Don't Step on a Crack

I don't have many OCD tendencies. I don't have any germ phobias or clean freakiness going on. When I was little though, I almost went into cardiac arrest if I stepped on a crack. Not because I believed the silly saying that I would break my mother's back, but because I was pretty sure the Goosebump movie about giant earth worms existing was factual. I knew the second I stepped on a crack, a giant earth worm was going to plot its revenge against me. It likely wouldn't take me in broad daylight, but it would slowly tally up the number of times I stepped on a crack. It would wait until I was alone at sunset, use its monstrous body to burst through the earth and drag me down into one of its unending tunnels of misery. It would then review the number of times I had stepped on a crack and take a bite out of my tiny body for every careless footfall. The more times I had stepped on cracks, the more painful and slow my death by earth worm would be.
Now that I am wiser, I have now come up with a new version of this saying. "Don't single handedly break every piece of technology in Watson or you will break your tailbone" Instead of explaining exactly what I mean by this saying, I am going to need to give you some background information. There is a rare, but very real curse given to those in the human race who are truly brilliant. This curse prevents the brilliant from taking over the universe in a matter of days and leaving the human population reeling. The curse is given in the form of a technology allergen. It keeps those who could progress technology far beyond what has currently reached by preventing them from using any modern forms of technology. The allergen causes the following symptoms: computers to crash or emit high pitched noises, scanners to malfunction, cars to destruct, blenders to produce poison, television sets to inexplicably break, cell phones to run away from the owner or break recently after purchase, and garage door openers to somehow open every other garage door on the block except your own. I am a victim of this allergen. That, or my parents aren't telling me I am part robot. OR they aren't telling me I am an alien from another planet and my biological parents are trying to contact me via Earth technology which is far inferior to my planet's technology causing any form of technology they are trying to use to malfunction.
My technology allergen has been beneficial in a few ways. It usually means I don't have to do as much for group projects because everyone is afraid I will destruct weeks of work with the single graze of my finger. It has also helped me make friends with IT people. Yesterday, I spent a lovely hour or so with my IT friend trying to fix the scanner I broke. The following comment from him is the inspiration for this post.

Me: (on the phone) Hi IT friend! Are you busy right now?

Friend: Your computer crashed again?

Me: No. I maybe broke the NDA scanner...

Friend: Be there in five.

Friend: (In NDA room) This is so peculiar. I have never seen an error like this before

Me: Yeah...I don't know what I did. I didn't push any buttons I don't normally use...

Friend: You know what I just noticed? We seem to encounter the most abnormal IT problems when you are here.

Me: Really? Oh...well. That's weird.

Except it's not actually weird cause it has been happening my whole life. This is the first time an IT person verbally acknowledged my abnormality though. This then helped me look back on last summer when my other IT friend was constantly at my desk trying to patch up my most recent technological genocide. This IT friend is an adventurous soul and also very kind. One day after he had spent about an hour re-repairing my computer, he goes "Hey, so we are going skydiving on Saturday and I signed you up to come too". What was I supposed to say? "Gee, no. Sorry you've likely spent about thirty hours recessitating my technology victims, but no". I also thought it might be fun. It really was fun, until my instructor and I crash landed breaking my tail bone and three of his vertebrae. Why exactly we landed the way we did is still a bit of a mystery, but I am pretty sure it was "The Revenge of Technology" on its predator and innocent bystanding instructor. My greatest fear now is wondering what "The Revenge of Technology" sequel will hold...:)

L

The Uprise of Homelessness

Home is where the heart is, right? Wrong according to recent information acquired by one of our top reporters, Elle Gink. On Tuesday of this week, one of our reporters followed a BYU student to the DMV to get the real story on what it means to be homeless in Utah. The female student (who wishes to remain unnamed in this post for fear the DMV will come after her and further destroy her happiness) has been living in Utah for the past three years attending BYU during the school year and working a pharmaceutical internship at Research Park during the summers. She recently turned 21, causing her Michigan driver's license to expire. Her attempts to get a Utah driver's license are what alerts us today to the uprising of the homeless in Utah. Below is an exclusive interview Elle had with our student revealing what it really means to be a Utah Bum (caps added for respect to this position).

Elle: So, Student, can you briefly tell us how you first became homeless?

Student: Well, it all started when I moved back to Utah for school.

Elle: Sorry, you say you moved back? You've lived in Utah before?

Student: Yes, I actually lived in Utah from the time I was one until I finished sixth grade. My family had to move due to the heightened awareness of how freaking awesome my family was (still is) and we were forced to move to a remote area (Kansas) to avoid the issues that usually accompany intense fame.

Elle: Talking to you now and having just met your family, I completely understand why that was necessary. I can't believe Utah is being so ridiculous when you are actually a native to it. Anyway, back to your tragic homeless story. Please continue.

Student: Well, my family had to move to Michigan three years later after our fame reached a frightening peak in Kansas. I turned 16 while we were living in Michigan and passed my drivers test with flying colors.

Elle: I actually have here that you failed it miserably the first time. Let me see here..yes it says you failed and then bawled in the middle of the parking lot furthering your title of "loser"

Student: That was someone else with my same name. It is really crazy how often the mix up happens. BYU even mails me her grades sometimes which would absolutely crush my morale were I her. Poor thing.

Elle: So you acquired a Michigan license and then what?

Student: Well, I finished up high school and decided to return to the state I had always felt was home. A lot of my wonderful family is here. The mountains are here. The most handsome man in the world is here. There is convienently a good school here too. I came back to the place my heart was.

Elle: (wipes a tear off her face) Wow. That's beautiful. If you love Utah so much, why doesn't it seem to love you?

Student: I really don't know. It has been such a crazy process trying to prove my love to Utah. I think the real issue isn't the state of Utah, but the Utah DMV.

Elle: Yeah. I have heard some not so nice things lately about how ridiculous the DMV is.

Student: That doesn't suprise me. I went in last Tuesday to try and prove I was worthy of a Utah's love. They require an extensive amount of documents, which I provided. The real issue centers on the fact that I live in an abandoned covered wagon from the 70's under an underpass.

Elle: There made covered wagons in the 70's?

Student: Yeah, it's a 1872 Original Mormon Pioneer Stationary Wagon. Hasn't moved anywhere for over an hundred years.

Elle: Well, that sounds pleasant. So the DMV didn't consider the three years you have lived within its borders valid?

Student: That's right. Since I have switched addresses every couple of months and BYU neglected to put my address on my transcript, I technically am an illegal alien according to Utah.

Elle: Here is the thing I am confused about. A majority of BYU students are from out of state. How are they able to legally drive in Utah?

Student: I had been wondering the very same thing for awhile, but then I realized something. My parents moved to Ohio for the same reason my family has had to move in the past.

Elle: Aw, their fame started catching up to them again?

Student: Exactly. Anyway, most students keep their out of state licenses because their parents still live in the state it is issued from. There parents aren't too amazing to stay in one state longer than a few years. Other students are also more loved than I am and are without a constant black cloud of tragedy following them everywhere.

Elle: That makes sense now. Our sources have also revealed your charming fiance helped bring a little sunshine to your gray back drop of luck.

Student: (giant smile breaks across her face) Yeah. He really is the best. He brought me beautiful flowers and wrote "Stick it to the DMV" on the attached card. He also brought me one of my favorite treats-a whole plastic carton of bell peppers.

Elle: What a catch! I wish my fiance was as fantastic as that. He is unnaturally obsessed with scrapbooking and never has time to pay attention to me. Now, how does your homelessness effect your relationship with your fiance?

Student: Well, I know it sounds corny, but Sel (student's fiance) is kind of my home. The saying "home is where the heart is" helps me describe it. Sel has been exploring options for medical school and is considering cardiology. He preformed open heart surgery on me a few weeks ago. He removed my heart and surgically implanted a newt's heart in my chest cavity. So he literally has my heart. In a glass jar full of formaldyhyde. On his bedside table.

Elle: How romantic! Two star crossed lovers! A homeless girl with a newt's heart and a brilliant, flower giving, sunshine bringing heart surgeon.

Well there you have it. An interview revealing the serious issues at hand with Utah homelessness. Should you read this and want to help, please mail the following to our office:

Cash

A Utah Driver's License

New Colorful Socks

Mr. & Mrs. L Chromosome Donors (currently residing in Ohio)

Lello (L's Twin Sister)

Cash

Raspberries

Cash

Help a homeless person out today. Donate now.

Your Perfect Run

Step One: Pray for an Exceptionally Rainy Week.

Step Two: Make Sure it Looks Like This (see Figure 1. ) Before You Head Out the Door

(Figure 1.)

Step Three: Go To Shoreline Trail

Step Four: Sprint Up This Hill. (Note: You will encounter 12-15 steep, muddy inclines. Please consult your pansy meter before beginning any form of hill running)

Step Five: Run Ten Glorious Miles

Step Six: Admire Your No Longer Virgin Shoes.

(Note: Upon returning to your residance, be aware of where you place your shoes. If you have a puppy who keeps eating your favorite socks and taking your shoes, then you should take extreme caution in shoe placement)

Let's Hear it For the Boy!

I am spoiled. I have pretty much been spoiled my entire life. Mrs. Peacock & Mr. Green (in the conservatory with the revolver) spoil me. My extended family spoils me. My future in-laws spoil me. My friends spoil me. My rogue godfather currently evading dementors spoils me. Sel, however, takes it to a whole new level. This morning I woke up and smelled something horrificly rotten. After mentally accusing Matt of not bathing, I suddenly realized it was me. Sel has officially spoiled me rotten. This is Sel getting the call this morning that I was being admitted to the hospital with a bad case of Spoilitosis.

He was slightly overwhelmed by it.

The doctors have been doing some pretty extensive tests and they suspect my Spoilitosis took a turn for the worst starting on May 11, 2011. What happened on May 11, 2011? Well, that was the day Sel picked me up from there airport. As I rounded a corner, there was Sel. Looking handsome and holding the most beautiful boquet of flowers I have ever seen.

Aren't they gorgeous? He then proceeded to carry all my luggage to the car and present me with this tasty birthday cake.

(This is actually the ice cream cake Sel and I made for Kit's birthday. Kit has recently decided to join the Jewish religion and we felt it appropriate to make her a multi-purpose celebration cake...actually theses are her initials. Of course the letter candy package I got didn't have enough to spell her full name)

Sel also gave me a birthday present of pure joy: colorful socks and something to help me take all the credits I want to before I graduate. You may be asking yourself right now, "Oh. My. Goodness. Is that the HP time turner?" Are you understanding a bit more now why I have contracted Spoilitosis? You know what the crazy thing is? My Spoilitosis has progressed rapidly in the past two weeks. The doctors think this Saturday was the last thing my body could take before it was completely overwhelmed. As mentioned, I have been training for a marathon. This last Saturday was my day to do 20 big, fat miles. D-Wise started the spoiling process by buying me a runner's survival pack. I got Gu galore, two pairs of anti-blister socks (so I could mismatch them), a muscle roller, Energy Gushers and Jelly Beans. She also called a couple of her marathoner friends to ask for advice on good running routes. Some of her sweet friends decided to run/bike (my new friend Lisa has a stress fracture in her foot) with me for the last ten miles. My other new running buddies, Nate and Emily had to leave for SLC at 9:15AM which meant I had to get in ten miles before meeting up with them and Royal Whiz at 7:30AM. Guess who decided to wake up at 5:45AM with me and bike the entire course? Yup, it was Sel. Sel got up before the sun with me and was cheerful, enthusiastic, and SO helpful. He gathered all the Gu and water into the little bike basket and spent the whole 3 hours and 18 minutes cheering me on, throwing me water, helping me choke down the nasty energy packets, and spoiling me rotten. My body and will power began to decline at mile 18, but Sel kept me going. He rode faithfully alongside of me telling me encouraging things and he even played "Eye of the Tiger" on Royale Whiz's iphone for the last half mile. You would think sacrificing an opportunity to sleep in, riding around on an uncomforable bike, and spending three hours doing everything possible to make sure I didn't die would be where Sel's selflessness ended. Guess what? It didn't. The second we were done, D-Wise, Royale Whiz, Sel and I ran to the gas station to get some Powerade for my muscles. When we got back, Sel filled the bath with cold water and carried a bunch of ice up the stairs to pour in there. He held my shoulders while I shivered away and put ice on my quads for me. Sel then rubbed down my muscles with the roller D-Wise got for us and icy hot for just over an hour. Sel didn't think about himself for a straight seven hours. Sel usually doesn't think about himself. He is always trying to spoil me in some way. The doctors are pretty sure my Spoilitosis is going to be a chronic condition due to Sel being such a powerful source of Spoilitosis. Turns out all of the doctors, nurses and patients have been trying to contract Sel Spoilitosis without success and were plotting up grandeur schemes to catch some strand of it before I left the hospital. Poor things. Knowing Sel's tendancy to overwhelm vast numbers of people with Spoilitosis, I am not too worried for everyone else. I am sure Sel Spoilitosis will just increase in epidemic nature in the years to come.

Party of the Century Updates

My wonderful mother took the forever long journey to Salt Lake (cause she loves me) this last weekend to help my find a wedding dress and help Sel and I get everything else in order for the party of the century. My mom denies it now, but she was not looking forward to two fun filled days of shopping with world's worst shopper. I despise shopping. I hate the idea of spending money on clothes when I could actually be running with a fig leaf or two through the mountainous terrain. If you live in the mountains and also have magical powers to keep warm and be bug resistant, you don't need clothes. SO. This is where I announce Sel and I's decision to move to the mountains and live off the sweet berries of the earth. Either that, or we are joining an Amish community so we don't have to worry about clothes or murdering anything electronic with a simple touch of my cursed hands. Amish Paradise, here we come.

Anyway, back to the gown and my sweet mother (and Kit who ended up driving us all over and helped me get in and out of far too many dresses). I don't know what I was happier about, finding a dress or having the day not end in its typical shopping disaster. At our third bridal store, Emporium, our triplet gang of "Say Yes to the Dress" was instructed to look at some of the samples while the consultant went and pulled some dresses for me. My mom and I found this one sample we both thought was pretty snazzy and asked the consultant to pull it when she got back. To our disappointment, she said the sample was the only dress they had. My dismay must have been too much for her poor heart to stand cause she then asked if I wanted to try the sample on. As she stripped the poor mannequin, she told me the likelihood of it fitting well was slim because it was a sample, but that I could easily get it altered. Kit came in to help me zip it up and then we made our grand entrance to the giant mirrors. My madre got a bit teary eyed and I got a bit happy. We called Poptart to tell him we finally found it and he didn't even flinch when we told him the price. I won't tell you the price cause it makes me sick to think about it and you will judge me for letting my sweet mother spend so much on a frock I will only wear a few times. Just know it is worth it *(if it isn't, I am pretending it is anyway). My favorite part of the day was when the designer came on the floor (which is apparently very rare). The consultant had been so amazed that the sample fit perfectly (apparently this is also very rare) and had to inform the ascot wearing designer the only sample he had of that dress wanted to walk out of the door with me. He waxed poetic for at least a half and hour about the art of my dress and weddings in general while poking and prodding me. I stood uncomfortably on the little pedestal while Kit, Madre, 3 consultants, random man, and the designer stared at me under the bright lights for what felt like forever. Finally, the three of us were gloriously released to the outside, non-wedding dress world.

For all you non-male readers out there (as I know this will bore everyone but the female population), I will now give a detailed update on all Madre, Sel, Kit and I have completed for August 12.

Wedding dress: it's beautiful! It has Alencon lace with a bubble ruffle hem, a modified sweetheart neckline, crossover petal sleeve and chapel train. It is certainly a bit different than what I thought I wanted, but the reality is I was never exactly sure what I wanted in the first place

Flowers: Zoo bouquet: Monkey tails, kangaroo paws, one gigantic sunflower, billy balls, burnt orange and chartreuse spider mums, purple stock, and a hamster dyed plum with a bow around its neck and a little flower in his mouth. We also picked all of the wedding party flowers and centerpieces.

Decorations: Plum and ivory table clothes with olive chair ties. A giant floating sunflower above purple gem like things as centerpieces. The reception center is stunning! It was built in 1901 as an LDS chapel and has very Victorian era feel to it. We are in the Tuscan styled garden room and it is fantastic! I think Sel and I's favorite part was the twinkling lil Christmas lights strung along the pillars and ceiling arches. The garden is chock full of gorgeous flowers and trees and a fun fountain.

Cake: Bottom layer= chocolate with Bavarian cream filling. Middle layer=carrot cake with cream cheese filling. Top layer=marble with chocolate filling. Butter cream frosting all over cause fondant tastes n-a-s-t-y.

Menu: Orange Sesame Chicken Lollipops

Fresh Tomato Basil Bruschetta

Club,Turkey Cranberry, Roast Beef and Cheddar with Horseradish, Pastrami and Swiss, Ham and Gouda Petite Sandwiches

Imported and Domestic Cheese Display

Seasonal Fresh Fruit Display
Homemade Oreos and Chocolate Chip Cookies with Milk Shots (isn't that SO cool. You get your own shot glass of milk to dip your cookie in. Genius.)

Extraordinarily Tasty Wedding Cake

Luncheon: Joseph Smith Memorial. Wasatch Room. Still looking over a menu for this one, but we have had it booked for weeks now thanks to D-Wise's expert preparation skills. (She also happens to be fully prepared for any Zombie Apocalypses)

Sounds exciting, huh? Here is a public thank you to Mrs. Plum (that is your new alias mom) for taking charge and making so many things happen in 48 hours. I would be agreeing to the skydiving wedding my co-worker is trying to convince me I need to do were it not for you. You are the best mom a girl could ever ask for!

Since Sel and I are comparable to the Royals who just got hitched, America has decided to follow in England's footsteps in celebrating our big day. August 12 is going to be a national holiday. Wait, every country is going to get a holiday! Yeah! I have heard your wedding day goes by in a blur and by the time you get to the reception, you are too exhausted to enjoy it. Sel and I, however, are going to be the exception to this commonality. How many other times in our lives are we going to throw a GIANT bash and invite everyone we love? Yup, it is going to be grand :) Be there or be square.

L

Work It Out Now-Funk So Brotha

(The professional looking one. Notice the large number of female interns)
(This picture is all I need to know this year's group is going to be AWESOME!)

First off, I like this song. Second, I have officially started back up with my internship at Watson Pharmaceuticals. I will admit, I was not exactly thrilled at the thought of going back to a 40 hour work week initially. BUT I now have to admit how much I love it already. Time is a really confusing concept for me. You might be thinking to yourself, "Well that's absurd. Time makes perfect sense to me. I know everything there is to know about time." Well, Congratulations! I will be mailing you a shiny gum wrapper with your name on it followed by the title Time Know-It-ALL. During the school year, getting up before 8AM is pure torture. My attendance record for my 8AM classes over the past three years has been sad. Almost as sad as it is to think Sel actually likes the creepy "family heirloom" clown pictures he insists on having in our future abode. On Sunday, my foot was standing "too close" to one of those Nightmare on Elm Street paintings and he almost had a stroke thinking my foot might just destory one of them. If I had been thinking of doing that, everyone knows it wouldn't have been my fault. Your feet are not expected to have control of themselves when they are within twenty feet of the highly disturbing clown paintings. Anyway, back to why time confuses me. I get up at 5:45AM every single day for work during the summer. While getting up this early isn't exactly what I call easy, it ranks on the easiness sclae somewhere between painting my own toe nails and water skiing. (I know most of you out there probably aren't keeping the detailed log of my abilities that you should be. Because I understand your own life may occasionally (very, very occaisionally) prevent you from making my life your main priority, I will help you out. I can paint my own toe nails, though they look like a 5-year-old did it and I suprisingly can water ski fairly well). I think the whole getting paid to be at work is what helps with the waking up before the sun thing. I am planning on asking BYU if they want to actually pay me the sum I normally pay them to go to class. I am 96 % sure they will agree once I reveal to them my plan to teach a SuperHero class to a few select students. The 4% uncertainty comes from my concern they will also want me to teach a Side-Kick class and I simply don't have the time...

One last thing for you to know before you go and do something more productive with your life. My job=AMAZING! The people I work with are phenomenal. In fact, three of my favorite lab friends took me to a belated birthday lunch today and bought me the legendary Passionfruit Cheescake for dessert. All of the people in my department are friendly and brilliant and perfect co-workers. I also am loving what I get to do. I recently got a project from the CMC group that I think might be my favorite. I get to track different products that might (though this is extremely rare) carry strands of TSE-Transmissable Spongiform Encephalopathies (aka Mad Cow Disesase). I am learning about prions right now and the different classes of medicine that follow under this tracking category. It is interesting. Trust me. The other interns also seem fantastic. I got confused all over again this summer though why Watson hired me. Here is a brief breakdown of this years SLC interns.

1 Biomedical Engineer in his second year of the Masters program.

1 Pharmacology student

1 Mechanical Engineering Major

2 Chemistry Majors

6 Chemical/Biomedical Engineering Majors

AND

1 Exercise Science Major. I bet you will never guess who this one is...

I think it must be cause they are hoping I will handpick any of their children attending BYU for my SuperHero class...

L

Afternoon Tea with Barack & Michelle

Over the past three weeks, I have taken a lil tour of the home country. Throughout my travels and in pursuit of getting a new driver’s license (as I have now turned the ripe old age of 21), I have realized I am a homeless person. Since the King Klan has moved to Ohio, I am not exactly sure where to say I am from. I can’t technically say Michigan cause no one in my family lives there and I only lived there for 3.5 years. I can’t say Ohio cause I have spent a grand total of three weeks and three days there in my short life. I am currently trying to claim Utah residency, though I don’t exactly have that one going for me either. I am attempting to use the B-mont address to prove I have lived here for a year, but I am no longer living there. Sigh. I am thinking of moving into a van down by the river. I have always had a fondness for muskrats…

I also had the opportunity to visit a few other states (besides the previously mentioned Oregon): Idaho (for Easter), Illinois (I love Chicago), Ohio, Maryland, Pennsylvania (Sel’s birth place), Washington D.C., West Virginia, and Virginia. I visited ten states in ten days if you count staying a night in Utah. It was kind of an exhausted blur, but I absolutely loved it. I loved everything D.C. had to offer. I had let a few of my AP U.S. History facts trickle out of my brain over the past couple years and adored being reminded of them again and remembering how much I love history. Especially U.S. history. America has had and continues to have its issues like every other country, but I doubt many could easily disregard its magnificence. The brilliant and inspired people who have poured sacrifice after sacrifice into this country are endless and have made America what it is today. I was particularly touched by the war memorials. The Vietnam wall left me speechless. At first I wasn’t sure how to feel looking at the thousands of names I didn’t recognize etched along the far too long marble wall. I then imagined how I would feel to see the names of boys from my ward, friends, my cousins, and even Sel’s name on that wall.

I cannot imagine the pain their loved ones must have felt. I found this quote in Gettysburg that sadly rings true for every war

My family and I also got to visit the WWII memorial and see this picture of my Grandpa King.

He fought in the U.S. Navy and happens to be one of the greatest men to ever live. My grandpa acted a bit like a grumpy old man when he was alive, but he was actually uncommonly kind and giving. I remember one moment from my childhood where he secretly gave me a pretty unicorn necklace and told me the church was true. I have never forgotten that moment nor the other moments where he and my grandma came to ever single sad soccer and basketball game of mine. As I looked at his picture at the memorial, I wondered about how different my life would have been had Reed Kent not come back from the war. My dad, uncle and three beautiful aunts wouldn’t exist. My fun and wonderful first and second cousins wouldn’t exist. My sister wouldn’t exist (see below as she tries to steal a penny from the Lincoln memorial). I wouldn’t exist. My grandma would have married one of the seven other men begging for her beautiful hand and the sixty plus relatives of mine wouldn’t be who they are today. He and my grandma created ripple after ripple of beauty for so many people. After having this run through my head, I thought about the thousands of good men who didn’t return to marry the perfect woman and create a crazy, loud, sometimes obnoxious, yet loving family.

I don’t think the living will never be able to properly honor the names of those who died for this country. Arlington, however, gets really close to showing the gratitude our country has for our soldiers. Especially in regard to the tomb of the unknown soldier. Those who guard the tomb essentially serve something similar to an LDS mission. They abstain from all forms of drugs and alcohol and spend three years fully dedicated to guarding the tomb which is guarded 24/7 rain or shine. It is one of the highest honors a soldier can receive to guard the tomb and it is truly a humbling experience to see and understand all that they do.

We also visited the Holocaust museum. I would go into detail, but I really feel every person should go there at one point in his or her life. I unashamedly cried through the majority of the exhibits. In regard to the Holocaust, I sometimes learn things I never want to think on again. I know human cruelty is deeper and more horrific than I will probably ever comprehend. Why dwell on this fact instead of rejoicing for the billions of examples of humanity’s altruistic ways?When leaving the museum, however, there was a message that altered my mindset. It said to the effect “Next time you see injustice or cruelty, remember what you’ve seen here. Keep this from ever happening again with your remembrance.” This is another powerful quote from the museum.

Before we left D.C., we also visited a couple of the Smithsonian museums. The Aircraft and Spacecraft museum was fascinating! I love everything about astronomy and this museum certainly catered to my love. My favorite Smithsonian was easily the Natural Museum of History. All of that science coupled with history compacted in one area was a dream come true.

We also got to see a beautiful art museum, the museum of printing and engraving (where they make all the money. I was really hoping they would give out a couple Benjamins for souvenirs….), and, of course, we checked out the Declaration of Independence, Bill of Rights, and other important U.S. documents. I would have to say the perfect ending to our D.C. adventure was having tea (herbal of course) with Michelle and Barack. The Obamas are such a charming couple and extremely generous to those they like (aka me…). We invited them to spend a family weekend with us in the Hamptons and we are all looking forward to being reunited. They are especially anxious to meet Sel after hearing so much about him.

The final thing we did on our trip was visit Gettysburg. Instead of relaying my many reflections, I will encourage you to go. The best way I think to start your Gettysburg experience is to watch the movie (narrated by none other than Morgan Freeman) about all of the historical details, do the cyclorama (a giant panoramic mural was created four years after the civil war and you move to different areas of the room as another narration with sound effects walks you through the battle), and walk through the museum. After we really soaked in the details, we just went and stood on the actual sites. The feelings I had are really hard to place. I will let you try and sort them out for yourself when you go there.

I know this post was abnormally long, but I feel like D.C. not only deserves it, but demands it. Hope you get to go there someday!

The B-Mont Horror Film

The first of my travels over the past few weeks started the last day of finals. I got the chance to go on a road trip with my honorary sisters to Oregon for Sars wedding to Bri Guy. Oregon is absolutely stunning as was Sars. The forever long thirteen hour drive was actually a blast because B-Rose, D, Lys, and I were having some fun adventures along the way. One of the adventures of note was getting lost in the perfect town for a horror film. “Texas Chainsaw Massacre”, “The Wiggles Movie”, or “House of Wax” might have been more appropriately filmed here (I never actually saw these, but my sister tells me they were pretty creepy especially the Wiggles one). Everything was run down and not a soul was around (sound the trumpets now for my brief moment of rhyming skills…those are wrong trumpets) on the only road the town of fifteen creepy individuals was proudly displaying. We all kept waiting for a bloody body to fling itself onto the hood of the car as the four helpless college girls clung desperately to their last few moments of life. Of course all of our hair and make-up would be flawless and we would do exactly what everyone watching us would acknowledge as the dumbest thing any human being could ever possibly imagine to do in that situation. Maybe I can still follow in my father’s footsteps and write horror novels/films… Anyway, the wedding day was beautiful, but absolutely exhausting. The girls and I got to the hotel around 3:00AM. Of course we had to stay up a bit longer to hear all about Sars last minute wedding plans and have the shots of cider we missed out on doing for her birthday. Poor Sars and Lys got about an hour of sleep and D, B-Rose and I got about an hour and a half. Waking up was reminiscent of the time a lunatic tied me to the train tracks and I not only got run over by the train, but it malfunctioned over my mangled body and the five ton hunk of metal continued to crush my bones for an hour before a crane came to my rescue. I had never felt so tired in my life. Can you even imagine how Sars made it through not just any old day, but her Wedding day on that little of sleep. Instead of channeling “The Haunting” or “Insomnia” in suit with the theme of horror films, Sars was stunning and not driven mad by the abusive ghost of her great-grandfather. The LDS Portland temple was also stunning. If you are ever in the Portland area and want to see something breathtakingly beautiful, I would encourage you to check it out. After Sars and Bri made their grand entrance onto the grounds as Mr. & Mrs., they took a whole bunch of pictures. We tried to look pretty enough to stand close to her and then we rushed away to help set up for the reception and luncheon. The luncheon was delicious and the reception went perfectly. We started to fall asleep though if we sat longer than ten minutes so it was lucky we didn’t do much sitting that day. We must have looked insane to the other guests as these four random girls cried while our beloved Sars danced with her Dad and Bri at the end of the night. We had spent the first part of the reception decking out Sars and Bri’s car with scrawled inside jokes on their windows and randomly dancing to songs of the playlist. We all stood in the parking lot as they drove away and felt lonely without the girl who has been with us for three years. The horror film “Abandoned” came to mind except our father didn’t abandon our little girls selves fueling our future reaction to kill off our boyfriends when they realized we were psychopaths. We had planned to spend the rest of our night ordering a pizza and watching “Tangled”, but we were barely awake enough to drive to the hotel. The weekend of April 22^nd was magnificent. It marked an ending and beginning to so many things. I am very happy it didn’t mark an ending to our lives as it seemed it might at points J

Here is a sample of how lovely and non-horror film worthy the wedding was.

My Parents. They wanted one of those crying rubber babies to practice parenthood on, but the shipment magically got sent to Russia and they had to settle on taking care of me instead.

Sars being thrilled to be kissed by us instead of Bri

Bri stole my camera and took this fantastic shot of his groomish self

Words...Words...Words... (Hamlet)

Foot Racing

I am not coordinated. I came to accept that fact in seventh grade after our star basketball player ran a drill with me. Three players would run up and down the court throwing balls between one another as quickly as they could. My ball handling skills ranked about 2 on a 100 point scale. The only reason I was even on the first string team was because I was awkwardly taller than most girls my age. Anyway, we ran the disastrous drill during one of the first team practices. Morgan, star basketball player, threw me the ball first. I didn't catch it. Instead it bounced off my ankle causing me to lose my balance and plummet face first on the ever comfortable gym floor. Pretending the newly acquired floor burns weren't causing my not so inner wimpy self to run into the locker room and bawl my eyes out, I got up and kept running for the second pass. The second pass sailed past me as my arms reached helplessly out for it milliseconds too slow. Luckily, the assistant coach on the sidelines with his lightening fast reflexes and desire to relive the 1960 b-ball glory years of his youth caught it for me and tossed it to the other player. Despite the head injury incurred on the third pass, I unfortunately remember it quite vividly. The ball zoomed eagerly from Morgan's hands straight into the left side of my head. I collapsed to the floor clutching my throbbing head. Unfortunately the blood dripping from my left eyebrow didn't block the image of Morgan throwing her hands up in frustration and looking toward our coach. She motioned her hands toward my pathetic figure, her mouth agape in fury, and her body language demanding to know what drugs he was taking when he decided to let me on the team.

I didn't think my athleticism could be disgraced anymore after that moment. I was very sadly incorrect. My dear father hoped to help me to discover some semblance of athletic ability after basketball, volleyball, dance, quidditch, and soccer so miserably failed. He took me to a running trail close to our home and told me to run along side of him for a short mile. After a mere 400 meters of huffing and puffing, I stopped cold and expressed my disdain for our activity. My dad didn't stop for a second. He just motioned his hands forward and kept yelling back to my Olympic worthy self to catch up with him. I only made it another 400 meters before I sat down in the middle of the trail and refused to move. Looking back on that moment, I am amazed I ever became a runner. I guess I must have realized at some point running was my last ditch effort at being involved in something other than athletes.

After boring you with two lengthy paragraphs of my past, I will now arrive at the emphasis of this post. I am currently training for the Utah Valley Marathon. It has been an adventure to say the least. I keep having reoccurring nightmares about the looming race day (June 11th) which are actually pretty entertaining. My most recent one involved me showing up to the starting line in a ten year old's buzz light-year pajamas and giant pink slippers. I also was carrying a 2 gallon packet of Gu (energy gel) on my back. I also happened to witness a murder during the race and was running too slow to get to anyone in time to get help. Essentially, my dreams have tapped into my overwhelming feeling of not being ready. I luckily had the experience this week that I need to boost my confidence. I got fitted for a new pair of Saucony's at the local running shop by an extremely pregnant woman. We got to talking about her due date which she revealed was this upcoming Sunday. She also began telling me her plans to run the Columbus half-marathon on Saturday. As I stared at her bulging belly, I began to remember something I learned a long time ago. Runners are absolutely insane. Have you ever watched a cross-country race? Not a single person is smiling. Even the most talented runners look as if they might be suffering from a mild femur fracture.





Runners are always wanting to go a bit faster and a bit further. One marathon turns into a desire to do fifty. So here is my public thank you to the crazy preggars chick who thinks it is okay to run 13.1 miles hours before her child pops out of her. Thank you for helping me realizing it doesn't matter if I show up to that line in buzz-light year pajamas. Everyone on that line will be just as crazy as I am. :)