No wonder Cinderella needed a godmother to get ready

"Alexandra you need to start getting ready you're not going to have enough time."

"Mom I have like over an hour and a half I'm fine..." *Twenty minutes later* "Oh my gosh mom what am I going to do I don't have enough time to get ready! I'm going to be late and my date is going to be waiting on me!!"

Four years of high school dances and my getting ready routine always stayed the same. You would've thought that I learned my lesson after my first dance, yet all the way up to my last one I still find myself scraping for time and using up every second I can spare. I don't know what it is that makes me keep this annoying habit. Maybe it's the rush I get when I check my phone and see my time running out, the way my mom and I run around like chickens with their heads cut off, or just the plain fact that I should know better by now, but still can't seem to get it together.

My hair is still half wet when I start curling it, none of my curls will stay (partially because of it still being wet), so I have to curl it two to three more times, burning my fingers by accident by touching the curling iron, messing up my nail polish, or running late to the hair appointment I had, that's probably going to take an hour or so. You name it, something is always going wrong. This year I experienced a new one though, it was along the lines of being ready, but putting on my dress to find out I sent it for a week to get alterations and not all of them were complete, so my mom is stabbing me trying to pin it with the safety pins she has on hand...oh the joys of getting ready.

You know guys have it easy. All they do is jump in the shower, comb their hair, put on their clothes, throw on some cologne, and they're good to go. While I'm over here having a mental break down and panic attack trying to get all dolled up.

Ok maybe I'm exaggerating a little, and sure I complain about it, but all the stress I face while getting ready is forgotten and worth it when I see the look on my parents face and my date's as I walk down my stairs finally ready.

As I finished getting ready for my last high school dance I looked back and took in the bitter sweet moment. I may have waited until the last minute a few too many times, but I'm going to miss all those jam packed moments. And the next time I have to get ready for a dance.....I'm probably still going to be running late and around like crazy. It's too late to quit now! 

"Thank you" two words I don't say enough

"Mom can I have this, Dad can I do that," I'm constantly asking my parents for things. Whether it be asking them to buy me something, take me somewhere, or asking them if I can do anything for that matter; there is always something I seem to need. However, no matter what it is they find a way to come through for me. 

There are numerous tasks that they do; whether it be big or quite minuscule, they always try their hardest to get it done. 

They take off work to come to my games, they haul me around to rodeos, pay my entree fees, and even risk the chance of getting home later from a rodeo just so I can see my boyfriend a little longer. If it's important to me, it's important to them. At times they make their life harder so mine can be easier. 

I have come to the realization that at moments I ask way to much of them. I've also realized that because they have continually given me all they can, I hit a point where I began to expect them to and not be as grateful as I should be. 

I'm ashamed that I've allowed myself to act that way. I have extraordinary parents. Most people would not do half the things for their children that my parents do for me. I am truly thankful for them and all they do. Not only am I lucky, but I'm blessed with these two wonderful people. 

I'm sorry mom and dad that I don't say this enough, but thank you for all that you! I love you guys!!

Five minute conversation

Five minutes doesn't seem like a lot of time. If you were asked to do something in only five minutes or less it would seem almost impossible to complete. However, when it comes to having a conversation, depending on who they are talking to, most people would say that five minutes can linger on. A prime example would be talking to someone you just met; they don't know and you don't know them. It becomes extremely difficult to try and find ways to not let the conversation die out and keep it interesting. I personally dislike these types of conversations. Numerous times I've found them to be quiet awkward...it is however, safe to say that I've had a change of heart. 

This weekend my family and I hooked up the truck to our trailer, loaded the horses, loaded our bags, packed into the truck, and headed off to my High School Rodeo in Casa Grande. As we were on our way my parents decided to stop  and eat at the Wendy's in Payson. I was slightly annoyed. I wanted to hurry and get to Casa Grande and saw no real point in stopping. 

When we pulled into the Wendy's parking lot my dad and I went inside to order our food, and my mom stayed outside walking my dog around. As soon as I ordered I knew I didn't want to stand there the whole time and wait for our food to come out, so I went outside to release my mom from her dog watching duties. I took the leash and paced back and forth with him as he curiously smelt every rock, plant, or wrapper that he possibly could. 

As we patrolled the parking lot, out of the corner of my eye, I could see a man beginning to approach me. He was an older man with deep features, and had white hair which crept out from underneath the hat he was wearing. 

"Is your dog friendly?" Were the first words out of his mouth. 

I assured him that he was and he immediately  began to pet him. That's when the small talk began. The typical first time meeting someone questions were asked like, "Where are you from?" Or "What brings you here." I filled him in on my plans for the weekend and he mentioned to me how he lived there with his wife. It grew silent for second and I was sure that our conversation had come to an end and he would bid goodbye. My thoughts were then cut off when he began to talk once more. 

"You know I used to be a cop down in Phoenix." I wasn't too sure where this was going, but I was considerably interested and lent him my ear as he continued on.  

"I loved it a lot...well until I got shot in the head. That's why this eye won't open." He made a jester to his left eye which was shut. I hadn't noticed it much before, but now I was in awe. "What happened?!" I asked him. 

"I was making an arrest on a driver and I thought things were going smoothly until the passenger of the car decide to pull a gun out and shoot. I woke up in the hospital with no recollection of what had happened." 

Just as he finished my parents were already waiting at the truck and motioning to me know that it was time to go. 

I thanked him for talking with me, wished him a good day, and started back to my truck. As I walked back I thought to myself that I wish I could've stayed and talked more to the man. In the five minutes of talking that we did he was able to change my mood and out look on the day. I was grateful that he felt the need to share his story with me.  I was instantly glad we stopped. If we wouldn't have stopped I wouldn't of been able to have that wonderful five minute conversation.