Tuesday, March 31, 2009

Mop Bucket Take 2

Yep...the mop bucket struck again. Yesterday. I didn't get to my medicine in time. I didn't pass out. I didn't end up in the ER. But I did get cozy with the mop bucket. And I did end up in the doctor's office. Once it starts it doesn't stop without some kind of intervention. Yesterday's intervention was a big, fat shot right in the hip. It worked.
Today I have a hangover of sorts. But I'm thinking it is nothing compared to this man's hangover:

Man Charged With Drunk Driving On Bar Stool

NEWARK, Ohio - Authorities in Ohio say a man has been charged with drunken driving after crashing his motorized bar stool.
Police in Newark, 30 miles east of Columbus, say when they responded to a report of a crash with injuries on March 4, they found a man who had wrecked a bar stool powered by a deconstructed lawn mower.
Twenty-eight-year Kile Wygle was hospitalized for minor injuries.
Police say he was charged with operating a vehicle while intoxicated after he told an officer at the hospital that he had consumed 15 beers.
Wygle told police his motorized bar stool can go up to 38 mph.
Wygle has pleaded not guilty and has requested a jury trial.

Go here for a full report...and pictures!!!

I'm going to have to come up with a Plan B for my life...this mop bucket stuff and I aren't going to get along...at all. Plan B will involve NO mop buckets, nor medicine that gives me a permanent headache. I'll get right to work on it.

Sunday, March 29, 2009

Saturday Is A Special Day

A photographer I am not.

A mountain climber I am.

In my defense, it was cloudy all day and the 5 minutes it was semi-clear, I took this picture.

I called Dad yesterday and said, "Let's go hiking."

Dad said, "Okay, but let's eat first."

We met at Subway and we contemplated where we would hike.

"We need to climb a peak," Dad said.

And we looked out the window and sighed. The peaks were covered with snow.

The peak in the picture: not so much snow, as you can clearly see.

"Want to climb to the top?" Dad asked.

"Okay, is there a trail?"

"Nope, we go up. Straight up."

"Okay," I said, "let's go."

And we did.

Straight up, and up, and up, and up.

The picture doesn't do the words 'straight up' any justice.

You know in The Man From Snowy River when Daniel Craig rides his horse down the mountain, the very steep mountain, and his uncle says, "He's not a boy brother, he's a man. The man from Snowy River?" It was that kind of steep.


There was a deer trail. My brother pointed out that Dad and I are not deer.

I said things like, "dangerous, steep, we're never going to get there, if I fall I'll try to not break my neck, if you fall Mom is going to kill me, ouch, I'm stuck, let's turn back for self-preservation, where do I put my foot now? How the HECK are we going to get back down?..."

Dad said things like, "what's the name of this plant? What's the scientific name of this plant? Did you see that deer? Did you see that little animal that just ran by? Be careful, it's muddy here, we can't back down on a challenge, watch out for that patch of snow, we'll worry about getting down once we get to the top..."

Dad climbed that mountain like maybe he was a deer.
The mountain and I became one as I had to sometimes use my hands and knees to pull myself up.

Climbing the rock slides was fun.

The top, which actually wasn't the top, go figure, was beautiful and surprisingly meadowish. We hung out there for a while and enjoyed the view.

And then we went back down - trying to follow the deer trails.

Sometimes we just slid with the mud and rocks. Sometimes we slid on our backsides, (okay I did, Dad never did), and one time I said, "Where do we go now?" and Dad said, "I just saw a deer go this way, it must be okay."

After an eternity of going straight down I looked at the path in front of me and sat down and said, "Oh my H - E." (I try not to swear, but when there is a really strong need, and sometimes there just is, I spell the word instead of say it. And I usually leave out a letter, because if you don't spell the whole word it's not as bad.)

So...I said "Oh my H - E" and then I said, "Sorry Dad." (He is the bishop after all.)

He said, "Why are you sorry?"

And I said, "Because you just heard me spell half a swear word."

And he laughed and said, "At least it was only half."

We made it down the mountain.

I had blisters.

But you know what?

I can't even complain about the blisters I have because you should see the blisters the Dentist has.

He and his friend ran a 50 mile race yesterday.

I'll take my mountain any day.

Friday, March 27, 2009

Welcome, to my friend Lewie

My friend Lewie sent me the following email: (I told her I would post it word for word)

* * * * * * * *

If I had a blog, this is what I would write about today...

Why do people feel the need to talk on their cell phones in a public bathroom?

As the person in the next stall, it makes me want to flush 5 or 6 times just to make the person on the other end of the call wonder what is going on.

What'd ya say "excuse me while I flush?"

Or do you mute while it's not your turn to talk?

I don't get it.

Finish your business & then call them back!

Plus, it's disgusting!


* * * * * * * *

There you go Lewie...thanks for that great post!

But while we're on the subject, let me say this:

Want to know what I think is worse than talking on your phone in the bathroom? It's taking food with you into the bathroom...especially a public bathroom.

Last weekend I went to a movie with my sisters. The local theatre was giving out ginormous buckets for free. And for the entire year you can take this ginormous bucket with you to the movie and get a refill of popcorn for only a dollar! Who could resist such an offer?

But must you carry that ginormous bucket full of popcorn with you INTO the bathroom, and then worse, INTO the stall? Disgusting, as Lewie would say.

I get it...maybe...if you are all alone at the movie theatre and there is no one to hold the popcorn for you. But most people in the world go to the movie with someone. How bout you get that someone to hold the popcorn bucket for you...

I would sleep better at night if you did!

Anyone else have a pressing issue they would like to post on my blog?

Thursday, March 26, 2009

Ode To NYC

Okay, if we look up ode in the dictionary this might not technically be an ode. But it's something...

11 years ago today I came home from my mission.

I flew home with some of my favorite people.

I thought all night long about what my ode would say. Really, I did. I couldn't sleep.

The other day when I was best friends with the mop bucket, I said this to the ER doctor: "I'm sure I look so feminine, dainty, and appealing." The ER doctor said, "What?" and my mom laughed. 11 years later and I'm still quoting Elder Noble. (He used that line a lot.) I would for sure use that in my ode.

What else?

I would mention Mr. Thompson and Me in my ode.

She was a great companion, and she is a great friend!

One time we went tracting and it was her turn to talk. She was used to doing the door approach in Spanish and had a temporary lapse in her memory of the English language.

"How are you today?" she asked the girl who answered.

The girl said she was fine.

"Good. So...how are you?" she asked the girl again.

Amazingly the girl was still doing well.

"So...how's your day going?"

At that point I stepped in and said, "Hi, we're the missionaries who can't think of anything to say." Okay, I really didn't say that, but I did step in and help the poor girl out.

Let's see...what else goes in an ode.

I'm sure my ode would mention Elder Esquibel somehow. He was one of my best friends.

Except for that time when he used my first name in a talk he gave in mission conference. "I want to thank Noelle for being such a good friend." Want to know what my mission president said to me after that? "Sister Platt, is there something you're not telling me?" Thanks Shane.

My ode would probably talk about the time we got locked in a guys bedroom.

Don't ask.

When he said, "You don't have to be afraid,"

my companion said,

"We're not. We know karate."

He believed her.

I could put a lot of stuff in this ode. I laughed all night long at the memories.

I like to tell people that I grew up in Brooklyn...because in a way I did.

My ode would probably end with something about how once you've lived in NYC, it gets in your blood and never really leaves. That's not a bad thing.

Wednesday, March 25, 2009

What My Blog Has To Say

It seems I'm always writing about what I want to say and not what my blog wants to say. Today I'm changing that. Blog, it's all about YOU! The floor is yours.

Dear Readers,

THANK YOU for reading me!

THANK YOU for posting comments in my comment section. You would think that after being in existence for many months now I would get used to being alone when there are no comments. Sadly, I'm extremely lonely when the comment section is empty. Sometimes when I see that Mr. Woolley is about to comment I cringe a bit wondering what he might have to say, but I'm always so happy when people comment!

THANK YOU, THANK YOU for being a follower of me!!! This week was like Christmas because my follower count went from 11 to 16! If you want to make me the happiest little blog in the world, just become a follower. I promise I won't try to lead you astray, I won't make you do anything, except hopefully laugh once in a while. (And to the newest follower...I think his name is Ben. I think your profile picture is so handsome and distinguished! I would love to get to know you better!)

On occasion I like to check out where my readers are from. There are some readers who live in states I've never even been in! I don't know who they are, or how they found out about me, but I just want to say welcome, and I hope you like it here!

I know I'm just a little blog, but I have big dreams. Someday I want to be a big blog, like cjane. Well...maybe not that big. The girl who usually writes this blog is somewhat limited in her abilities, but a blog can dream right?

It's time for me to go now. I have to go attend a blogging class on linking. I'm always trying to look for ways to improve.

THANK YOU again for reading me. I think tomorrow the person who usually writes this post is going to write something about cleaning out the refrigerator. Gross.

Tuesday, March 24, 2009

Lunch Time Humor

Once in a while we order lunch from The Pizza Factory. Because I'm lazy, I pay an extra dollar to have them deliver it. The Pizza Factory is almost literally a hop, skip, and a jump away from the nursery. If you hit the one light green it takes less than a minute to get from point A to point B. We're a half a block away from each other, on the same street. Do you get how close we are?

We had The Pizza Factory deliver lunch today. Along with lunch came the receipt. Along with the receipt came the driving directions:

Depart The Pizza Factory on W 400 N (West)
Turn RIGHT (North-West) onto US-89 (N State St)
Keep STRAIGHT onto US-89 (E State Rd)
Keep STRAIGHT onto US-89
Keep STRAIGHT onto US-89
Bear LEFT (North-West) onto US-89 (E Main St)
Keep STRAIGHT onto US-89
Turn RIGHT (North) onto US-89 (W State Rd)
Keep STRAIGHT onto US-89
Keep STRAIGHT onto US-89
Keep STRAIGHT onto US-89
At 535 N State St, stay on US-89 (W State St) (South-East)
Keep STRAIGHT onto US-89
Keep STRAIGHT onto US-89
Keep STRAIGHT onto US-89
Turn LEFT (East) onto US-89 (W Main St)
Keep STRAIGHT onto US-89
Bear RIGHT (South) onto US-89 (E State Rd)
Keep STRAIGHT onto US-89
Keep STRAIGHT onto US-89
Keep STRAIGHT onto US-89
Turn LEFT (East) onto W 400 N
Arrive The Pizza Factory

My driving directions would have been much simpler:

Just run this food across the street.
If you can't figure out how to get back, you need to look for a new job.

Monday, March 23, 2009

The Way It Is At Work

I have a desk and an office.

My brother has a desk and an office.

I try to keep my desk and office clean.

My brother tries less to keep his desk and office clean.

I have great pictures on my walls.

My brother has okay pictures on his walls.

I have cool pottery from Brazil, Mexico, and Guatemala in my office.

My brother has a tree's root system, branches broken off another tree, and hats in his office.

I have two extra chairs in my office.

My brother has two extra chairs in his office.

I meet with my sales people in my office.

My brother meets with his sales people in MY office.

Can you explain that to me?

I talk to my sales people.

My brother talks and talks and talks and talks and talks to his sales people.

I take 5 - 10 minutes with my sales people.

My brother takes 5 - 10 hours with his sales people.

I have a computer.

My brother has a computer.

I am using my brother's computer because at the moment he's talking and talking to his sales people...in MY office.

Again, can you explain this to me?

I'm going to go now and try to hack into his secret files...I have nothing else to do.

Thursday, March 19, 2009

On A Thursday Night...

This is a heat vent cover.

My dad has broken this heat vent cover THREE times. (Obviously not this exact one.)

He leans back in his chair, even when my mom says "Ed, DON'T lean back in that chair!"
(Dad only sits in one chair. And if you're sitting in his chair...move it or lose it.)

When he leans back just right, the leg of his chair goes right through the vent cover and we laugh. A lot. Because it serves him right really.

And then my brother-in-law goes to Home Depot and buys another vent cover.

We're not sure why Dad doesn't go to Home Depot.

Tonight my sisters and mom and I were just hanging out in the kitchen.

We were getting all the latest gossip about our baby sister's boyfriend.
(She's going to die when she reads this sentence.)

Dad walked in the door from a very productive meeting (it wasn't really but he's trying to have a good attitude) and the baby sister (who really isn't such a baby) said :

"Dear Dad, please stop breaking the heat vents. I almost died today."

Ha ha ha.

I wonder if that's what we'll all get if we sit in Dad's special chair.

Wednesday, March 18, 2009

Last Night It Occurred To Me

That I'm a pen snob. I was writing in my journal - I know, it's hard to believe that I would have more to write about than what I post here - and I was very upset with the pen I was using. It was a horrible pen. I've been known to use three or four different pens in one journal entry, trying to find the perfect fit. Don't worry, I explain it all to those in the future who will someday read my journal:

"Dear Reader, what do you think of this pen?"

"I didn't like the color so I changed pens."

"Didn't you think my handwriting was atrocious? Blame it on that last pen I was using."

Stuff like that...

But before I can say another thing about pens, I must say this:


Three days of raking and shoveling and weeding and moving plants will do that to a girl. Our crew...the hombres that usually do the aforementioned work, are stuck in Mexico. I'm sending a silent plea to the powers that be in the Department of Labor. PLEASE Mr. Men who have all power and let it go to their heads, just sign the visa papers already. Don't you appreciate, even a tiny little bit, that we do things the right way? Hope the silent plea works, because ... did I mention that I'm tired and could use a little help?

But back to pens.

I need a new one. I have a box FULL of pens that didn't pass the test. What is your favorite pen? Where did you buy it? What color is the ink? Is it medium or fine point? Usually, I prefer a medium point, but I'm willing to be swayed in another direction.

Tell you what I'll do. You give me a suggestion and I'll go buy the pen. I'll try it out, and the person whose pen I like the best...well, I'll dedicate a whole post just to you. Sounds tempting doesn't it?

I'm off now, to rest my weary body.

Tuesday, March 17, 2009


Are you familiar with the song "Where Have All The Flowers Gone?" Well, if you are or aren't, that's not what this post is about. I just want to know where logic went. What happened to common sense? Thankfully, I still have logic. I can prove it. Last night I took a portion of a practice GRE test (just for fun). I passed the logic section with flying colors!

Customer #1 who had no logic:

"This tag says 'plant perennial in full sun'. Does that mean I can't plant it in the morning when it's shady?"

Customer #2 who had no logic:

"This tag says that these strawberries can tolerate wet, heavy soil. I DON'T HAVE wet, heavy soil. (Caps added to imply the volume of her voice.) Where can I find some strawberries that can be planted in well-drained soil?"

But really, logic isn't what this post is about either. I just wanted to share...

Last night my dad and I went on our first hike of the season and it was delightful. We took it a little slow because of Dad's recent back surgery. (That's what we're telling Mom, because if she knew the truth she would ground us both from hiking. The doctor hasn't officially given Dad the okay to hike.)

Anyway...the part we're not telling Mom is that we went off the trail for a while. (Dad likes to follow the deer trails. Never mind the fact that they are straight up and we have to grab the Rabbit Brush to pull us up the mountain.) This early in the season I don't mind going off the trail. Later in the season, when there are sure to be ticks lurking about, I complain a bit more loudly when Dad says, "Let's see where this takes us", because that usually means under and through oak brush and other tick infested shrubbery.

While we were hiking we planned our hike schedule for the season. Yes, we have a hike schedule. It's the first time since Dad has been home from his mission (almost 2 years) that he is able to hike, and we're going to take advantage of it...because who knows how long we have before he and Mom go off and leave us for another mission.

Anyway...(I like that word) here's the hike schedule: (And you are more than welcome to join us.)

March-July - hike around here to get Dad's back muscles into shape, with one hike to the top of Mt. Nebo.

July - Take a backpacking trip to Red Castle in the Uintah Mountains.

August - Hike Timp

September - Hike around here some more

October - Rim to rim of the Grand Canyon (in a day, because who wants to carry a pack?)

December or January - fly to Mexico and hike Popocateptl (a volcano near Puebla) - this one is a bit tentative. Every time Dad plans to hike Popo it erupts. Here's hoping this is the year!

Have I mentioned that I MUCH PREFER hiking to a gym?

I'm rambling I know, but let me say this: Last night as we reached our goal destination, the 'G' on the side of the mountain above Pl. Grove, the sun was starting to set and the lights were coming on all over the valley. It was beautiful and it made my heart happy.

The End.

Monday, March 16, 2009

A Word of Caution

I thought I would take a break from my very busy day to tell you what's been on my mind:

Police said a man in Malaysia shot his neighbor as she picked sapodilla fruit in his tree, thinking she was a monkey.

Yep, that's what's been on my mind since yesterday when I read about this. I have a lot of unanswered questions.

Where does Mr. Malaysia's anger at monkeys stem from?
Is sapodilla fruit really worth dragging the gun out, loading it, etc.?
Why was the neighbor in the tree?
Is the tree really so leafy that Mr. Malaysia couldn't see that the person rustling the leaves was much larger than a monkey? (oh dear, that makes me think of another question)
Is the neighbor an abnormally small woman?
Why doesn't the neighbor have her own sapodilla fruit tree?
Was the neighbor locked out of her house and starving to death?

See...pressing questions that will never be answered.

For my own peace of mind will you all be ever so careful when you're out in the neighbor's apple/apricot/plum/pear tree picking their fruit?

I'm guessing...and it might be a stretch...but I'm guessing that if you are picking your neighbor's zucchini you're probably safe.

If you need me, I'll be outside raking. Because I like to rake. And the sun is shining.

Saturday, March 14, 2009

The Diagnosis

I'm alive.  I'm standing.  The world only spins once in a while.  My gun is still safely stored in its hiding place.  It's a good hiding place too.  The pink bucket has taken a temporary retirement. Personally, I prefer the the mop bucket, but once in a while we must defer to those taking care of us.  In this case: Nice Nurse.

I didn't get an ounce of claustrophobia during my MRI.  I'm beginning to wonder if my claustrophobia is not as real as I thought it was.  If I can survive an MRI maybe I could survive crawling through a cave.  And it's not that I have any intention of crawling through a cave, it's just that I have this recurring dream where I find myself having to crawl through a horrible cave to get to the top of a mountain.  And every time I dream about this cave I wake up scared to death. But after this MRI, I say bring the cave on.  I can handle it!

The MRI results show a normal, very healthy brain.  I know some of you had your doubts.  I guess we'll have to blame my bouts of forgetfulness and overall lack of smartness on genetics. Sorry Dad, I know you were hoping for another reason why I just don't understand algebra.  

After a lengthy visit with an ENT (Ear, Nose, Throat Specialist) it was determined that I might, maybe, possibly, could potentially, just happen to have what is called Meniere's Disease.  There is no conclusive diagnosis.  There is no test to prove this disease.  But some guy, whose last name happened to be Meniere, decided one day to lump a group of symptoms together and call it a disease.  Symptoms include: dizziness, nausea, pressure in the inner ear, etc.  According to the ENT I had the worst case scenario of all of the symptoms.  (I never do anything half way.)

There is no treatment, there is no cure, there are no warning signs, there is nothing I can or can't do to avoid further episodes.  Oh wait...there are two things: I could cut back on my caffeine intake, and I could reduce the amount of salt I eat.  There is no proof that either suggestion really works, but they think they might.  So if I don't drink caffeine, and I don't, except when I'm dizzy because the Coke syrup actually helps (interesting...) and I don't eat that much salt (well, my cousin says he's going to get rid of that salt lick I have in my office) I'm back at square one.  

I love square one.  I guess I'll just carry my anti-dizzy medicine with me all the time and hope that I can stop the dizziness before it turns into another "where the heck is my mop bucket" experience.  I'm pretty sure that big brother and cousin hope the medicine helps as well.  As for the salesman, I'm sure he's all, "Have I got a story for you!  The other day I was making this sales call and ... "   

Thank you all for your concern and love and laughs.  I appreciate it, I really do!!!  

And for those who are new to my blog, I promise there will be great stories next week that DON'T involve any buckets, pink, mop, or otherwise.  

Have a great weekend!

PS.  The ER doctor called me yesterday.  He just wanted to make sure my eyes were okay.  My eyes???  And he wanted to make sure I had been in to see an eye doctor.  What was that about him not being George Clooney???  I would even take Archie Morris over this guy.  

Wednesday, March 11, 2009

A Day in the Life of Me

7:00 - Alarm goes off.

7:01 - Turn alarm off and go back to sleep.

8:00 - Get out of bed and get ready for work.

9:00-10:30 - Get to work. Check email. Read a few blogs. Call people who owe me money, etc.

10:30 - Find Mom and whine to her about how I don't feel well, and that I feel really light headed.

11:00 - Call little sister and ask her to take me home.

11:15 - Mom comes and says she'll take me home.

11:17 - Make a mad dash to the bathroom and puke my guts out.

11:20 - Stand up to leave bathroom and fall to floor and pass out.

11:25 - Call Mom and she and big brother come and help me to my office where I fall to the floor and pass out again.

11:30 - 1:00 ish - Lay on office floor and moan. Move head even a fraction of an inch and puke. Keep head draped over mop bucket because that's the only way the world doesn't spin. Hope and pray that Mr. Salesman who is out talking to little brother can't hear me puking my guts out. Take pill (to stop the spinning) and puke it up 5 minutes later. Beg big brother to shoot me or to call 911. He does neither.

Mom goes to dry cleaner, because that's important. Mom calls family doctor and asks his opinion on what to do. Family doctor tells Mom to bring me in so they can give me medicine...except that I can't move my head, and if he does give me medicine I'm going to throw it up.

Dad comes and he and big brother give me a blessing. Big brother and cousin practically carry me and mop bucket to the car. Sudden movement makes me puke AGAIN.

Mom drives me to ER.

1:00-5:30 ish - Arrive at ER. Nice Nurse and Mom get me from car to wheelchair. Movement causes me to puke. Nice Nurse and other nice nurse get me to a bed. They can't lay me down because to put my head flat will cause me to puke again. Nice Nurse gives me a cute pink bucket because she doesn't like my mop bucket. Nice Nurse puts an IV in and I don't even feel it. Nice Nurse tells me I'm going to hyperventilate if I can't control my breathing. Effort to control breathing causes me to puke. Nice Nurse gets an elastic to hold my hair back.

ER doctor comes in. ER doctor is no George Clooney or Dr. Green. ER doctor tells Mom and Dad to leave room because he has to ask me some sensitive questions. I tell Mom and Dad they can stay. No, I'm not pregnant, and no I don't do drugs or drink. ER doctor tells Nice Nurse to give me medicine to control puking. She puts it through the IV. It doesn't help. ER doctor comes in later to ask me more questions.

Doctor: "How long has ...?"

Me : "Umm..." and then I puke. Because movement even to talk does that to me.

Doctor: "Can you tell me what..."

Me: "Umm..." puke some more.

Doctor: "What about...?"

Me: "Umm..." puke.

Doctor: "Nice Nurse the medicine doesn't seem to be working. Can you give her some more?"

Nice Nurse does, and then she gives me Valium, and attaches the second bag of saline solution, and then I pass out from all of the drugs.

Sometime later I hear Doctor say, "I'm thinking that we're going to have to send her to another hospital and admit her. We can't control her symptoms."

Me thinking, "I have a gun. I'd let you borrow it just this once."

FINALLY, medicine starts to take effect. Doctor wants me to get up and walk around. Mom says to doctor, "Why don't you give her the anti-dizziness pills first before she tries to walk." Doctor says, "That's a good idea." Nice Nurse gives me medicine and then I sleep some more.

Nice Nurse takes me for a walk around the ER. I don't fall over or pass out. That's a good sign. I go back to bed and fall asleep. Later Nice Nurse gives me more anti-dizziness medicine and then has me walk around again. Nice Nurse says, "Mom, don't let her walk by herself. She's not too steady."

Finally I'm coherent enough to notice that Nice Nurse put an ELASTIC in my hair. Does Nice Nurse not know the damage elastics do to hair? Mom reminds me, "Dear, you're in the ER. Let's prioritize a bit." Then I notice that I have mascara streaked across my face. "Why didn't you tell me I had makeup all over?" I ask Mom. Nice Nurse points out, "Honey, you were face first in a mop bucket. Do you think we care about mascara?" Good point. Some day I want to be as wise as Mom and Nice Nurse.

Doctor comes in and says, "It's up to you. We can admit you or you can go home and go to other hospital if symptoms return." I say to Nice Nurse, "What would you do?" She says, "Go home." Nice Nurse pushes me in wheelchair to car and I go to Mom's house.

Lay on couch and pass out until this morning and notice that for once the world is not spinning.

And because I'm so lucky, tomorrow I get to go and get an MRI because Doctor wants to rule out any brain tumor or other such nonsense, and then after the MRI I am going to go and see an Ear Nose Throat specialist to try and figure out what the heck is wrong with me. Because there is something wrong. Being this attached to a mop bucket is not normal.

Anyone want to trade me places?

PS. Turns out the salesman did hear me puking.

Monday, March 9, 2009

Put Your Party Hats On!

Today is a day of celebration!!! I'm so excited about all of the festivities that are taking place! And because I love all of you and want you to share in my excitement, I'm going to let you in on what is happening today!

At sundown today PURIM begins! Isn't that wonderful??? For those few who might not know what Purim is I'll tell you. PURIM is the most festive of Jewish holidays, a time of prizes, noisemakers, costumes and treats. The Festival of Purim commemorates a major victory over oppression and is recounted in the Megillah, the scroll of the story of Esther. Purim takes place on the fourteenth and fifteenth days of Adar, the twelfth month of the Jewish calendar.

Let's be honest, don't we all need a break from oppression? I was wondering how I was going to make it through work today, but now because of this cause to celebrate, the day won't last long enough!

Oh...and one more GREAT things. Read this! Did you know that Purim is one of the most joyous holidays in the Jewish religion? So joyous, in fact, that the rabbis have actually commanded adults to get drunk on the holiday of Purim.

"But Bishop, the rabbi said that it was okay!" I'm still trying to decide if that would fly.


Today is also CANBERRA DAY! Canberra Day commemorates the official birth of the federal capital of Australia . On march 12th.1913 the foundation stone was laid on the Capitol Hill and the Govenor-General's wife announced that the city would be named Canberra." This is how Canberra day originated.

I feel a great connection to this lovely country. After all, that's where my mission president lives, and where my sister-in-law's parents served a mission, AND where my once-upon-a-time true love served his mission. (Obviously that didn't work out, but I have some great pictures of the country!)

And just in case anyone wants to know: (The Australian national anthem)

Australians all let us rejoice, For we are young and free; We've golden soil and wealth for toil, Our home is girt by sea. Our land abounds in Nature's gifts Of beauty rich and rare; In hist'ry's page, let ev'ry stage Advance Australia fair. In joyful strains then let us sing, "Advance Australia Fair." Beneath our radiant Southern Cross We'll toil with hearts and hands; To make this Commonwealth of ours Renowned of all the lands; For those who've come across the seas We've boundless plains to share; With courage let us all combine To Advance Australia fair. In joyful strains then let us sing, "Advance Australia Fair."

You can guess what I'll be singing all day! To a made up tune of course because hey, I'm not that smart!

It's going to be a great day!

Thursday, March 5, 2009

Do you ever...

Wake up in the middle of the night because you're so hungry you could just cry?

I do. To some, 4 a.m. is not the middle of the night, but to yours truly, it might as well be.

At 4 a.m. I was thinking about oatmeal and a bagel with my grandma's homemade rhubarb jam.

I wonder if my hunger had something to do with my dream.

I was playing hide and seek.

For hours it seemed.

With a bunch of grown ups.

And I was running around a lot.

And I was hiding in a gym locker trying not to breath loudly.

After a while I got tired of running and hiding and I wondered how long the game would last.

And then I realized it was a dream and so I woke up.

But then I was hungry.

And now I'm tired ... and hungry again.

Man, it's been a long day.

Wednesday, March 4, 2009

Happy Wednesday

What I love about Spring:



the smell of burning weeds

the cool but warm air

the sun

the mountains turning green

going for walks

and onions

(okay, not really onions)

Tuesday, March 3, 2009

Beauty and the Beast

But not so much beauty as ... well, NOT beauty!

My sister and I frequent the local rec center. It's fairly new and has a lot of equipment. We run to our playlists of choice (usually Latin music) and dream of someday running along the beach like Robin Wright Penn does in Message in a Bottle.

One of our favorite machines is what we call 'The Beast.' It's the mother of all stair steppers and after 15 minutes I feel like I've run a marathon. It's great, and we often fight over who gets to use it first. (Because if we don't use it before the rest of our workout, there's a good chance we'll not have enough energy to climb onto the beast, let alone use it.)

We could be considered regulars...and we've learned to recognize other regulars. There is a lady who is there, faithfully, every night, walking her little heart out around the track. She's our hero. There is the kid in the weight room who gives my sister the creeps. There are others too, but the one I want to talk about is someone we call simply 'Gross Man.' (This is where beauty does NOT apply.)

Gross Man is old, over-weight, and very very sweaty. I give Gross Man props for going to the gym and working out. What I don't give Gross Man props for is his attire. He wears the tiniest little shorts and well...it's just too much.

Last night Gross Man was on The Beast. We figured we'd start in the weight room and give Gross Man plenty of time to finish his workout. Gross Man was still on The Beast when we finished with our weight routine. We stood near The Beast, trying to decide what other machines to use, when we noticed that the ceiling must have sprung a leak right over The Beast. Really, there was that much water.

On closer inspection however, we found that the water was not water at all, but SWEAT pouring off of Gross Man. The Beast was covered with puddles of sweat. Oh...it turns my stomach to even think of it. The floor around The Beast was wet. There should have been a "Caution: Wet Floor" sign around The Beast. The rec. center doesn't really need to build that pool if Gross Man sticks around. Yes, it's that bad.

Even if Gross Man used ALL of the towels and disinfectant spray to clean up after himself, I'm not sure that I'd ever be able to use The Beast again. As I was leaving I noticed another regular user of The Beast using it. I wanted to shout to her and tell her that The Beast was infected, but I decided that for her, ignorance could be bliss.

I'm going to have to find a new place to work out. Ugg...

Monday, March 2, 2009

I'm Just Thinking...

That if someday I can't have a kid as cute as this one...

Well, what's the point?