We'll see

I had my interview for my major today, and it went something like this-
I picked out my outfit last night, deciding to go with my cute black dress, sweater, and fun green shoes that Haley gave me. They have to let me in if I have cute shoes. This morning I walked up to campus in regular clothes, arrived at the HFAC, changed into my cute clothes and joined the line of people also waiting to be interviewed. Everyone was remarkably nervous and conversational, myself included. When the girl next to me said she thought she was going to wet herself she was so nervous I advised her to run away, much like Scar in Lion King. It's a very competitive major to get into. But she knew I was joking. One guy said he felt a little overdressed, but the girl next to him assured him that he looked good and said she liked his shoes. He in turn complimented her shoes and the conversation turned to the hypothetical "maybe we can win them over if we have nice shoes." Nobody commented on my amazing shoes, because they were obviously intimidated by them. I mean, they're fabulous shoes. They have to let me in with shoes like these.

The main cause for worry was that the interview is only 3 minutes long. Three minutes to make the best impression you'll ever need to make because this interview decides your future. I tried to do some reading while I waited, but it was impossible. People kept on turning the corner and coming down the hall where the interview room was, and we all had to look every time someone came along, because it might mean that they were coming for one of us. I eventually got called and when I stepped into the room I was kind of shocked to find that there were roughly a dozen people in there. A whole huge future-deciding committee. And the guy who did the ushering in and out got my last name wrong -somehow the first letter got changed to a P, but one of the ladies knew it was a typo.

Despite the fact that the interview was only 3 minutes long I managed to touch on a multitude of topics -I told them I was sock-puller # 2 in our family's static cling commercial, what I was doing when Princess Diana died, and about the time I cleaned puke out of a piano in the back room of BYUSA. All totally relevant to the topic at hand. I think it went well enough -they asked me questions like "was there a sock-puller #1?" and "how did you get the puke out of the piano?". I had them riveted I say, riveted! Or at least I mildly entertained them. Maybe I shouldn't have revealed how I got the puke out -it would have left them wanting more.

she's a lawn sweeper, 80's beeper, finder's keeper don't you mess around with her

Waiting at the bus stop one morning I saw a woman across the street sweeping her walk in her dressing gown, except after she'd swept the walk she proceeded to sweep the lawn as well. And then she kept bending over and picking stuff up off her lawn -presumably leaves. Why would anyone be up at 6:55 to sweep their lawn?

I saw her again last week, only this time it was lighter out and I saw that while she did indeed sweep her walk, behind her garage and out of sight she switched to a rake instead of a broom to tidy her lawn. So much for my sweeping theory. Her yard is meticulous, but I cannot understand why she does it. There's a distinct line where her yard ends and her neighbor's begins; her neighbor's yard is covered with leaves and there's a tree above it full of even more leaves waiting to fall. The crazy-early-leaf-picker-upper-woman's tree has no leaves on it. Did she get tired of waiting for the leaves to fall and use moon boots to strip them off the top of her tree?

I also looked down at the ditch next to where I wait for the bus and thought I saw a human finger, fairly pale but with a bloody stump and ridges where knuckles would be. Closer inspection revealed that it was a carrot.