Sel: The Spider Slaying Sniper

It has almost been four months since I became Mrs. Sel. I feel like time is speeding by at an alarming rate and can hardly believe it has already been four blissful months. I have decided to brag about Sel here and how absolutely amazing he is. If you don’t want to turn green with envy (this phrase has never made any sense to me considering I have never, ever heard of a physiological response eliciting green coloring-other than maybe the moment right before someone vomits-which I guess one might do if they were envious…), I would suggest you not read this.

Every single morning I get to walk up to Sel’s smiling, perfect face. We usually end up slamming the snooze button three or four times because A. Our apartment is freezing in the mornings B. We are exhausted C. We frankly just like to cuddle under our toasty covers D. I keep hoping that if we stay in bed long enough, a house elf will appear with two steaming plates of breakfast.

Sel is a fabulous cook and is constantly preparing delicious meals for me J One of our favorite things to do is invent new meals together. Sel’s favorite thing we have ever made was a big, fat vat of chili. (Sel actually didn’t make this. It was all me. Which explains why it was a total disaster and we took dead last for the chili cook off…whoops)

Sel slays spiders on a regular basis for me. Our house has an abnormal amount of spiders who are under the impression we are kind, welcoming Bed & Breakfast owners opposed to vengeful, merciless spider snipers.

Sel is not a normal human. I have been reading a few books about marriage in an attempt to avoid studying for finals and have been initiated into the marriagehood club, which means I get to hear random stories about other people’s marriages. What I have concluded from all of these is that Sel is truly exceptional. There seems to be a divide in a lot of instances of what tasks are designated for a husband and a wife, yet Sel ignores these in favor of doing everything together. In fact, he and I both wrote up all of our 250 thank you cards this weekend. While I am sure there are some husbands out there who helped with thank you cards, I haven’t heard of a single one yet.

Seeing Sel after a long day of school, work, volunteering and such is the happiest sight in the world. He just beams at me like I am the best thing he has ever seen and will exclaim for at least ten minutes, “I love you! You make me so happy! I missed you!” while enveloping me in huge bear hugs.

He gives me at least ten sincere compliments every single day and gets giddy when he buys me presents. Want to hear the supreme amazing thing he did that will forever go down in the history of manhood? Sel did the full out Black Friday. Sel is extremely and wonderfully spending conscious which is a perfect balance for us because I sometimes go a little excessive in buying presents for people. He toughed it out as we spent plenty of money on our loved onesJ We left the house with D^2 at 11:30PM, returned to the house briefly at 3:30AM, unfortunately fell asleep for a bit in which Sel had to wake me up. Despite me practically spitting venom at him (and poor Brian) because I A. despise shopping, B. think 5AM is Satan’s hour, C. was soooo tired, D. really, really detest shopping, he sweetly and patiently carried me upstairs to the car to shop from the early hours of the morning until 10:45AM. You heard that correctly. My sweet husband shopped for other people for nearly 12 straight hours. Sel was then the one later that day to suggest we wrap all of the presents together. Sel = the best husband in the whole universe. Look at all this mush on one page. Isn’t it awesome ?! It is! Because Sel is awesome and life is awesome and whoever just read this is awesome.

All The King's Horses

Did you know repeated mild head injuries dramatically increase the chance of developing Alzheimer's?

Guess who probably has a 90% chance of developing alzheimer's? C'est moi.

The hardest part about accurately calculating this percentage is my inability to remember all of my concussions... Memory loss and head injuries, weird. Here is the scientific data I can most accurately use to support my probability.

Concussion 1: I was 10 and my sister adored Brittany Spears (before she caught skankitis). She begged me to hang up a poster and since I was such a star sister back in the day, I agreed. We snuck down to the kitchen and carried one of our cursed bar stools up to her bedroom. As I started taping up Brittany's sucker eating face to the wall, Brittany spit in my face and I fell back slamming my head into the bathroom door frame. Next thing I remember, I was looking up at my parent's worried faces. The major downfall (get it?) in this instance was that Brittany fell behind the dresser when I fell and took forever to retrieve.

Concussion 2: My family and I had just moved to Michigan and this wonderfully sweet girl (let's call her Meridith) invited me skiing. Me + Ski before this = falling, trees, tears, blood, frozen tears, falling. Pretty much, my track record lead me to believe I was fantastic at skiing. Meridith and I decided to go over a massive ski jump. We are talking about HUGE. As huge as a sidewalk curb. Next thing I knew, I was strapped to a stretcher being dragged by a jet ski. It took me twenty more minutes to remember why I was in Michigan and not in Kansas (go ahead. Say it. I heard it all the time after we moved to Michigan from Kansas).

Concussion 3: I am often under the impression I am ridiculously tough. Which, of course, I am. One day, I told him he needed to learn how to properly play football. Who better to teach him than the NFL's number one pick for most valuable player of every position? Me. We lined up facing one another and then my intimidating strength frightened him and we both fell to the ground. I hit my head (an unusual occurrence) and began to rant and cry and go a tinsy bit crazy. After spending the next four hours in the hospital, I got the spend the rest of the night being woken up every hour by his sweet aptly named sister.

Concussion 4: Yesterday. My sweet husband and I were crowded happily into a full house of our lovely family members. We found a spot to sit on the stairs. You know how girls have this odd propensity to be super ticklish? And then they giggle in this adorable, charming way that makes those of the male sex want to tickle them more? I have the first part down annoyingly well, but my "giggle" sounds more like a hyena being dangled off a cliff by Scar. I also having the obnoxious habit of "writhing". Sel decided to tickle me and the chain reaction of hyena laughing and writhing commenced and my head slammed back onto the wood floor. One of the things about Sel's family is that everyone is ridiculously tough. Today we watched multiple wrestling matches between our little cousins and even while they were being repeatedly slammed into the floor, they were beaming. There was no way I was going to burst into tears in front of a room full of our toughened relatives. I retreated upstairs and made the mistake of calling my parents while in hysterics. This is what I was trying to tell them "I hit my head on the stairs and it hurts and I think I have another fetching concussion". This is what my mom heard, "I feel down the stairs, am hemorrhaging, no one knows I am laying pathetically here and I need you to call Sel, and D^2, the C.I.A., Dr. Who (cause he is super awesome) and one of those 'I Survived' producers so this bit can be aired in a few weeks and make me super famous". My mother called my sweet husband and mom and dad-in-law rushed upstairs. Sel was first up and I was NOT going to the hospital which I attempted to make very clear to Sel by repeatedly saying it over and over and over and over and over AND over again. Luckily, there are two doctor's, a nurse, and a schoolteacher in the family who made sure I didn't have to go to the retched hospital. Yeah! Happy Thanksgiving!

Thankfully, the after headache was very mild and Thanksgiving Eve proved to be very happy. I have so very much to be thankful for, including a quick recovery time. I figured I would tell this entertaining story instead of a cliche list of all the things I am thankful for (though those lists are wonderful to read and write) Also, Sel is the sweetest husband in the world and I am so grateful for all he does and is.:) I love him LOTS :) Hope your Turkey Day was full of food, happiness, family, and more food!

Identity Theft: New Girl

There is this new show on Fox called "New Girl" with Zooey Deschanel. My mom called me a few weeks ago after the pilot telling me I HAD to watch it because she reminded her of me. Then Kit and Caboodle told me to watch it because she reminded them of me. Then my dad called. Then my sister. Then four of my friends. Then my aunt. I decided it was high time to see what all the fuss was about. You know what? Her character does remind me of myself. A lot.

BUT here is the big, fat issue with this. Zooey Deschanel is infinitely cooler than me so I feel as if I can't really claim a similarity. Second, the more I watch it the more I get slightly creeped out by how many similarities I see. Third, I am now afraid to do things I normally do for fear someone will accuse me of trying to act like this character. I am now afraid to use "Your mom" as a response to almost everything. I am afraid to sing phrases (horribly off key of course) opposed to saying them. I am even afraid to be afraid of hurting people's feelings.

She even lives in an apartment with three guys like I do! Wait...it is just me, Sel, and a whole colony of spiders. I bet some of the spiders are male though...

Points for Normalcy

(look at how normal and boring we are. Sometimes I wonder how we live with ourselves)

I haven't done one of these in a while. It is called a non-disastor/calamity/awkward encounter blog post. Weird. I know. Sometimes my life is normal for a stretch which tends to leave me paranoid and waiting for the next black cloud storm.

Things have been blissful, but busy. Pretty much ask any human in America, even homeless Tom who sits by the mental hospital 24/7, and they will report their life being busy. I guess another point for normalcy goes to Sel and I for falling into the category 100% of Americans do. Want to hear the fun things we get to do in a week?

1. Go to school. This, contrary to what I might have reported in the past and will likely report tomorrow, is fun. Except for Exercise Physiology. Exercise Physiology blows and I still detest going there four times a week. Luckily, this seems to be a similar consensus among my peers after our last test (which, amazingly, was even more ambiguous and poorly constructed than the last)

2. Volunteer at Head Start. Easily the BEST 3 hours of my entire week (and Sel's). Pretty much we get to play with pre-schoolers, read stories with them, and eat snacks. When I leave Head start, however, I have difficulty going back to grown-up life where your teachers no longer feed you treats and your friends don't jump up and down and run to hug your legs when they see you. Think it's too late to change my major to early childhood education?

3. Utah State Mental Hospital. Sel sadly does not get to do this one with me. Instead he is volunteering through a hospice center (along with working in a bilayer lab cause he is fantastic like that). There are so many blessed stories from my time here, but I am still not sure what exactly I am allowed to talk about. I shadow an occupational therapist who runs a group of 4 patients. On Wednesdays we spend three hours cooking with them, doing crafts, and other OTish stuff. I have learned the art of keeping my back to the wall unless one of the patients decides my back looks like one of those cat claw sharpening boards. After the patients return to their units, I get to be grilled by the OT to see if I observed anything and whether I hold any potential of succeeding in grad school. On Fridays (my favorite) we go on van rides. My job= making sure they don't take anything from the bathrooms they could try and kill themselves (or others) with. My parents and their blessed talent for using the same joke over and over again love to say "What?! They let you out again?!" Every. Single. Time I call them after I leave the hospital. Sometimes I don't have to wonder too long on why no on laughs at my jokes. Anyway, learning A LOT and pondering on possibly (if I take a few more self defense classes) on doing one of my 12 week observations for OT school at a mental hospital.

4. T.A. Still love my job. A lot.

5. Nerf Battles with Sel. He's winning right now...:/

6. Plotting Ways To Beat Sel in Nerf Battles.

Reading over this even made me bored, BUT I am waiting for Sel to finish doing homework right now after having finished all of mine. Do you think I should throw a battle axe at him or go for the glow in the dark dart gun?

The Pedosmile and Hallow Cat

I am usually fairly paranoid. This comes from ample life experience that has led me to believe I attract the abnormal. Going to my abnormal psych class is NOT helping my paranoia nor is volunteering at Utah State Mental Hospital. On Halloween, we talked about pedophiles amongst other disturbing sexual disorders which added fuel to my belief creepy people are everywhere. Luckily, I am married to a hulking man beast who is also quite suspicious. Unluckily, when we are together everyone (including the 90-year-old widow living in the house next to us), could be a crazy serial killer.

Halloween night, Sel and I were determined to find "What Lies Beneath". We looked EVERYWHERE: Walgreens, Smiths, 7-11, the Provo and Orem library, BYU media center and Red Box. Alas, no mildly scary movie. We had no other choice but to go to Wal-Mart at 10PM. Do you know who else goes to Wal-Mart at 10PM? Those select, elitist individuals whose main calling in life is to star in a horror film. Every single day at 10PM, Wal-Mart holds auditions for the freakiest of the freaks. As Sel and I scanned through the murder provoking bins of $5 movies, I felt the eyeballs of another human looking at me. I looked up and gave a polite smile to the guy next to me. I figured his attention was drawn to me because I was fully decked out in Hogwarts attire. Who wouldn't want to admire my fantastical robes made by my mom-in-law? Then I moved to another bin, and Mr. Pedosmile joined my bin two minutes later. Not unusual. Yet. He started to move a little closer to me and every time I looked up, guess who was staring me down and flashing an awkward lip smile framed by a dirty stache? He eventually left and I continued to drown in 800 copies of cheap movies. A few minutes later, I felt eyes on me again. I almost screamed as I stared back at Mr. Pedosmile hiding behind some ties a few feet away and shooting me his creepo smile. I decided Sel needed to come to my bin NOW. He, because he is the best, made his way over to my bin the way any gallant protector would. Sel scanned around for Pedosmile, but he had slithered into the clothes section. Of course. As is tradition in ANY store we go in, we made our way over to the Nerf aisle so Sel could admire the beauty of "safe" weaponized machinery. He assured me Pedosmile was a normal human simply looking around the store who unfortunately smiled like a classic van driving, glasses wearing pedophile. AND THEN lo and behold Mr. Pedosmile was lurking at the end of the Nerf aisle. I decided it was time we got out of there before he pulled out a weapon that shot more than orange fluff balls. I did a classic horror film look back as we exited the store to see Mr. Pedosmile looking longingly down the aisle at us.

Flash forward to 3AM later that night. Sel and I had just finished our studying/homework and were looking forward to five hours of blissful sleep when an eerie sound started to drift in through the window. "Mehooowll". We both tensed and continued to listen as a second mehoowll joined the first. I mentally cursed my father for telling me his novel, "Pet Cemetery", was from a dream he had. Liar! It was based on a real story and two of the cats from Pet Cemetery were outside our window hoping to scratch us to death.

Me: "What is that?!"

Sel: "Probably nothing. We should just go to sleep"

Me: (muttering under my breath) "It does NOT sound like nothing. It sounds like a ghost cat choking down human blood"

Sel doozed off and I stared at the window with blood shot bug eyes waiting for Clarissa the Cat to bust through the thin glass. In the morning, Sel helped calm my fears about the ghost cats.

Sel: "So the reason I didn't think we should look out the window last night was because it could have been a serial killer/rapist. They use the technique of recording cats or crying babies so you will open the door and they can kill you"

This was a HUGE comfort because I would much rather be brutally tortured by a psychotic human with zero remorse who derives intense pleasure from hunting out victims and watching them slowly die than being scratched by a ghost cat. Who wouldn't prefer a serial killer/rapist to a transparent ball of fluff? I know I would.

Ghost Cat

V.S.

Serial Killer