today, we decided to hang out. We sat around talked, watched a video... Ripped up some phone books. ...No big deal.

I'm kind of.... something...

So, some of you know, some of you don't, and I feel like we should all be on the same page..

About a month ago, I started becoming concerned with Dallas' church-going habits. I've done everything in my power to help him go on his mission, and I felt the need to encourage church attendance. One Sunday I ran into Neal, and asked him if Dallas was at church, he said no, so I called Dallas, he didn't answer, and I left him a text telling him to go to church.

Next Sunday rolls around and I happen to run into Neal again and I ask if he's seen Dallas. Neal said Dallas was at home sleeping... so I called him....several times. And I texted him...several times. And then I did a drive by his house honking my horn, and calling/ texting.

Basically for a few moments...I was...a ...psycho stalker.

He didn't wake up.... but then he texts me at 3:01pm...one minute after sacrament ends.
Forgive my doubt... but you DID. NOT. JUST wake up...

I understand you worked the night shift, I understand you go home at 8 am and you are tired. But I also understand that you could've gotten 5 hours of sleep in and then went to church...

I told him it was friends off. Apparently he doesn't know what that means. And I didn't really hold him to that...

Next Saturday rolls around and I find myself at his house partying with his roommates, and I run into Dallas, and I'm like - hey Dallas... you gonna make it to church tomorrow. He says that he has to work the night shift so he'll be really tired, but he would make it.

It's 1:30. His sacrament meeting starts in 20 minutes. I call him... no answer. I text him... nothing. I call Neal. Dallas is still sleeping. I lose it.

I drive over to their house, bust in there, march up to his bedroom door, bang on it as hard as the integrity of the door would allow and I yelled at him to get his lazy butt out of bed. I pause to listen and I hear a tired groan from inside... I start banging on the door again and yelling stuff... a few minutes pass and the only responses I get are mumbled words and groans. He was mostly awake... I got fed up with yelling through his bedroom door, so I said 'Fine. Bye Dallas.' And left.

As im writing this, I am becoming more and more aware of how psychotic I sound... And I thought about not telling you, but lets face it, I am Me, this is what happened, so why not share?

It ticked me off that he couldn't even drag himself out of bed to open his door to have a real conversation with me. It ticked me off that he said he was going to church, and didn't, twice. It ticks me off that he wants to go on a mission and is doing next to nothing to get there.

SO. I'm just done with him acting like he is 12.

I decided not to text him all day. And that day turned into two, which turned into three, and then it was a week...

I ran into his sister Brittany, she apologized on his behalf. And tried to explain. It was a nice gesture of my former-future-sister-in-law... I still want Dallas to grow up, grow a pair and DO something.

Then all of a sudden it was a week and a half. Nothing. He hadn't tried to call me, no texts... Nothing. Wednesday, he decides to text me... "Hey" ...Thats it. Thats all he texts me, a week and a half and the only thing he can say is "Hey" GAH! I hate stupid boys. I was just walking into institute so I texted him back- 'Hey, i'm just walking into institute, class is done at 9:30.' ...Nothing.. Then I texted him again at about 11:30..'And now im going to bed...'

Its currently 11:37 on Friday...and i've got nothing.

So, I've given him ample time to man-up. And I was thinking. I have three options...

1- Be kind, compassionate and understanding. Let him know that im here for him when he wants to talk about it, and we are still friends and I want him to be happy.

2- Hunt him down, corner him, say "Hey" and without another word, turn and leave and not talk to him again for a while

3- Stalk him, stake-out his car, and when he comes out to his car say this- "You have 5 minutes to convince me to ever talk to you again. Go." Then bust out a stop watch and actually time it.

Decisions....decisions...
I'm just so sick of men, and their crap. Say what you mean, be HONEST, make decisions. DO SOMETHING!!

Thoughts from a Toilet

Do you ever have the most stellar idea for the most brilliant blogpost on the face of the earth... and then forget it, because you thought to yourself 'This idea is too amazing to forget, I don't have to write it down because its so awesome that there is no way I will forget it'? Don't bother answering this, I know this happens to you. And even if it doesn't happen to you, just let me believe that it happens to you. Please?

Anyway, this happened to me today. I was sitting on the can, and I remember having this stroke of pure genius, which happens to be a normal occurrence on the can. And thats all I remember. I know some people like to take the New York Times crossword or Junior Sudoku into the the bathroom(depending on what they had eaten the night previous), and they would thus have some type of writing utensil handy, but as luck would have it, I had nothing of the sort in my bathroom. I remember thinking to myself that this inspired blogpost would possibly be one of my finest. I cant count on my stupid brain for anything! Gah! Next time ill promptly write it down...

Anyway, this got my thinking... I do some solid brain work in the bathroom, in fact, im pretty sure my best ideas have come a few hours after eating a big dinner, complete with piles of greasy meat... if you know what I mean ;)

Sorry.

I used to keep scriptures in my bathroom. I mean, if im getting devine inspiration about blogposts, just think what a difference a little spirit would make, and a little focus... Salvation, here I come! ...I think i'm going to start doing that again.

And I think im going to put a pad of paper and some pens in the bathroom, so that even if you don't have an epiphany, you can leave little sweet notes for whomever uses the facilities next. Ex. "Happy Poopin!" or "I hope you have an awesome bowel movement." OR- "Takin' the Cosby kids to the pool again eh? You should totally get them a chauffeur."

Maybe not. And on that note- I hope you spend a little more time in the bathroom. Its quiet, usually no one interrupts...nice.