Overcomplicate

     My post today was inspired by this image on Pinterest:

      I think we're all instigators and victims of an overcomplicated life. I suppose this has been on my mind most lately as it relates dating, but the basic principle can be applied to most relationships.  We seem to think something means more if we don't ask for it, if we don't start the ball rolling. Yes, okay, in some aspects. Surprises and gifts are wonderful and they show thought and care. And sometimes the other person needs to make the first move.  But when I see girls trying to suggest something to their boyfriend and then get all pouty because he didn't pick up the hint, I don't think that's fair to the guy.  In general, boys and girls don't always speak the same language. In fact, every person has his or her own language because each and every one of us is a unique individual who only sees the world from one, personalized point of view.  
     Would it not be better to be lovingly up front and honest? I think it would change our relationships for the better.  When you need a hug, ask for it.  When you miss somebody, tell them. Of course, this is in general and as with everything there are exceptions to this, there is a balance. If you've tried to talk to somebody 10 times and they aren't responding, you may want to take a break and not nag them.  But that's not my point.  Bottom line is: don't overcomplicate. 

There's something in my shoe

     The other morning, I slid my foot into my sneaker and scraped over a small stone.  Habitually, I froze up and almost pulled my foot out of my shoe.  There's something in my shoe, there's Something in my shoe, there's SOMETHING in my shoe! No, it's just a rock.  But I have a very good reason for this instinctual reaction.
     A year and a half ago, getting ready for school. 5:45 am, dark, I'm half asleep, and I'm pulling on my uniform.  I pull my scuffed-up, thick-soled, black dress shoes out from under my dresser, pull the left one on. *Yawn.*  I lace it up, ensuring the strings are flat, not twisted.  Next shoe, now.  It's like the hokey-pokey.  I put my toe in, I PULL MY TOE OUT!  There's something pokey in my shoe!  I'm awake!  I'm pretty sure I screamed - you can ask my sister if you really need to know.  I ever so slowly grab one of the laces and tip the shoe sideways; out comes this:

     This is a parktown prawn.  They are ugly, very pokey, squirt ink, and impossible to kill.  I've been told it takes several phone books to stun them.  Of course, my mom doesn't like killing things.  I'm thankful she let us kill the mosquitoes.  Spiders, wasps, parktown prawns, they go outside.     Meaning someone has to pick them up and carry them there, and, when it's my shoe, that someone is me. Eurgh! 
     For the remainder of my time in Africa, I never failed to check my shoes before putting them on. And I still have the THERE'S SOMETHING IN MY SHOE instinct. 
     All this to say, be thankful you don't find parktown prawns in your shoes. 

I was freaking out too much to ever take a picture of one of these, so the image is from http://www.outdoorphoto.co.za/gallery/showphoto.php?photo=264444