Yes, it's true--I'm pregnant. I'm actually in my second trimester already, but I've been waiting to post it for the world to read until I told my family. And I didn't want to tell my family without seeing their faces. And I didn't want someone to be recording them when they got the news for me for a couple of reasons: 1)Someone pulling out a camera to record you is a little suspicious, don't you think? 2)I wanted my mom to know before I told anyone else in the family, so I couldn't have someone else recording it anyway!
But it was really exciting when I finally gave everyone the news. It wasn't quite what I was planning, but I think the actual happening was better than what I had anticipated, so I'm not arguing.
Molly found out what she's having in May (I won't spoil it; she has to be the one to blog to world about it) and she told my family last night after we arrived in Virginia. I didn't want to steal her thunder by saying "Yay for a boy/girl! And by-the-way, I'm pregnant too!" so I was going to tell them this morning.
But the conversation came around to how Molly and I were planning on eating a ton while we're here (and with my mom's cooking, who can blame us?) and we blamed Molly's eating on the fact that she's pregnant. Well, my mom turned to me, jokingly, and said "So, since you're planning on eating so much, does that mean you're pregnant too?"
"Yes." That was all I said. And the effect was priceless. Everyone just kind of stared at me with that really blank, dumb look you get when you really don't understand what's going on. My dad followed up with "What? Really?"
That's when Daniel chimed in with, "Yeah, she's actually due three weeks after Molly." Then the shock wore off and everyone was really excited. Somehow, in the midst of the hugging and "Oh my gosh"-es, word got out that it's a boy. (Oh yeah, it's a boy. We found out on Tuesday.) Then ultrasound pictures were produced and the hub-bub continued. All-in-all, it was amazing. I couldn't have asked for a better pregnancy anouncement.
And Molly was more mad at me for not telling her sooner than she was for "stealing her thunder,"which was what Daniel predicted. He's so smart. Oh well.
At church today my mom was hilarious. She went around and told everyone (with a HUGE grin) about how Molly's going to have a boy/girl, and how Emile surprised her with the news that she's pregnant too. It was wonderful. I loved it.
Now, if my suitcase would only get here...
Sunday, December 28, 2008
Thursday, December 11, 2008
Final thesis, finally done!
I never posted a huge thank you to everyone who took my survey for my final thesis, so I'll say it now. I couldn't have done it without your help!
I finished all of my data analysis and results discussion chapters on Monday, and yesterday I had the "opportunity" to present my findings. (I have to ask, though: is it really an opportunity if you're required to do something?) Everyone in the class set up their lovely tri-fold posters in one room--it felt so much like a high school science fair it wasn't even funny--and then the faculty and graduate students in my college came in and checked out our work. We were all graded by two faculty members and by at least one graduate student...And I was the lucky student that got to present my research and findings to the freaking DEAN of the College of Human Health and Sciences.
She was a very nice woman, but talk about an intimidating presentation! For the first time since I began the whole thesis process I felt like I was lacking something. But I still feel like I did fairly well, despite the fact that I was talking way too much with my hands and I was nervously shifting from foot to foot. I never stuttered or forgot what I wanted to say, though, so I think it went well.
When I spoke to my adviser (who, thankfully, was the other faculty member grading me) after the presentations, he said he was impressed with my study and was confident that the dean graded me well. Phew!
So now I'm done!
Okay, I still have two more presentations today, and then three days of finals next week, but other than that I'm done! I'm so close to the end. In less than a week, consider me an official Bachelor's degree attainer. It feels so good...
Thursday, December 4, 2008
Christmas time is here...
This year has been the hardest ever for me, as far as homesickness goes. I've broken down in tears more than once--a very strange occurrence for me, seeing as how I'm usually the stalwart sister. But I've broken down in tears about stupider things since I got married anyway. It's nice knowing I don't have to be the strong one anymore!
I'm sure the majority of the homesickness is caused by the fact that I know I won't be home for Christmas. I've never been away from my immediate family on Christmas before, and even though I'll see them two days later, the thought of not participating in all of our traditions is almost overwhelmingly sad.
It all starts with Christmas Eve morning. No one gets up particularly early, except for mom who usually can't stay in bed with all of the things on her to do list nagging at her. Eventually, though, the whole family is awake and either Molly or I turn on the Christmas music. We're talking something energetic to get everyone going, like Doc Severinson and the Tonight Show Orchestra. The fire is already going in the fireplace (that's all my family uses for heat in the winter, anyway) and the Christmas music brings the most wonderful feeling into the air. As soon as everyone has gotten in my mom's way at some point (which is really easy, as she spends a lot of the day in the kitchen) she finally asks us if we could do this, or that to help clean the house. I usually get to clean one of the upstairs bathrooms, while Lizzy gets the smallest bathroom downstairs (little stinker...) Then we set ourselves to vacuuming, sweeping, keeping the dog outside or the kids upstairs, emptying the dishwasher so there's room for that evening, etc.
Then, at about four o'clock, something transforms the house. The anticipation reaches a peak, and we have to turn on some mellower music to keep a sense of calm about the house. We can all put our presents under the tree now, but as soon as they're there they cannot be touched again until the next morning. The kinder are all scrambling around as much as they can to see who each present is going to, without touching them. Maggie comes running into the kitchen and says "The biggesht preshent ish for ME! Cam-er-on didn't get one big ash mine!" or Doodie will come right up beside me and say "Emile, that one behind the trunk is for you. I got it at the school store. But I won't tell you what it is. But don't forget about it, because it's behind the trunk, ok?"
Finally, my dad will come downstairs with one of his nicer plaid shirts tucked into his pleated khakis and brown loafers and gently remind the kinder that there are still things to be done, and not to worry about the presents for now.
Then, the dining-room table is set with all of G.G.'s china (which we've learned over the years has to be supplemented by other pieces of dishware...there just isn't enough for the whole family!) The food comes out of the oven and my dad dons an apron to proceed with carving. The potatoes and fruit salad are transferred to their serving bowsl. The little individual yorkshire puddings are carefully (and rather artfully) placed in the bread basket. Animal and Doodie fill G.G.'s beautiful crystal goblets with Martinelli's. The missionaries arrive, we've all changed into our sister's nicest khakis (heaven forbid we wear our own clothes!), and my dad asks someone to say a blessing.
Christmas is finally here, in all of its glorious splendor!
We line-up to serve ourselves in the kitchen (there's no room for all of the food on the table, what with such a huge crowd each Christmas) and then the procession heads into the dining room. A great confusion as to where everyone is sitting ensues, of course, and if you're not deeply involved in the seating it can be quite comical.
"Anna, that's Gramma's spot. You sit over here." "But I want to sit next to Molly." "Molly's here for a whole week, you can sit next to her some other time..."
"Liz, I already drank out of that glass, so it's my spot." "Well then trade me glasses, cus I want to sit on the end..."
"Doodie, you can't sit there. You're at the kinder table." "Again?!" (shuffling away with a pout until he sees that the kinder table has its very own bottle of Martinelli's.)
"Umm, Emile, can you move over here?" (Dad, gesturing that we shouldn't seat Elder So-and-so between two teenage girls.)
And so on until we're all finally settled. Dad asks someone to pass the gravy. Someone has already finished their first glass of sparkling cider and wants some more. I ask for the yorkshire pudding to be passed (a request I repeat a few more times throughout the meal...) Etc.
And when Molly and Grampa have both helped themselves to more fruit salad than anyone else combined...And I've devoured the last yorkshire pudding...and the candles have had to be extinguished because they've come dangerously close to dripping on the tablecloth...
Gramma starts the symphony. She dips her finger into her water, places it on the top of her goblet, and round and round her finger goes. It starts with the faintest pinging at first, which then grows louder and louder as we all join in. It takes Doodie a minute or two to figure out exactly how to do it--with Maggie schooling him as if she's an expert--but we finally have a full "symphony."
The food is gone from everyone's plates, but before we all get up someone reminds us--as if we need reminding--that mom used to be able to recite the whole "Night before Christmas" poem. Can she still do it?
Someone runs to get the book, just in case she needs a hint, and the recitation begins. She usually needs a little prompting at about the point where "dry leaves that before the wild hurrican fly," but beyond that she has everything under control. When she's done, a cheer rings out for her annual display, which signals the end of the dinner portion.
We all help to clear the table, and carefully move G.G.'s dishes into the kitchen sink. A little bit of tidying up takes place as leftovers are quickly put away and the main dishes are washed and stacked next to the sink while others are placed in the dishwasher.
Finally, its time for grab-bag. The rules are explained for the elders' sakes ("Oh, it's kind of like white elephants!" "No. It's better.") and the game ensues.
Anywhere from one to two hours later, after everyone has had a chance at the chocolate orange or the cordial cherries and the hot item of the year (which has ranged from a Backstreet Boys CD or a Duncan yo-yo to some Pampered Chef cooking utensils or Harry Potter Legos) has been stolen countless times, the game ends and everyone trades their treasures.
To bring the mood down a bit from a raucous, rambunctious state my dad will calmly remind us that "as fun as the grab-bag is, and as big as the presents are under the tree" (Maggie smiles greedily) there is a more important meaning of Christmas. We all settle down, then, as Dad reads the Christmas story from the Book of Luke.
The spirit is strong and undeniable at that point. We silently sit and enjoy the warmth that envelopes us for a few moments before Dad asks us to kneel for family prayer. Gramma and Grampa mention something about being old, but because its Christmas they'll still kneel. Then, someone offers a prayer that may seem nothing special to anyone else, but because its Christmas it echoes in our hearts and stays with us for what seems like forever. Then, we all say goodnight to the missionaries as they leave.
"Hey, has anyone checked Norad lately?" Norad, the Santa Tracker, is hastily pulled up on the computer and we all learn that *gasp* he's in North America! We all need to get to bed immediately so that he doesn't skip our house! After quick changes into pajamas, and claiming spots on Lizzy's bedroom floor (Al of the kids sleep in the same room on Christmas Eve, and Lizzy just happens to have to the biggest room) we all settle down for at least an hour of giggling and the occasional "Guys, go to sleep!"
Then, just as we're all getting sleepy and are ready to stop talking, we hear it: Bells. Outside the window. It's Santa! The reindeer bells (which sound remarkably similar to camel bells...) ring out once more and Maggie jumps up, "Guysh! I'm sherioush! We all need to go to shleep!" Finally, we all know Santa is quite near and that we all must go to sleep, otherwise he'll skip our house.
The next morning we all awake at the crack of dawn to the sound of a cell phone alarm. It takes some time to get Doodie and Maggie moving, but the rest of us (strangely, the older of us) do our best to get everyone up. Molly will quietly go into my parents room and tell them we're all awake, but they send her back out. She breaks the news to all of us--Doodie and Mags are awake and anxious by now--"They don't think Santa came. They said we were up too late."
"No way!" "They just don't want to get up!" "Yeah, right! Jump on their bed!"
The little ones lead the way into my parents room, turning on lights and hopping on the bed until Mom and Dad have no choice but to get up. Mom has to brush her hair and wash her face before we go downstairs, but Dad shuffles down to see if Santa came.
"Whoa! You guys! Look at this!" Duh, we can't. We aren't allowed downstairs until Mom is down and has taken the most unflattering picture of the year: Us, lined up on the stairs, with sleepers in our eyes and really bad hair.
Maggie is close to wetting herself with anticipation. The same can be said of Boomer, who has to be let outside. Molly is shivering and just wants to get next to the fire and warm up. Finally, Dad lets us come downstairs.
A great ooh and aah sound out as we come around the corner and see our stuffed stockings and presents. Santa is too good to us (well, a lot better than he was when I was little...) and everyone is excited.
Maggie can read this year, so she gets to pass out the presents under the tree, reading each person's name as she hands the gifts over. Once they're all distributed, we can open the presents--one by one, person by person, youngest to oldest. (Maggie's "biggesht preshent" isn't as exciting as she thought it would be, reminding us all that the best gifts come in small packages.)
Boomer is finally let back into the house, after all of the wrapping paper has been collected, and her new pig ear is ready for devouring. Mom shuffles into the kitchen to pull out the coffee cake she made the night before (hmm...who did you say was up late?) and Dad sets himself to making scrambled eggs.
Oh, how I am going to miss all of that this year. There are some things about Christmas that are so predictable, and so cherished. I can't explain the affinity I have for the expected, but its strong.
But, although I've been homesick lately, I recently made a decision. I'm going to grow up, cope, and create my own traditions (with a few of my family's thrown in). By the time we have kids, Daniel is going to be sick of my traditions, but I don't care. I've started a countdown chain (you know, cut off a link each day you get closer to Christmas...) and have hung paper snowflakes and mini candy canes from the ceiling. We're not going to bed Christmas Eve until we've read the real Christmas story. And I'm going to make coffee cake for Christmas morning, and I'll be darned if we don't have scrambled eggs with it.
So even though we won't have many gifts under our tree (which we are going to cut off the mountain this weekend, by the way), and we won't have any mini yorkshire pudding, Christmas will be special. Christmas will be wonderful. Christmas will be the same. I can't wait.
I'm sure the majority of the homesickness is caused by the fact that I know I won't be home for Christmas. I've never been away from my immediate family on Christmas before, and even though I'll see them two days later, the thought of not participating in all of our traditions is almost overwhelmingly sad.
It all starts with Christmas Eve morning. No one gets up particularly early, except for mom who usually can't stay in bed with all of the things on her to do list nagging at her. Eventually, though, the whole family is awake and either Molly or I turn on the Christmas music. We're talking something energetic to get everyone going, like Doc Severinson and the Tonight Show Orchestra. The fire is already going in the fireplace (that's all my family uses for heat in the winter, anyway) and the Christmas music brings the most wonderful feeling into the air. As soon as everyone has gotten in my mom's way at some point (which is really easy, as she spends a lot of the day in the kitchen) she finally asks us if we could do this, or that to help clean the house. I usually get to clean one of the upstairs bathrooms, while Lizzy gets the smallest bathroom downstairs (little stinker...) Then we set ourselves to vacuuming, sweeping, keeping the dog outside or the kids upstairs, emptying the dishwasher so there's room for that evening, etc.
Then, at about four o'clock, something transforms the house. The anticipation reaches a peak, and we have to turn on some mellower music to keep a sense of calm about the house. We can all put our presents under the tree now, but as soon as they're there they cannot be touched again until the next morning. The kinder are all scrambling around as much as they can to see who each present is going to, without touching them. Maggie comes running into the kitchen and says "The biggesht preshent ish for ME! Cam-er-on didn't get one big ash mine!" or Doodie will come right up beside me and say "Emile, that one behind the trunk is for you. I got it at the school store. But I won't tell you what it is. But don't forget about it, because it's behind the trunk, ok?"
Finally, my dad will come downstairs with one of his nicer plaid shirts tucked into his pleated khakis and brown loafers and gently remind the kinder that there are still things to be done, and not to worry about the presents for now.
Then, the dining-room table is set with all of G.G.'s china (which we've learned over the years has to be supplemented by other pieces of dishware...there just isn't enough for the whole family!) The food comes out of the oven and my dad dons an apron to proceed with carving. The potatoes and fruit salad are transferred to their serving bowsl. The little individual yorkshire puddings are carefully (and rather artfully) placed in the bread basket. Animal and Doodie fill G.G.'s beautiful crystal goblets with Martinelli's. The missionaries arrive, we've all changed into our sister's nicest khakis (heaven forbid we wear our own clothes!), and my dad asks someone to say a blessing.
Christmas is finally here, in all of its glorious splendor!
We line-up to serve ourselves in the kitchen (there's no room for all of the food on the table, what with such a huge crowd each Christmas) and then the procession heads into the dining room. A great confusion as to where everyone is sitting ensues, of course, and if you're not deeply involved in the seating it can be quite comical.
"Anna, that's Gramma's spot. You sit over here." "But I want to sit next to Molly." "Molly's here for a whole week, you can sit next to her some other time..."
"Liz, I already drank out of that glass, so it's my spot." "Well then trade me glasses, cus I want to sit on the end..."
"Doodie, you can't sit there. You're at the kinder table." "Again?!" (shuffling away with a pout until he sees that the kinder table has its very own bottle of Martinelli's.)
"Umm, Emile, can you move over here?" (Dad, gesturing that we shouldn't seat Elder So-and-so between two teenage girls.)
And so on until we're all finally settled. Dad asks someone to pass the gravy. Someone has already finished their first glass of sparkling cider and wants some more. I ask for the yorkshire pudding to be passed (a request I repeat a few more times throughout the meal...) Etc.
And when Molly and Grampa have both helped themselves to more fruit salad than anyone else combined...And I've devoured the last yorkshire pudding...and the candles have had to be extinguished because they've come dangerously close to dripping on the tablecloth...
Gramma starts the symphony. She dips her finger into her water, places it on the top of her goblet, and round and round her finger goes. It starts with the faintest pinging at first, which then grows louder and louder as we all join in. It takes Doodie a minute or two to figure out exactly how to do it--with Maggie schooling him as if she's an expert--but we finally have a full "symphony."
The food is gone from everyone's plates, but before we all get up someone reminds us--as if we need reminding--that mom used to be able to recite the whole "Night before Christmas" poem. Can she still do it?
Someone runs to get the book, just in case she needs a hint, and the recitation begins. She usually needs a little prompting at about the point where "dry leaves that before the wild hurrican fly," but beyond that she has everything under control. When she's done, a cheer rings out for her annual display, which signals the end of the dinner portion.
We all help to clear the table, and carefully move G.G.'s dishes into the kitchen sink. A little bit of tidying up takes place as leftovers are quickly put away and the main dishes are washed and stacked next to the sink while others are placed in the dishwasher.
Finally, its time for grab-bag. The rules are explained for the elders' sakes ("Oh, it's kind of like white elephants!" "No. It's better.") and the game ensues.
Anywhere from one to two hours later, after everyone has had a chance at the chocolate orange or the cordial cherries and the hot item of the year (which has ranged from a Backstreet Boys CD or a Duncan yo-yo to some Pampered Chef cooking utensils or Harry Potter Legos) has been stolen countless times, the game ends and everyone trades their treasures.
To bring the mood down a bit from a raucous, rambunctious state my dad will calmly remind us that "as fun as the grab-bag is, and as big as the presents are under the tree" (Maggie smiles greedily) there is a more important meaning of Christmas. We all settle down, then, as Dad reads the Christmas story from the Book of Luke.
The spirit is strong and undeniable at that point. We silently sit and enjoy the warmth that envelopes us for a few moments before Dad asks us to kneel for family prayer. Gramma and Grampa mention something about being old, but because its Christmas they'll still kneel. Then, someone offers a prayer that may seem nothing special to anyone else, but because its Christmas it echoes in our hearts and stays with us for what seems like forever. Then, we all say goodnight to the missionaries as they leave.
"Hey, has anyone checked Norad lately?" Norad, the Santa Tracker, is hastily pulled up on the computer and we all learn that *gasp* he's in North America! We all need to get to bed immediately so that he doesn't skip our house! After quick changes into pajamas, and claiming spots on Lizzy's bedroom floor (Al of the kids sleep in the same room on Christmas Eve, and Lizzy just happens to have to the biggest room) we all settle down for at least an hour of giggling and the occasional "Guys, go to sleep!"
Then, just as we're all getting sleepy and are ready to stop talking, we hear it: Bells. Outside the window. It's Santa! The reindeer bells (which sound remarkably similar to camel bells...) ring out once more and Maggie jumps up, "Guysh! I'm sherioush! We all need to go to shleep!" Finally, we all know Santa is quite near and that we all must go to sleep, otherwise he'll skip our house.
The next morning we all awake at the crack of dawn to the sound of a cell phone alarm. It takes some time to get Doodie and Maggie moving, but the rest of us (strangely, the older of us) do our best to get everyone up. Molly will quietly go into my parents room and tell them we're all awake, but they send her back out. She breaks the news to all of us--Doodie and Mags are awake and anxious by now--"They don't think Santa came. They said we were up too late."
"No way!" "They just don't want to get up!" "Yeah, right! Jump on their bed!"
The little ones lead the way into my parents room, turning on lights and hopping on the bed until Mom and Dad have no choice but to get up. Mom has to brush her hair and wash her face before we go downstairs, but Dad shuffles down to see if Santa came.
"Whoa! You guys! Look at this!" Duh, we can't. We aren't allowed downstairs until Mom is down and has taken the most unflattering picture of the year: Us, lined up on the stairs, with sleepers in our eyes and really bad hair.
Maggie is close to wetting herself with anticipation. The same can be said of Boomer, who has to be let outside. Molly is shivering and just wants to get next to the fire and warm up. Finally, Dad lets us come downstairs.
A great ooh and aah sound out as we come around the corner and see our stuffed stockings and presents. Santa is too good to us (well, a lot better than he was when I was little...) and everyone is excited.
Maggie can read this year, so she gets to pass out the presents under the tree, reading each person's name as she hands the gifts over. Once they're all distributed, we can open the presents--one by one, person by person, youngest to oldest. (Maggie's "biggesht preshent" isn't as exciting as she thought it would be, reminding us all that the best gifts come in small packages.)
Boomer is finally let back into the house, after all of the wrapping paper has been collected, and her new pig ear is ready for devouring. Mom shuffles into the kitchen to pull out the coffee cake she made the night before (hmm...who did you say was up late?) and Dad sets himself to making scrambled eggs.
Oh, how I am going to miss all of that this year. There are some things about Christmas that are so predictable, and so cherished. I can't explain the affinity I have for the expected, but its strong.
But, although I've been homesick lately, I recently made a decision. I'm going to grow up, cope, and create my own traditions (with a few of my family's thrown in). By the time we have kids, Daniel is going to be sick of my traditions, but I don't care. I've started a countdown chain (you know, cut off a link each day you get closer to Christmas...) and have hung paper snowflakes and mini candy canes from the ceiling. We're not going to bed Christmas Eve until we've read the real Christmas story. And I'm going to make coffee cake for Christmas morning, and I'll be darned if we don't have scrambled eggs with it.
So even though we won't have many gifts under our tree (which we are going to cut off the mountain this weekend, by the way), and we won't have any mini yorkshire pudding, Christmas will be special. Christmas will be wonderful. Christmas will be the same. I can't wait.
Thursday, November 20, 2008
Final research thesis
Friends and kind readers,
As many of you know, I'm in my last semester at BYU. Which also means I'm writing my senior thesis this semester. I FINALLY got my research topic approved, so now I can start collecting data.
I'm doing a study on the leisure patterns of married people, male and female. If any of you are married, could you PLEASE take my survey. It's available online at the link below, and it should only take about ten minutes. I need as many responses as I can get, so if you know anyone else who could take my survey, forward the link to them. Its really important that I collect as much as I can.
Thank you!
https://byu.qualtrics.com/SE?SID=SV_a4MpwZNREjA6Lf6&SVID=Prod
As many of you know, I'm in my last semester at BYU. Which also means I'm writing my senior thesis this semester. I FINALLY got my research topic approved, so now I can start collecting data.
I'm doing a study on the leisure patterns of married people, male and female. If any of you are married, could you PLEASE take my survey. It's available online at the link below, and it should only take about ten minutes. I need as many responses as I can get, so if you know anyone else who could take my survey, forward the link to them. Its really important that I collect as much as I can.
Thank you!
https://byu.qualtrics.com/SE?SID=SV_a4MpwZNREjA6Lf6&SVID=Prod
Wednesday, November 5, 2008
Drive by...being shot at.
So, my husband was shot in the face...
Yeah, that's what I told my mom. Her reaction was priceless.
It's true, though. Daniel was shot in the face. With a gun. Here's the story:
About two weeks ago, Daniel was driving along in his school bus--minding his own business, taking the kids home--when he heard a loud pop, or a bang kind of sound, and at the same time his chin started throbbing. A few moments later he was oozing blood (which was what I saw on his shirt when he came home. It scared me to death!) and trying to figure out what had happened. The inly thing he could figure was that a rock had flown up through his open window and hit his jaw and then fell back out.
So, the next few days his chin kept oozing pussy-bloody gunk (yuck, I know) until it finally stopped. There was still quite an abscess on his jaw, though, and after awhile he could kind of move it around under the skin. Well, we did the math and figured that the rock had hit his bone hard enough to chip it, and the bone chip was still floating around in the skin mass--kind of like when I broke the tip of my index finger.
Well, yesterday, he finally went in to the doctor--now that he knew what was wrong--to see about getting the bone chip removed. The doctor obliged, and voila! Out came the little chunk.
Only it wasn't a bone chip. It was a BB. Yup, a BB.
The doctor gave him a nice little stitch back up and sent him home--BB and all. He's keeping it in a little dixie cup for now...
Once Daniel realized what had actually happened--someone was shooting at him, instead of a rock flying up through the window--he went back and looked at his bus. There are little dings all up and down the side of it where it has been hit with BB's.
We're just thankful that they didn't aim any higher, otherwise Daniel could be missing an eye. Scary, huh?
Yeah, that's what I told my mom. Her reaction was priceless.
It's true, though. Daniel was shot in the face. With a gun. Here's the story:
About two weeks ago, Daniel was driving along in his school bus--minding his own business, taking the kids home--when he heard a loud pop, or a bang kind of sound, and at the same time his chin started throbbing. A few moments later he was oozing blood (which was what I saw on his shirt when he came home. It scared me to death!) and trying to figure out what had happened. The inly thing he could figure was that a rock had flown up through his open window and hit his jaw and then fell back out.
So, the next few days his chin kept oozing pussy-bloody gunk (yuck, I know) until it finally stopped. There was still quite an abscess on his jaw, though, and after awhile he could kind of move it around under the skin. Well, we did the math and figured that the rock had hit his bone hard enough to chip it, and the bone chip was still floating around in the skin mass--kind of like when I broke the tip of my index finger.
Well, yesterday, he finally went in to the doctor--now that he knew what was wrong--to see about getting the bone chip removed. The doctor obliged, and voila! Out came the little chunk.
Only it wasn't a bone chip. It was a BB. Yup, a BB.
The doctor gave him a nice little stitch back up and sent him home--BB and all. He's keeping it in a little dixie cup for now...
Once Daniel realized what had actually happened--someone was shooting at him, instead of a rock flying up through the window--he went back and looked at his bus. There are little dings all up and down the side of it where it has been hit with BB's.
We're just thankful that they didn't aim any higher, otherwise Daniel could be missing an eye. Scary, huh?
Friday, October 31, 2008
The desire to bake...
I've decided being poor is the worst. Not because we aren't able to eat out as much, or because we have to rent a computer due to the lack of funds to purchase our own. Not because we aren't able to buy new clothes or even a new bedspread (which we desperately need.) The main reason I hate being a poor, starving college student is because I can't buy the ingredients or supplies I need to try the long list of recipes I've collected.
On my birthday, Daniel gave me the most incredible cook book, complete with a roasting emphasis. There are so many recipes contained therein that I've been aching to attempt. (Lemon-herb infused roast duck, anyone?) But we just don't have the money to purchase a full duck!
But what I really long to explore is the world of baking. I recently found a blog titled "Dessert First." The author is a part-time cookbook writer, part-time cookbook reviewer. Can you imagine a world better than that? When she's not concocting new recipes and writing them up, she's evaluating others' recipes. Bliss! And her specialty is, you guessed it, desserts. And her passion of baking. Oh, how I share that sentiment.
She has a blog entry completely devoted to one cake. The name of said cake is Mozart. That's right, it has a name. And, as can be deduced from the name, it is quite complex. Imagine, if you will, the unorthodox combination of apples and cinnamon in chocolate. The cake is layered with "crisp, cinnamon-almond pastry alternating with a dense chocolate mousse studded with sauteed apples." The complexity and genius of the recipe is almost overwhelming--especially for a more novice cook such as myself...which is perhaps why I am so eager to attempt it.
She's also dedicated an entry to her Peppermint-chocolate Macaroons, a perfect holiday treat. The ingredients are not particularly difficult to attain, nor does the recipe require and sort of obscene amount of work. But it does require a mixer, which I do not have.
Being poor is the worst. Not only do I not have a spring-form pan to attempt Mozart, but I have no sifter for the almond, sugar, and cocoa powder ingredients to complete the tantalizing macaroons.
I find hope in the thought that someday I will not only have time to try my hand at all sorts of complex recipes, but I will also be able to afford the materials and ingredients required. How I wish that day would arrive soon.
On my birthday, Daniel gave me the most incredible cook book, complete with a roasting emphasis. There are so many recipes contained therein that I've been aching to attempt. (Lemon-herb infused roast duck, anyone?) But we just don't have the money to purchase a full duck!
But what I really long to explore is the world of baking. I recently found a blog titled "Dessert First." The author is a part-time cookbook writer, part-time cookbook reviewer. Can you imagine a world better than that? When she's not concocting new recipes and writing them up, she's evaluating others' recipes. Bliss! And her specialty is, you guessed it, desserts. And her passion of baking. Oh, how I share that sentiment.
She has a blog entry completely devoted to one cake. The name of said cake is Mozart. That's right, it has a name. And, as can be deduced from the name, it is quite complex. Imagine, if you will, the unorthodox combination of apples and cinnamon in chocolate. The cake is layered with "crisp, cinnamon-almond pastry alternating with a dense chocolate mousse studded with sauteed apples." The complexity and genius of the recipe is almost overwhelming--especially for a more novice cook such as myself...which is perhaps why I am so eager to attempt it.
She's also dedicated an entry to her Peppermint-chocolate Macaroons, a perfect holiday treat. The ingredients are not particularly difficult to attain, nor does the recipe require and sort of obscene amount of work. But it does require a mixer, which I do not have.
Being poor is the worst. Not only do I not have a spring-form pan to attempt Mozart, but I have no sifter for the almond, sugar, and cocoa powder ingredients to complete the tantalizing macaroons.I find hope in the thought that someday I will not only have time to try my hand at all sorts of complex recipes, but I will also be able to afford the materials and ingredients required. How I wish that day would arrive soon.
Sunday, October 26, 2008
Newlyweds?
So, today is my six month anniversary. Yeah, sure, six months doesn't sound that long until you say it like this: half a year. Okay. Okay. It still probably doesn't sound that long to most of you. But think about it from my perspective: I had only known Daniel six months when he proposed. Obviously six months is a long enough time for two people to meet, become friends, date other people, (finally) date each other, and then fall in love! We didn't have to meet any of those incredible landmarks these past six months, so think about what we've had time to accomplish.
Daniel and I have grown closer than I thought was possible. I'm almost sentimental as I think about the struggles we've been through. We've learned to work together (both at home and in our employment...it's tough learning to supervise the same staff members without seeming to gang up on them); we've learned how to balance jobs, school, home, and recreation; and we've figured out that no matter what we do, money always seem to be a concern.
We've come a long way since we met back in Jackson, a year and a half ago. I was chasing his best friend, and both of us were trying to avoid the obvious "connection" we had. Man, we were stupid. Isn't that always the way? I remember when my mom met both the boys I'd spent my summer with: Daniel, whose friendship was the most natural and strong I've ever had, and Mike, who's description fit everything I thought I wanted. My mom said "Well, Mike's a great guy. But if it doesn't work out with him, I'm definitely rooting for Daniel." I should have known. Mothers are always right.
And we've come an even longer way since we were married six months ago. I can finally predict his behavior. (He had me down in about a month...I'm obviously a little slower.) And he is finally surprised by some of the things I say and do. And we've reached a point of understanding where behavior, words, and everything else is unnecessary. I just know him. And he just knows me. We're ready for the next big task the Lord throws at us. We're ready for the rest of eternity.
So, yes, we're still "newlyweds." But the time doesn't matter anymore. Six months. Six years. Six decades, whatever. We're ready.
Daniel and I have grown closer than I thought was possible. I'm almost sentimental as I think about the struggles we've been through. We've learned to work together (both at home and in our employment...it's tough learning to supervise the same staff members without seeming to gang up on them); we've learned how to balance jobs, school, home, and recreation; and we've figured out that no matter what we do, money always seem to be a concern.
We've come a long way since we met back in Jackson, a year and a half ago. I was chasing his best friend, and both of us were trying to avoid the obvious "connection" we had. Man, we were stupid. Isn't that always the way? I remember when my mom met both the boys I'd spent my summer with: Daniel, whose friendship was the most natural and strong I've ever had, and Mike, who's description fit everything I thought I wanted. My mom said "Well, Mike's a great guy. But if it doesn't work out with him, I'm definitely rooting for Daniel." I should have known. Mothers are always right.
And we've come an even longer way since we were married six months ago. I can finally predict his behavior. (He had me down in about a month...I'm obviously a little slower.) And he is finally surprised by some of the things I say and do. And we've reached a point of understanding where behavior, words, and everything else is unnecessary. I just know him. And he just knows me. We're ready for the next big task the Lord throws at us. We're ready for the rest of eternity.
So, yes, we're still "newlyweds." But the time doesn't matter anymore. Six months. Six years. Six decades, whatever. We're ready.
Sunday, October 19, 2008
How to host a murder...
Last night all of the friends got together and had a murder mystery dinner. It was set in the twenties--which was incredibly fun--and I was a club owner named "Silky." By character description was essentially that I was a shady and slinky woman who out to get "Hal" Coppone for murdering my late husband. It was a blast!
I spent about a week perfecting my costume, and I think I ended up doing pretty well. I had a black, silky "dress" with a litte lace here and there, fishnet 
tights (complete with a seam up the back--one of my favorite touches from the evening) and the shoes that I swear are right out of "Leatherheads" or "Chicago." Daniel and I watched both movies before the evening, just for a little inspiration...and entertainment. I tied a black ribbon around my head, stashed a few play bills in the front of my dress, and topped the whole thing off with the most incredible fur coat you're ever seen. Daniel got it a DI a few years ago or something, but basically it made me the best dressed woman there...or maybe the best costumed woman. Either way, everyone loved it.
tights (complete with a seam up the back--one of my favorite touches from the evening) and the shoes that I swear are right out of "Leatherheads" or "Chicago." Daniel and I watched both movies before the evening, just for a little inspiration...and entertainment. I tied a black ribbon around my head, stashed a few play bills in the front of my dress, and topped the whole thing off with the most incredible fur coat you're ever seen. Daniel got it a DI a few years ago or something, but basically it made me the best dressed woman there...or maybe the best costumed woman. Either way, everyone loved it.
Daniel and I found an old-fashioned paper-boy hat for him to wear, and that paired with his snazzy suit and his own great-grandfather's overcoat (which I'm pretty sure is from the twenties, if not shortly there after)made him look pretty incredible as well.
Friday, October 3, 2008
Oh the hilarity
I encourage everyone to PLEASE read my sister, Lizzy's, blog as soon as possible. I find it extremely hilarious. I was sitting in the computer lab on campus this morning--at about 7:40--and had to literally stifle my own laughter. It was not easy. And when I got those "I can't believe you have something to laugh about this early in the morning," looks from people, I had to laugh even harder.
The link to her blog is at the top right of my blog. Go there. It's funny.
The link to her blog is at the top right of my blog. Go there. It's funny.
Thursday, October 2, 2008
Denver, Tahosa, and whole lotta subs...
Ok, Ok. I'm updating. And this time it's not a tag. So there.
Life has been super crazy lately. Last week I was in Colorado for three days with my non-profit administration class. (By the way Aaron and Veronica, I wanted to call and see if we could meet up, but we had absolutely NO freaking time! We couldn't even stop to see my classmates old investigator, even though she was right down the street.) We were so busy, rushing around here and there with all sorts of Boy Scout district executives and committees and stuff, it was insane. And the only thing I had to eat the whole trip was sub sandwiches. We bought a huge two ft. long sub as we left Provo and ate it in the car, then my host family had subs that night for dinner. The next day, the Greely field director took all nine of us to "a great new sub place just around the corner--the Council's buying!" And that evening, when we pulled into Denver, the DE's were so excited to tell us all about their council and feed us--you guessed it--giant sub sandwiches. We didn't have the heart to tell them that we had had the exact same sub sandwiches twenty-four hours before that as we left Provo. As we drove back to Utah the next d
ay, Brad (our professor) told us we would be stopping for gas in a little nameless town in Colorado. And the best part: the gas station had an A&W! But alas, in the year that Brad was away, the A&W has been replaced with--you guessed it--Subway. We were not excited, to say the least. Here's us with the Denver night skyline behind us. I'm on the right, next to the girl with the corn on her head. Can we say Popcorn Sales, anyone?
But other than the food, the trip was amazing. The last night we were there we stayed at Camp Tahosa, in Colorado. We all stayed up late watching the sky (and the numerous shooting stars...I felt like I was in Jackson again!) until we went to bed around midnight. Then, all of us girls continued to talk until two in the morning. I haven't had a "slumber party" since I was about thirteen, but I remembered why there were always so fun. Never mind that three of the five girls there were married.
We got up the next morning before the sun came up and watched the little lake up there begin to shine as the sunlight peeked over the mountain. It was so beautiful. And the aspen leaves literally glowed in the sunrise:
We also went canoeing before we left the camp. It was great, because with an odd number I got my own canoe. It felt good to be back on the water--even thought the water wasn't moving and my canoe was about five feet longer than my river canoe.
I've reached that point where it seems everyone is pregnant. So many of my friends from freshman year are now waltzing around with bellies. And my best friend--although we've kind of drifted since we both got married--has a two month old! It's crazy to me. But I guess we're all just growing up! And babies are good things. Hooray for being old...er.
Life has been super crazy lately. Last week I was in Colorado for three days with my non-profit administration class. (By the way Aaron and Veronica, I wanted to call and see if we could meet up, but we had absolutely NO freaking time! We couldn't even stop to see my classmates old investigator, even though she was right down the street.) We were so busy, rushing around here and there with all sorts of Boy Scout district executives and committees and stuff, it was insane. And the only thing I had to eat the whole trip was sub sandwiches. We bought a huge two ft. long sub as we left Provo and ate it in the car, then my host family had subs that night for dinner. The next day, the Greely field director took all nine of us to "a great new sub place just around the corner--the Council's buying!" And that evening, when we pulled into Denver, the DE's were so excited to tell us all about their council and feed us--you guessed it--giant sub sandwiches. We didn't have the heart to tell them that we had had the exact same sub sandwiches twenty-four hours before that as we left Provo. As we drove back to Utah the next d
ay, Brad (our professor) told us we would be stopping for gas in a little nameless town in Colorado. And the best part: the gas station had an A&W! But alas, in the year that Brad was away, the A&W has been replaced with--you guessed it--Subway. We were not excited, to say the least. Here's us with the Denver night skyline behind us. I'm on the right, next to the girl with the corn on her head. Can we say Popcorn Sales, anyone?But other than the food, the trip was amazing. The last night we were there we stayed at Camp Tahosa, in Colorado. We all stayed up late watching the sky (and the numerous shooting stars...I felt like I was in Jackson again!) until we went to bed around midnight. Then, all of us girls continued to talk until two in the morning. I haven't had a "slumber party" since I was about thirteen, but I remembered why there were always so fun. Never mind that three of the five girls there were married.
We got up the next morning before the sun came up and watched the little lake up there begin to shine as the sunlight peeked over the mountain. It was so beautiful. And the aspen leaves literally glowed in the sunrise:
We also went canoeing before we left the camp. It was great, because with an odd number I got my own canoe. It felt good to be back on the water--even thought the water wasn't moving and my canoe was about five feet longer than my river canoe.Well, the trip was amazing and enjoyed by all, but it also put me behind in my school work. I spent the better part of the weekend and almost every spare minute this week working to catch up. The first chapter of my senior thesis was due yesterday, and I thankfully finished in time. I was literally working to the very last minute though--making sure my references were all perfect and that my margins met APA guidelines. And then I have two papers due today, which I completed late last night. I'm ready for the weekend. And thankfully, I only have one class on Fridays so I don't have to do much tonight.
I did manage to destress a bit last night, though. I made molasses cookies, which I haven't had since last summer at the cabin. I didn't have ginger like I thought I did, but they still turned out alright. I don't think Daniel's as big a fan as I am, but that's ok. More for me. He just bummed cus I made four dozen molasses cookies and used up the rest of the sugar. Oh well--I made six dozen of his favorite a couple weeks ago. He should be content.I've reached that point where it seems everyone is pregnant. So many of my friends from freshman year are now waltzing around with bellies. And my best friend--although we've kind of drifted since we both got married--has a two month old! It's crazy to me. But I guess we're all just growing up! And babies are good things. Hooray for being old...er.
Monday, September 29, 2008
six quirky quirks
1. I hate when things are crooked. I'm not just talking about pictures on the wall, either. I mean, if I have a book sitting on my desk, it must be perpendicular and parallel with the edges of the desk. Daniel will occasionally walk over and pretend to be reading something from my book, just so he can walk away and leave it crooked. I hate that.
2. I am extremely protective of my day planner. It's nothing special--we're not talking leather-bound or anything--it's the generic one they give to all the freshman for free each year. I bought it in the bookstore for three dollars, but it's very important to me. I only write in it with black pen, and anything that's written in it has to be in my handwriting. My doofus husband wrote in it once with green colored pencil. I actually cried. It was such a scar on my beautiful planner. I'm kind of OCD about it, ok?
3. I like washing dishes. But I HATE drying them and putting them away. I'm perfectly content to wash a whole meal's worth of dishes and then leave them sitting in the sink again. As long as they're clean while sitting in the sink I'm fine.
4. I prefer my dry, cracked feet to lotion-y feet any day. I earned those calluses, and I'm proud of 'em. Lotiony feet slide around on my chaco's and that's no fun at all. Besides, my feet aren't that bad.
5. So, I ride my bike about a mile each day to the bus stop in order to catch the express bus down to Provo. And each time I ride my bike, I roll my pant leg up three times. No more. No less. And you better believe those three rolls are perfect.
6. I hate having things in my left-side pockets. This applies to any piece of clothing: pants, jackets, shirts that may have pockets... I would rather carry my phone, wallet, and keys all in my right front pocket than move any of them over to my left. And I can't even explain why.
2. I am extremely protective of my day planner. It's nothing special--we're not talking leather-bound or anything--it's the generic one they give to all the freshman for free each year. I bought it in the bookstore for three dollars, but it's very important to me. I only write in it with black pen, and anything that's written in it has to be in my handwriting. My doofus husband wrote in it once with green colored pencil. I actually cried. It was such a scar on my beautiful planner. I'm kind of OCD about it, ok?
3. I like washing dishes. But I HATE drying them and putting them away. I'm perfectly content to wash a whole meal's worth of dishes and then leave them sitting in the sink again. As long as they're clean while sitting in the sink I'm fine.
4. I prefer my dry, cracked feet to lotion-y feet any day. I earned those calluses, and I'm proud of 'em. Lotiony feet slide around on my chaco's and that's no fun at all. Besides, my feet aren't that bad.
5. So, I ride my bike about a mile each day to the bus stop in order to catch the express bus down to Provo. And each time I ride my bike, I roll my pant leg up three times. No more. No less. And you better believe those three rolls are perfect.
6. I hate having things in my left-side pockets. This applies to any piece of clothing: pants, jackets, shirts that may have pockets... I would rather carry my phone, wallet, and keys all in my right front pocket than move any of them over to my left. And I can't even explain why.
Monday, September 15, 2008
Saturday, August 16, 2008
I've tagged myself...
Ten Years Ago I was . . . .
moving to the other side of the world. About this time, ten years ago, I was eleven and my family moved to Turkmenistan--our home for the next three years. I was most concerned about the fact that sixth grade was considered middle school (not elementary school) and that I was finally one of the "big" kids. 
Turkmenistan was the moon in an oven, and I spent the first month there hiding in-doors or at the pool. It was 126 degrees F the night we arrived...just imagine the heat during the day!
Turkmenistan was the moon in an oven, and I spent the first month there hiding in-doors or at the pool. It was 126 degrees F the night we arrived...just imagine the heat during the day!I was trying my absolute hardest to be a tom-boy when I was eleven, but I failed miserably--you can only pretend to enjoy sports for so long before people figure you out. At about the same time I figured out that my hair was ugly short, and that it also grows extremely slowly. Bad news.
Five Things on my To Do List:
1) Finish this blog entry
2) Figure out if I'm going to buy Chaco shoes or not.
3) Take some meds...
4) Go see Mama Mia with my mom and sisters!
5) Go crazy at the water park with my cousin, Cash!
A snack I enjoy: Recently, I've been way into jerky. Crazy, huh? Daniel and I stopped at a little beef jerky stand a couple weeks ago on our way back from SLC, and got the most amazing elk jerky. I know, sounds gross. But I've been having to control myself and not eat it all at once. I've also had the worst stinking craving for my mom's homemade caramel corn for weeks. Literally. I called her from Jackson and asked if she would send me some (three weeks ago) and she never did. Thank goodness we're together in Boise with Gramma and Grampa...she can't escape. I'm going to help her make it!
Things I would do if I were a millionaire: Pay off school loans...Don't tell my mom, by the way. I don't think she knows we did that. And then I would send Daniel to helicopter pilot school so he can do what he's always wanted to do. And then I would by a Dagger Nomad 7.5 kayak and spend the day going down Lower Canyon. Or maybe Granite Creek. Or maybe the Hoback. And then I would buy my grandparents old cabin in McCall. And that incredilbe house that I would pass everytime I went down Wilson, about a quarter mile past Junkyard Rock. Amazing.
I tag Abby.
I'm a former Meppen, but I've never been a "lady"
One word tag from Molly
1. Where is your cell phone?. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . plugged
2. Your significant other? . . . . . . . .. .. . . . ."truffle-shuffle"
3. Your hair? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . frizzzz
4. Your mother? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . close!
5. Your father? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . diplomatic (in every way possible)
6. Your favorite thing? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . grapefruit
7. Your dream last night? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . forgotten
8. Your favorite drink? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . grapefruit
9. Your dream/goal? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . family
10. The room you're in? . . . . . . . . .. . . . . . .. . . . .suffocating (I'm in my office...)
11. Your hobby? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . river
12. Your fear? . . . .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . heights
13. Where do you want to be in six years? . . . . . . . .family
14. Where were you last night? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Jackson
15. What you're not? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . tactful
16. Muffins? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . corn
17. One of your wish list items? . . . . . . . . . . . . kayak
18. Where you grew up? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . everywhere
19. The last thing you did? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . organized
20. What are you wearing? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . newsunglasses
21. Your tv? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . nonexistent
22. Your pets? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . hubby
23. Your computer? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .dead
24. Your life? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .busy
25. Your mood? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .impatient
26. Missing someone? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . family
27. Your car? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . beast
28. Something you're not wearing? . . . . . . . . . . hat
29. Favorite store? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . REI
30. Your summer? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .camp
31. Like someone? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Danny-boy
32. Your favorite color? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . charcoal
33. When was the last time you laughed?. . . . . . .10:52 am
34. Last time you cried? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . yesterday
35. Who will do this? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . all
Everyone I would tag has already done it! How sad for me...
1. Where is your cell phone?. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . plugged
2. Your significant other? . . . . . . . .. .. . . . ."truffle-shuffle"
3. Your hair? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . frizzzz
4. Your mother? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . close!
5. Your father? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . diplomatic (in every way possible)
6. Your favorite thing? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . grapefruit
7. Your dream last night? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . forgotten
8. Your favorite drink? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . grapefruit
9. Your dream/goal? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . family
10. The room you're in? . . . . . . . . .. . . . . . .. . . . .suffocating (I'm in my office...)
11. Your hobby? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . river
12. Your fear? . . . .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . heights
13. Where do you want to be in six years? . . . . . . . .family
14. Where were you last night? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Jackson
15. What you're not? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . tactful
16. Muffins? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . corn
17. One of your wish list items? . . . . . . . . . . . . kayak
18. Where you grew up? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . everywhere
19. The last thing you did? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . organized
20. What are you wearing? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . newsunglasses
21. Your tv? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . nonexistent
22. Your pets? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . hubby
23. Your computer? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .dead
24. Your life? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .busy
25. Your mood? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .impatient
26. Missing someone? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . family
27. Your car? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . beast
28. Something you're not wearing? . . . . . . . . . . hat
29. Favorite store? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . REI
30. Your summer? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .camp
31. Like someone? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Danny-boy
32. Your favorite color? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . charcoal
33. When was the last time you laughed?. . . . . . .10:52 am
34. Last time you cried? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . yesterday
35. Who will do this? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . all
Everyone I would tag has already done it! How sad for me...
Wednesday, July 23, 2008
National Nomination
Much has changed since my last entry, and I apologize for the absence. The two major changes that have taken place since Johnny-Scout Day are (1)I'm no longer a river guide, and (2)I've been nominated for a national award!
Lemme esplain....
I worked my tail off for five weeks as a guide: running the river, havin' a blast. But then I got sick for, like, three weeks and was only able to do scenic raft trips (it's kinda hard to lift an aluminum canoe when you can't even lift your own arm above your head, ya know?) But because those aren't exactly in high demand amongst teenage boys, I was doing a lot more in the office making myself indespensible to upper management. So when Dan Jones (Charles, you know him, I think?) came looking for a job for the second half of the summer, the director and I sat down and he basically said: You're amazing and you do too much for me to let you back on the river full-time.
So now Dan Jones is on the river, and I’m full-time interning. And I actually really enjoy it. Sure, it’s not as exhilarating as the river, and I’m not going to be nearly as fit and tan as last summer, but I’m learning how to do what I want to do. And I’ve unofficially been offered the assistant camp director position for next, which is way cool. The only problem is going to be finding a job between when I graduate in December, and when I need to be back up here in Jackson in June.
As for my national award nomination, lemme esplain some more…
The first week of camp was full of excitement and danger, just as every week is, but we had quite the incident. One pinned boat, an amazing one-match fire, and a broken rib later everything was fine.
We had a huge group going down Wilson (a twenty-mile canoe trip that takes almost the entire day) so we had two groups of about 13 boats launch, then me with the raft, then two more groups with similar numbers. Well, they were having a particularly hard time that day, so I ended up going faster than the canoes and eventually overtook the second group and came up on the first. I was just passing them when a boat with a mother and her son swamped, and Matt started going after them to fix the situation. I went around a bend in the river and they disappeared. I wasn’t worried though. Swamping is the most common-place thing in the world on the river. Well, we had travelled about ten more minutes down the river when a boat from another company caught up to us. They suggested we pull over and wait for our canoes, but I knew we didn’t have any reason to, so I thanked him kindly and let him pass. (It bugged me, though, because it was the guide from Lewis and Clark Expeditions that thinks he’s something else…I didn’t want to take his advice.) But a few minutes later I got the feeling that I really should pull over, we stopped our raft on an island between the main current and a random side channel. I sat there and joked around with my rafters for a few more minutes when I looked up river and saw a woman in a scout life jacket floating down the random channel. I ran over to see if she was ok, and I realized she was barely able to keep her head above the water. So I ran back and got my throw rope and got it to her in time to tow her in. Just as I got her back to my raft to sit down and tell me how she came to be floating down the river exhausted, Matt came around the bend with her son in his canoe, searching frantically for the woman.
I finally got the full story: Just after I passed Matt going to unswamp them, they got pushed down a wrong channel. The channel is one that we never take because it’s completely blocked off at one point by a huge log. Well, he got them righted and everything, but then they swamped again and ended up going right into the log. The woman got swept under and stuck in the branches under the water, while the canoe pinned the son against the log. His head was still out of the water, though, so Matt, doing the right thing, went after the woman first. He pulled and pulled at her until he was finally able to get her head high enough out of the water to let her get a breath. But the river was still pushing thousands of pounds of pressure at the rest of her body, forcing her under the log. Well, Matt quickly explained to her that her only option was to break through the branches under the water and come out the other side. She agreed and he let her go.
She was able to break through and Matt pulled her up on the other side of the log. He told her to swim to the eddy just down river from them—right in his sight—while he went after her son. She said she understood and he let her go. But she was just too exhausted to make it and the current carried her downstream. Matt had to choose between chasing her down and helping the son. He did the latter, and after a lot of pushing and tugging managed to get the canoe off him enough to pull him out. Once he was out, Matt put him in his canoe and went after the woman. But while he was helping the son, I found the woman and towed her in.
Once we had them back together, we realized that they were both shivering uncontrollably and that the son was barely coherent. I was terrified when I saw his eyes roll back into his head and when he couldn’t tell me where he was. The woman was in the early stages of hypothermia, while the son was already setting into hypothermic shock. We stripped him down almost completely and put several layers of dry clothing on him (thankfully all of the river guides eventually pulled over with us and we had tons of spare fleeces and hats). We had four or five of those space blankets on them (apparently those things actually work!) and some of those air activated hand warmers going on their feet. There was no safe place nearby to pull them off the river and have someone pick them up, so we got them into the raft and I rushed them to the lunch spot. The water had almost completely flooded the island, but I found a dry patch of cobblestone and enough dry wood to start and amazing one match fire that was blazing in about five minutes. We had them both sit next to it, and by the end of lunch they were walking around in just their swimsuits again.
It was really scary, but when we realized they were going to be fine, it was a huge relief.
We found out later that Matt actually broke a rib in the process (he’s not sure how, but he did).
Anyway, we got a package from the mother a couple of weeks later with a bag of cookies and a bag of lifesavers each for Matt, Jamie (the camp medic, who, thankfully, was on the trip), and myself. Along with that was a thank you card informing us that we had been nominated for the National Court of Honor Lifesaving or Merit award. Kinda cool, huh?
The only bummer part is knowing that we could never win. We’re river guides…lifesaving is kind of in the job description. Oh well.
So now that I’ve spent a good amount of time avoiding mindless paperwork and writing a paper for my internship, I suppose I should return to work. Yay.
Lemme esplain....
I worked my tail off for five weeks as a guide: running the river, havin' a blast. But then I got sick for, like, three weeks and was only able to do scenic raft trips (it's kinda hard to lift an aluminum canoe when you can't even lift your own arm above your head, ya know?) But because those aren't exactly in high demand amongst teenage boys, I was doing a lot more in the office making myself indespensible to upper management. So when Dan Jones (Charles, you know him, I think?) came looking for a job for the second half of the summer, the director and I sat down and he basically said: You're amazing and you do too much for me to let you back on the river full-time.
So now Dan Jones is on the river, and I’m full-time interning. And I actually really enjoy it. Sure, it’s not as exhilarating as the river, and I’m not going to be nearly as fit and tan as last summer, but I’m learning how to do what I want to do. And I’ve unofficially been offered the assistant camp director position for next, which is way cool. The only problem is going to be finding a job between when I graduate in December, and when I need to be back up here in Jackson in June.
As for my national award nomination, lemme esplain some more…
The first week of camp was full of excitement and danger, just as every week is, but we had quite the incident. One pinned boat, an amazing one-match fire, and a broken rib later everything was fine.
We had a huge group going down Wilson (a twenty-mile canoe trip that takes almost the entire day) so we had two groups of about 13 boats launch, then me with the raft, then two more groups with similar numbers. Well, they were having a particularly hard time that day, so I ended up going faster than the canoes and eventually overtook the second group and came up on the first. I was just passing them when a boat with a mother and her son swamped, and Matt started going after them to fix the situation. I went around a bend in the river and they disappeared. I wasn’t worried though. Swamping is the most common-place thing in the world on the river. Well, we had travelled about ten more minutes down the river when a boat from another company caught up to us. They suggested we pull over and wait for our canoes, but I knew we didn’t have any reason to, so I thanked him kindly and let him pass. (It bugged me, though, because it was the guide from Lewis and Clark Expeditions that thinks he’s something else…I didn’t want to take his advice.) But a few minutes later I got the feeling that I really should pull over, we stopped our raft on an island between the main current and a random side channel. I sat there and joked around with my rafters for a few more minutes when I looked up river and saw a woman in a scout life jacket floating down the random channel. I ran over to see if she was ok, and I realized she was barely able to keep her head above the water. So I ran back and got my throw rope and got it to her in time to tow her in. Just as I got her back to my raft to sit down and tell me how she came to be floating down the river exhausted, Matt came around the bend with her son in his canoe, searching frantically for the woman.
I finally got the full story: Just after I passed Matt going to unswamp them, they got pushed down a wrong channel. The channel is one that we never take because it’s completely blocked off at one point by a huge log. Well, he got them righted and everything, but then they swamped again and ended up going right into the log. The woman got swept under and stuck in the branches under the water, while the canoe pinned the son against the log. His head was still out of the water, though, so Matt, doing the right thing, went after the woman first. He pulled and pulled at her until he was finally able to get her head high enough out of the water to let her get a breath. But the river was still pushing thousands of pounds of pressure at the rest of her body, forcing her under the log. Well, Matt quickly explained to her that her only option was to break through the branches under the water and come out the other side. She agreed and he let her go.
She was able to break through and Matt pulled her up on the other side of the log. He told her to swim to the eddy just down river from them—right in his sight—while he went after her son. She said she understood and he let her go. But she was just too exhausted to make it and the current carried her downstream. Matt had to choose between chasing her down and helping the son. He did the latter, and after a lot of pushing and tugging managed to get the canoe off him enough to pull him out. Once he was out, Matt put him in his canoe and went after the woman. But while he was helping the son, I found the woman and towed her in.
Once we had them back together, we realized that they were both shivering uncontrollably and that the son was barely coherent. I was terrified when I saw his eyes roll back into his head and when he couldn’t tell me where he was. The woman was in the early stages of hypothermia, while the son was already setting into hypothermic shock. We stripped him down almost completely and put several layers of dry clothing on him (thankfully all of the river guides eventually pulled over with us and we had tons of spare fleeces and hats). We had four or five of those space blankets on them (apparently those things actually work!) and some of those air activated hand warmers going on their feet. There was no safe place nearby to pull them off the river and have someone pick them up, so we got them into the raft and I rushed them to the lunch spot. The water had almost completely flooded the island, but I found a dry patch of cobblestone and enough dry wood to start and amazing one match fire that was blazing in about five minutes. We had them both sit next to it, and by the end of lunch they were walking around in just their swimsuits again.
It was really scary, but when we realized they were going to be fine, it was a huge relief.
We found out later that Matt actually broke a rib in the process (he’s not sure how, but he did).
Anyway, we got a package from the mother a couple of weeks later with a bag of cookies and a bag of lifesavers each for Matt, Jamie (the camp medic, who, thankfully, was on the trip), and myself. Along with that was a thank you card informing us that we had been nominated for the National Court of Honor Lifesaving or Merit award. Kinda cool, huh?
The only bummer part is knowing that we could never win. We’re river guides…lifesaving is kind of in the job description. Oh well.
So now that I’ve spent a good amount of time avoiding mindless paperwork and writing a paper for my internship, I suppose I should return to work. Yay.
Friday, June 20, 2008
Starting to feel like home
Today was Johnny-Scout Day, here at the base. And, can I just say, it was a complete blast! For those who don't know, Johnny-Scout day is a day when all of the return river guides behave as the worst scouts they've ever taken down the river and do all of stupid things a scout has every done--all in one day. My friend Jamie and I (we're the only female guides this year, and we're both return guides) actually paired up in a canoe instead of riding gusto (by ourselves, in our own canoes, like everyone else) so we could really play off each other as we were going down the river.
It was great! We told all of the guides that my name was Teena Tonner and her name was Tonna Teener. And then we switched names half way through the day--just to throw them off. I wore bright green goggles on my head all day, and "Tonna" wore a superman tank top over her life jacket. Basically we were awesome.
The key was to do things that we had actually seen and had scouts do to us. It was great. The highlights include swamping our canoe immediately after we launched. The put-in is located just before Wilson bridge, and we use a shallow eddy area right in front of the pile-on to launch. We did what at least one scout pair does every week and hit the pile-on immediately and swamped. It was hilarious.
We sang obnoxious songs all the way--with the crucial "just around the riverbend" a few too many times--and kept telling our guide that "When I was here last year, the guides let us take whatever channel we wanted," or "Last year the river guides didn't yell as much...maybe you shouldn't yell at Johnny and Edwin when they swamp their boats." Our guide got so frustrated with us, it was hilarious. But I feel kind of bad about it now. Kind of.
And I lost my life jacket. Don't worry, I had my own in my dry bag, and the jacket I lost was one that they were throwing away anyway cus it was torn. But I had a scout leader lose his once on the river, so I had to do the same thing. That's what Johnny-Scout Day is all about! When my guides realized I didn't have one on, they flipped. They couldn't figure out what to do about it, til I finally pulled my own jacket out.
But my favorite moment was after lunch when we got ahead of the group and Jamie dropped me off at a log jam in the middle of the river, and then kept paddling downstream. It took the guides about 45 minutes to find me and rescue me. It was great! I just sat there chilling in the middle of the river, singing to myself and letting my feet dangle in the current. But then I started freaking out when I saw them, pretending I was barely balanced on it. They were actually kind of nervous for me, til they realized there was a huge calm eddy right behind the logs. But still. It was funny.
Anyway, enough of my antics that I'm oh-so-proud of. I just kind of wanted to share that being on the river this week really brought me back. Last week it didn't quite feel the same as it did when I was here last year, simply because it was so snowy and cold the whole week. But this week the sun came out and the water warmed up (and went up to 19,800 cfs, by the way! Charles, you would LOVE it. The waves at Junkyard are AWESOME! Red Moose is kind of a bummer, though. Sad.) I felt much more in my element walking around in a swimsuit and river shorts than when I was wearing a wet suit and neoprene socks with my chaco's last week. Too much neoprene drags you down, I've decided.
So, the point is this whole long blog is to say I feel like I'm home again. Now it really feels like the place where I met and (I'm pretty sure) I fell in love with my incredible husband. I'm back. Jackson will always be one of my homes. And I'm definitely home again.
It was great! We told all of the guides that my name was Teena Tonner and her name was Tonna Teener. And then we switched names half way through the day--just to throw them off. I wore bright green goggles on my head all day, and "Tonna" wore a superman tank top over her life jacket. Basically we were awesome.
The key was to do things that we had actually seen and had scouts do to us. It was great. The highlights include swamping our canoe immediately after we launched. The put-in is located just before Wilson bridge, and we use a shallow eddy area right in front of the pile-on to launch. We did what at least one scout pair does every week and hit the pile-on immediately and swamped. It was hilarious.
We sang obnoxious songs all the way--with the crucial "just around the riverbend" a few too many times--and kept telling our guide that "When I was here last year, the guides let us take whatever channel we wanted," or "Last year the river guides didn't yell as much...maybe you shouldn't yell at Johnny and Edwin when they swamp their boats." Our guide got so frustrated with us, it was hilarious. But I feel kind of bad about it now. Kind of.
And I lost my life jacket. Don't worry, I had my own in my dry bag, and the jacket I lost was one that they were throwing away anyway cus it was torn. But I had a scout leader lose his once on the river, so I had to do the same thing. That's what Johnny-Scout Day is all about! When my guides realized I didn't have one on, they flipped. They couldn't figure out what to do about it, til I finally pulled my own jacket out.
But my favorite moment was after lunch when we got ahead of the group and Jamie dropped me off at a log jam in the middle of the river, and then kept paddling downstream. It took the guides about 45 minutes to find me and rescue me. It was great! I just sat there chilling in the middle of the river, singing to myself and letting my feet dangle in the current. But then I started freaking out when I saw them, pretending I was barely balanced on it. They were actually kind of nervous for me, til they realized there was a huge calm eddy right behind the logs. But still. It was funny.
Anyway, enough of my antics that I'm oh-so-proud of. I just kind of wanted to share that being on the river this week really brought me back. Last week it didn't quite feel the same as it did when I was here last year, simply because it was so snowy and cold the whole week. But this week the sun came out and the water warmed up (and went up to 19,800 cfs, by the way! Charles, you would LOVE it. The waves at Junkyard are AWESOME! Red Moose is kind of a bummer, though. Sad.) I felt much more in my element walking around in a swimsuit and river shorts than when I was wearing a wet suit and neoprene socks with my chaco's last week. Too much neoprene drags you down, I've decided.
So, the point is this whole long blog is to say I feel like I'm home again. Now it really feels like the place where I met and (I'm pretty sure) I fell in love with my incredible husband. I'm back. Jackson will always be one of my homes. And I'm definitely home again.
Saturday, June 14, 2008
Back in Jackson
I've been in Jackson for about a week now, and I must say it's changed. Not that the actually city has changed (except that the Jackson Playmill is called the Pink Garter now. What?!), but the dynamic with everyone here is different. I'm sure it's partly because I'm married now, and there's a whole new staff and all that jazz...but there's definitely something different. Different in a good way.
I'm excited about the staff this year. Dave Kunz knows what he's doing, and he's making some extremely needed changes with the camp. In fact, everyone seems to know what they're doing. Last year it was just a bunch of power-trippy "leaders" who didn't lead. I'm thinking this year is going to be awesome.
We came home for the weekend. Daniel had a state in-training for bus drivers today, so I'm just chilling at his parents house. (yay...) I wouldn't have come if the camp didn't need so many vehicles picked up from the council office. We had to drive four people down here to pick up a couple vans and a truck. I'm excited about the truck, though. We're gonna have something that runs this year, instead of that dead, old diesel sitting at camp.
It snowed on Wednesday. And I mean hard core snow--we're talking blizzard here. And the guides were training in the National Park that day. For those who don't know, the park is the most dangerous stretch we do, and tack on limited visibility and hypothermia...not a good mix. We were supposed to do a triple run that day, but we voted not to. We all went back to camp for a history lesson after the first run, instead. I didn't mind--I like the history of the park.
That's all. Farewell fond readers.
I'm excited about the staff this year. Dave Kunz knows what he's doing, and he's making some extremely needed changes with the camp. In fact, everyone seems to know what they're doing. Last year it was just a bunch of power-trippy "leaders" who didn't lead. I'm thinking this year is going to be awesome.
We came home for the weekend. Daniel had a state in-training for bus drivers today, so I'm just chilling at his parents house. (yay...) I wouldn't have come if the camp didn't need so many vehicles picked up from the council office. We had to drive four people down here to pick up a couple vans and a truck. I'm excited about the truck, though. We're gonna have something that runs this year, instead of that dead, old diesel sitting at camp.
It snowed on Wednesday. And I mean hard core snow--we're talking blizzard here. And the guides were training in the National Park that day. For those who don't know, the park is the most dangerous stretch we do, and tack on limited visibility and hypothermia...not a good mix. We were supposed to do a triple run that day, but we voted not to. We all went back to camp for a history lesson after the first run, instead. I didn't mind--I like the history of the park.
That's all. Farewell fond readers.
Friday, June 6, 2008
Lost and found
Good news all!
I found my life jacket! I kept getting this crazy feeling that I never actually packed up my life jacket, and guess what. I hadn't!
Today, my boss let me take the office car and drive down to my old apartment to see if I had left it there, but when I got there no one was home. Well, I've broken into that apartment so many times before, I was confident I could do it again. Alas, someone had placed a block of wood in the window to keep it closed. Well, with my nimbleness I scaled the side of the building and broke into one of the other windows. Ok, just kidding. I didn't climb the brick building. But I DID manage to get through the kitchen window anyway. A stupid piece of wood can't stop me. What were they thinking?
So I got in and guess what was hanging in the front closet... a bright yellow pfd! Mine. Not theirs.
So I took it. Along with my rain jacket and my pvc pipe for the gunwales of my canoe. Huzzah!
But I lost the keys for the change machines at work. I feel like an idiot. I mean, we have spares and stuff...but still. I felt like a complete dipstick.
I was much cheered though, when my boss informed me she was going home early and that I could use the computer. So I promptly hopped on and looked at my weddings pictures! I hadn't seen them yet, cus my parents still had them in Virginia. And for some insane reason, Gerald won't read burned CDs. Stupid. I know.
There, Lizzy. How many words is that?
Wednesday, June 4, 2008
High emotions
My emotions were running extremely high yesterday. I don't know why I couldn't just find a happy medium--I was either fuming mad, or holding back tears, or overjoyed. I just kept swinging from one extreme emotion to the next.
It started when I got home. I walked in the door at about four o'clock--an early time for me. I had just gotten an A on a big presentation and paper and finally finished my paperwork for camp. I walked in and my wonderful husband was sitting on the couch watching the travel channel. I'm not a huge "watch-tv-when-you-get-home-to-relax" kind of person, but he occasionally is. And I'm glad he decided to watch the travel channel--I like travel, and I don't mind hearing all about Oslo, or Samarkand as I do dishes or fold laundry in the other room. And I was happy. Very happy. I just sat on the couch next to Daniel for a bit and smiled. I couldn't think of anything else to do; I was that happy.
But later on we went to his parents house to get my life jacket so I could use it when I go up to Camp Tracy for canoe training (it's mostly just for the newbies...) But when we got to looking through all of the stuff I have stored there we couldn't find the box labeled "TAKE TO JACKSON." We searched for a really long time, and I even opened a box that I was pretty sure just had jackets and such for winter. (Guess what: I was right.) We finally had to give up, simply because we didn't have anywhere else to look. We both double checked my truck, just to make sure I hadn't stashed it behind the seat, or wedged between the spare and the wheel well. It wasn't there. At that point, I was mad. I was furious that I had misplaced something. I'm kind of a control freak, and not knowing where my own belongings are just irritated me to the core.
Then, as we were driving home Daniel was so nice about putting good music on that he knows I like. He started with Mika, then quickly realized I was too mad to sing along so he played Wicked instead. He thought for sure I couldn't resist a little Defying Gravity. He even said, "Emile, relax. Sing along; it'll make you feel better." I told him I didn't want to...I wanted to think about where else my stuff could be. I think he caught the clue when I huffed and pounded the steering wheel as I drove. He kind of shut up after that.
I feel really bad now about being rude to him. It isn't his fault my stuff is missing. I don't think it's anyone's fault--but I was mad and kind of took it out on him. I wish I hadn't been so frustrated.
When we got home I proceeded to search through a few more places I thought I might have put it. I stormed through the house in a huff until I had exhausted all possible hiding places for that ridiculous pfd. And to no avail. Finally, Daniel helped me pick up the mess I had made and mentioned under his breath, "You're no fun when you're mad." Then he quietly left me sitting on the bed and went to finish his book.
I felt terrible. I sat down to work on my activity budget presentation and was barely able to concentrate long enough to finish it. When I was done I went over and sat down next to Daniel and apologized.
I'm a horrible apologizer. I never sound sincere, even when I am. I told him how sorry I was for storming around and spreading my bad spirits, and he accepted my apology but I'm afraid he thought I was just making the motions. I am a horrible apologizer.
That's when I just wanted to cry. I was so frustrated with myself. The whole day I just switched from one extreme emotion to the next, and I never stopped to think about how it was affecting others.
I'm working on controlling myself. I'm working on it.
It started when I got home. I walked in the door at about four o'clock--an early time for me. I had just gotten an A on a big presentation and paper and finally finished my paperwork for camp. I walked in and my wonderful husband was sitting on the couch watching the travel channel. I'm not a huge "watch-tv-when-you-get-home-to-relax" kind of person, but he occasionally is. And I'm glad he decided to watch the travel channel--I like travel, and I don't mind hearing all about Oslo, or Samarkand as I do dishes or fold laundry in the other room. And I was happy. Very happy. I just sat on the couch next to Daniel for a bit and smiled. I couldn't think of anything else to do; I was that happy.
But later on we went to his parents house to get my life jacket so I could use it when I go up to Camp Tracy for canoe training (it's mostly just for the newbies...) But when we got to looking through all of the stuff I have stored there we couldn't find the box labeled "TAKE TO JACKSON." We searched for a really long time, and I even opened a box that I was pretty sure just had jackets and such for winter. (Guess what: I was right.) We finally had to give up, simply because we didn't have anywhere else to look. We both double checked my truck, just to make sure I hadn't stashed it behind the seat, or wedged between the spare and the wheel well. It wasn't there. At that point, I was mad. I was furious that I had misplaced something. I'm kind of a control freak, and not knowing where my own belongings are just irritated me to the core.
Then, as we were driving home Daniel was so nice about putting good music on that he knows I like. He started with Mika, then quickly realized I was too mad to sing along so he played Wicked instead. He thought for sure I couldn't resist a little Defying Gravity. He even said, "Emile, relax. Sing along; it'll make you feel better." I told him I didn't want to...I wanted to think about where else my stuff could be. I think he caught the clue when I huffed and pounded the steering wheel as I drove. He kind of shut up after that.
I feel really bad now about being rude to him. It isn't his fault my stuff is missing. I don't think it's anyone's fault--but I was mad and kind of took it out on him. I wish I hadn't been so frustrated.
When we got home I proceeded to search through a few more places I thought I might have put it. I stormed through the house in a huff until I had exhausted all possible hiding places for that ridiculous pfd. And to no avail. Finally, Daniel helped me pick up the mess I had made and mentioned under his breath, "You're no fun when you're mad." Then he quietly left me sitting on the bed and went to finish his book.
I felt terrible. I sat down to work on my activity budget presentation and was barely able to concentrate long enough to finish it. When I was done I went over and sat down next to Daniel and apologized.
I'm a horrible apologizer. I never sound sincere, even when I am. I told him how sorry I was for storming around and spreading my bad spirits, and he accepted my apology but I'm afraid he thought I was just making the motions. I am a horrible apologizer.
That's when I just wanted to cry. I was so frustrated with myself. The whole day I just switched from one extreme emotion to the next, and I never stopped to think about how it was affecting others.
I'm working on controlling myself. I'm working on it.
Monday, June 2, 2008
Birthdays, Jackson, and other such fun
I've become one of those people that feels they need to create a blog in order to keep others updated on their lives. I've always felt that it was an unnecessary step to take, but my feelings on the matter have changed. I've realized that I'm the epitome of a poor correspondent, and that I don't do much to keep up with people--either to see how they're doing or to let them know how I'm doing. But I realized that my sister has very few means of communicating with us, other than her lovely blog, now that she's in Russia. And it occurred to me that although I'm not moving to the other side of the world, I AM moving to Jackson Hole and I might possibly be in a similar situation soon.
So here I am: blogging. I've created this to keep everyone updated on what Daniel and I are up to. And because I'll be blogging, I will most likely be reading up on everyone else as well. Thus, I am making an effort to be a better correspondent. Wish me luck. I'm sure I'll get the hang of it eventually...right now I'm just lamenting the fact that I've become one of those people. I can't really call them those people anymore, can I? Now they are my people...
Regardless of what kind of people they are, or I am, I suppose my first update is in order.
Friday was my birthday, and what a glorious day it was too! It was full of wonderful surprises, all put together by the most amazing man in my life. (That's Daniel, in case no one got it...)
It all started on Monday when Daniel and I went to look at mountain bikes. We've recently decided that mountain biking a sport that Daniel loves and does quite well at, and one that I should start to love and excel in. That way we have something we can do together--other than burn gas going off-roading, which we've pretty much mastered. And it's a great way to do something healthy. So, we were considering getting a mountain bike for me.
So we went to a few different shops and got a few opinions from people who are supposedly experienced and people who actually are, until I test-rode a bike that I was pretty sure was "the one." Unfortunately, Daniel informed me that we did not have the money for the bike at the moment..."maybe after payday," he said. Alas, there was no purchasing of a bike. I did, however, purchase a helmet to take with me on my trip to Moab with my class (more on that later...)
So, the next day we went back to our normal, non-Memorial Day weekend lives and bored our minds out with work. I made my daily hour-long commute to Provo and dreamt of my bike that may or may not be mine.
Then, on Wednesday, I left for Moab for my Venturing Outdoor Leadership class. We drove down and hiked Delicate Arch on Wednesday (the license plate arch), went mountain biking (when I consecrated my new helmet), rock climbing, and rappelling on Thursday, then drove home on Friday. (Ok, I'll admit it. I didn't actually do the rock climbing and rappelling part. I did belay, however, which is quite an accomplishment for me. I just didn't want to subject the class to the sight of me being ill as I try to conquer the height. That's something I'll work on with just a few close friends, thank you!) When I got back to my apartment on Friday afternoon I lethargically wondered in and dumped my pack in the middle of the floor then proceeded to pull my sandy sleeping back out to air out. Then I flopped dramatically on the couch to call my husband and let him know I was home. "I'mdrivingI'llcallyouback," was all I got out of him. It's kind of against the rules for him to talk on the phone while he's got a school bus full of kids, so I don't blame him. So, then I meandered into the bathroom to relieve myself after several hours of driving, and then wandered into the bedroom. And this is part that I love to tell.
I walked into the room and standing next to the window was the beautiful bike I had picked out on Monday. It stood there in all its glory, with its not too flashy colors, its seat adjusted just right, and its tires still slightly muddy from my test ride on Monday. And sitting on the bedside table was a gorgeous bouquet of flowers, with all of my favorites: stargazers, oriental lilies, gerbers, calla lilies, and Daniel's favorite spider mums. It was bedecked with violet stock, and fern leaves (not the ones that sprinkle everywhere and drive me nuts, but the pretty ones), along with calla lily leaves. It was so colorful and vibrant--absolutely gorgeous. And he had gotten a cook book for me (which I love!) that has a picture for every recipe. That's my thing...I like to know if what I made looks right, so I want a picture for each recipe. He was so cute and remembered. I went through and marked all of the recipes I wanted to try first, and as I was flipping through I found a card informing me that Daniel had gotten tickets to see Into the Woods when it's in town in October. Basically, I was the happiest woman on earth. Daniel's favorite part of this whole story is when I tell everyone that he had also spelled "Happy Birthday" in q-tips on the bed. If nothing else, he's creative.
I was so shocked! I had talked to him the night before and he had said that we would have to sit down and talk about the mountain bike...see if we could budget it in somehow. Little did I know that when I was picking out a helmet on Monday, he had gone and put the bike hold. Then, while I was gone, he went and paid for it. Apparently, we did have enough money for it...he was just tricking me. Silly boy. I fell for it.
Then, that night, we went to Rodizio Grill (where I had requested to go for my birthday dinner) and I was shocked to learn that he had invited all of our friends too! Honestly, if I had know he was inviting other people I would have picked a much less expensive restaurant! But as we sat there waiting for our table to be ready, in walked Randy. Then Mike and Tandi. Then Jessica and Brennan! I was shocked! Huzzah for the amazing husband, huh?
We had a great time at dinner, then went to Jessica and Brennan's to play Rock Band. And by that I mean the boys all played while Jessica and I talked about everything under the sun. Daniel and I didn't leave until 2am! This is not common for us, might I add. All in all, it was a spectacular birthday.
But now I'm back to real life, which kinda really bites. This is my last week of school til September, but that's only because we leave for Jackson Hole on Friday. So this week is going to be hellish as I work out taking finals, final papers, presentations, plus everything that I would normally be doing two weeks before the end of the term.
We're packing everything up in our apartment, and everything in his parents house. That's going to be the problem--his parents house. He's got EVERYTHING in that room of his. And you would think that he could have managed to pack it up before we got married...but that's far too logical. We're finally moving away and his brothers coming home from his mission so he HAS to move his stuff out. So add that to everything else. What fun!
I can't wait til we're in Jackson, though. It's going to be so wonderful to be back there. I'll get to be on the river everyday, getting skinny and sexy tan. And I'll get to see Daniel everyday, and we'll actually get to share every single meal together! That hasn't happened since last summer. Even though we live together, we say goodbye at six thirty in the morning and then I don't see him until at least six or seven at night. Later on some nights. So it will be glorious. I'm definitely my happiest in Jackson. That's where I met the love of my life after all...
Sorry about the long post. I'll try to keep it shorter next time.
So here I am: blogging. I've created this to keep everyone updated on what Daniel and I are up to. And because I'll be blogging, I will most likely be reading up on everyone else as well. Thus, I am making an effort to be a better correspondent. Wish me luck. I'm sure I'll get the hang of it eventually...right now I'm just lamenting the fact that I've become one of those people. I can't really call them those people anymore, can I? Now they are my people...
Regardless of what kind of people they are, or I am, I suppose my first update is in order.
Friday was my birthday, and what a glorious day it was too! It was full of wonderful surprises, all put together by the most amazing man in my life. (That's Daniel, in case no one got it...)
It all started on Monday when Daniel and I went to look at mountain bikes. We've recently decided that mountain biking a sport that Daniel loves and does quite well at, and one that I should start to love and excel in. That way we have something we can do together--other than burn gas going off-roading, which we've pretty much mastered. And it's a great way to do something healthy. So, we were considering getting a mountain bike for me.
So we went to a few different shops and got a few opinions from people who are supposedly experienced and people who actually are, until I test-rode a bike that I was pretty sure was "the one." Unfortunately, Daniel informed me that we did not have the money for the bike at the moment..."maybe after payday," he said. Alas, there was no purchasing of a bike. I did, however, purchase a helmet to take with me on my trip to Moab with my class (more on that later...)
So, the next day we went back to our normal, non-Memorial Day weekend lives and bored our minds out with work. I made my daily hour-long commute to Provo and dreamt of my bike that may or may not be mine.
Then, on Wednesday, I left for Moab for my Venturing Outdoor Leadership class. We drove down and hiked Delicate Arch on Wednesday (the license plate arch), went mountain biking (when I consecrated my new helmet), rock climbing, and rappelling on Thursday, then drove home on Friday. (Ok, I'll admit it. I didn't actually do the rock climbing and rappelling part. I did belay, however, which is quite an accomplishment for me. I just didn't want to subject the class to the sight of me being ill as I try to conquer the height. That's something I'll work on with just a few close friends, thank you!) When I got back to my apartment on Friday afternoon I lethargically wondered in and dumped my pack in the middle of the floor then proceeded to pull my sandy sleeping back out to air out. Then I flopped dramatically on the couch to call my husband and let him know I was home. "I'mdrivingI'llcallyouback," was all I got out of him. It's kind of against the rules for him to talk on the phone while he's got a school bus full of kids, so I don't blame him. So, then I meandered into the bathroom to relieve myself after several hours of driving, and then wandered into the bedroom. And this is part that I love to tell.
I walked into the room and standing next to the window was the beautiful bike I had picked out on Monday. It stood there in all its glory, with its not too flashy colors, its seat adjusted just right, and its tires still slightly muddy from my test ride on Monday. And sitting on the bedside table was a gorgeous bouquet of flowers, with all of my favorites: stargazers, oriental lilies, gerbers, calla lilies, and Daniel's favorite spider mums. It was bedecked with violet stock, and fern leaves (not the ones that sprinkle everywhere and drive me nuts, but the pretty ones), along with calla lily leaves. It was so colorful and vibrant--absolutely gorgeous. And he had gotten a cook book for me (which I love!) that has a picture for every recipe. That's my thing...I like to know if what I made looks right, so I want a picture for each recipe. He was so cute and remembered. I went through and marked all of the recipes I wanted to try first, and as I was flipping through I found a card informing me that Daniel had gotten tickets to see Into the Woods when it's in town in October. Basically, I was the happiest woman on earth. Daniel's favorite part of this whole story is when I tell everyone that he had also spelled "Happy Birthday" in q-tips on the bed. If nothing else, he's creative.
I was so shocked! I had talked to him the night before and he had said that we would have to sit down and talk about the mountain bike...see if we could budget it in somehow. Little did I know that when I was picking out a helmet on Monday, he had gone and put the bike hold. Then, while I was gone, he went and paid for it. Apparently, we did have enough money for it...he was just tricking me. Silly boy. I fell for it.
Then, that night, we went to Rodizio Grill (where I had requested to go for my birthday dinner) and I was shocked to learn that he had invited all of our friends too! Honestly, if I had know he was inviting other people I would have picked a much less expensive restaurant! But as we sat there waiting for our table to be ready, in walked Randy. Then Mike and Tandi. Then Jessica and Brennan! I was shocked! Huzzah for the amazing husband, huh?
We had a great time at dinner, then went to Jessica and Brennan's to play Rock Band. And by that I mean the boys all played while Jessica and I talked about everything under the sun. Daniel and I didn't leave until 2am! This is not common for us, might I add. All in all, it was a spectacular birthday.
But now I'm back to real life, which kinda really bites. This is my last week of school til September, but that's only because we leave for Jackson Hole on Friday. So this week is going to be hellish as I work out taking finals, final papers, presentations, plus everything that I would normally be doing two weeks before the end of the term.
We're packing everything up in our apartment, and everything in his parents house. That's going to be the problem--his parents house. He's got EVERYTHING in that room of his. And you would think that he could have managed to pack it up before we got married...but that's far too logical. We're finally moving away and his brothers coming home from his mission so he HAS to move his stuff out. So add that to everything else. What fun!
I can't wait til we're in Jackson, though. It's going to be so wonderful to be back there. I'll get to be on the river everyday, getting skinny and sexy tan. And I'll get to see Daniel everyday, and we'll actually get to share every single meal together! That hasn't happened since last summer. Even though we live together, we say goodbye at six thirty in the morning and then I don't see him until at least six or seven at night. Later on some nights. So it will be glorious. I'm definitely my happiest in Jackson. That's where I met the love of my life after all...
Sorry about the long post. I'll try to keep it shorter next time.
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