An Ode to the Deceased: The Beast

The week of awfulness has passed and I have officially conquered the mangy stomach flu bug who invaded my body. A big thank you to my lymphocytes for all their hard work.

Now on to a very grievous subject. The death of a beloved companion.

My younger sister was involved in a car accident this weekend where she wrapped this beloved friend of mine around a tree. She, my sister, is completely fine other than a broken shoulder and a new found desire to STOP thinking twenty over the speed limit is a must. A hero has left our midst though and left an awful, black box shaped space behind him.

The Fallen Hero

The young girl he saved

The Beast came to our family 12 years ago. He was shiny and white and full of promising adventure. I loved him from the moment he rolled into our garage. My senior year of high school, Beasty Boy became my designated school vehicle. Sure he wasn't a shiny mercedes or BMW, but he knew how to get me to the places I needed to be. I was proud to call him my own (even though he technically was not mine...)

My trusty stead loaded up all my belongings at the end of high school and safely escorted Poptart and I to good ole Utah.

We shared a tearful goodbye as he wished me well at college and promised to keep an eye on my family for me.

Then the unthinkable happened. Beast came back into my life in a big way. He came all the way form Michigan to guide me through the next two years of adventures.

The Geo, the beloved blue companion who escorted me in the Beast's absence

Beast took me to the ends of the earth to cross-country ski

Beast loved my friends

Beast drove for me when Lys and I decided posing for pictures was more pertinent

Beast helped me kidnap cultured humans

Beast helped me fight my battles (and win them)

Beast protected my loved ones and I from wild animals when we went camping

Beast reassured me I looked like Scary Spice even though I wasn't black. Essentially, Beast was not a racist. It is hard nowadays to find a car that isn't racist

Beast was there when I met Sel. Beast was there when I wanted to talk to him about Sel when everyone else was tired of hearing me talk about how fantastic he was.

The most amazing part of Beast's character though and the reason we now mourn is that Beast was a protector. Sure he shook like an old man when he ricocheted down the freeway. Sure it cost two weeks of human food to feed his automobile nutritional needs. Sure he still somehow smelled of my dirty running shoes. BUT Beast saved my little sister. Beast saved me from being forever trapped in P-town. Beast saved the world if you really think about it.

Beast will live forever in infamy. My family and I will be holding an honorary service for this cherished piece of metal June 2, 2012.

May the impact the Beast had on you (and the tree) inspire you to be just a little bit better today.

Thank you for all your support at this time

Contagion

It is 2:30AM and I cannot sleep. Today has been one of the most miserable in my entire life. From throwing up to having a fever of 103, I haven’t been this sick in years. I have been delirious for most of the day and spent it texting and calling people about nonsensical things. Sel has been the most amazing caretaker in the entire world. He made me jell-o (which I am currently trying to force down), he carried my limp, pitiful body back and forth from the bathroom. He added blanket upon blanket as I sobbed about how freezing I was. He also forced me to drink a Powerade from my little sippy cup which was awful, but I think helpful on my road to recovery. He and my kind brother-in-law gave me a blessing. Sel put a heating pad on my side of the bed so when he managed to carry me like a stork to bed, it was nice and toasty. He has been trying to study for a big test he is taking on Thursday and has been SO patient with my absolutely pathetic self. My wish for death has become slightly lessened, but is still there whenever I try to move my aching limbs. Death come swiftly, death come quick. I spent 1:30-now crawling around our house wondering where I was and why Aragorn was telling me to "Fight back!". Poor Sel has been trying to sleep and trying to make sure I don't do something destructive. If you see that sweet boy today on campus, you should give him a BIG hug for me because my highly contagious self cannot :(

The Welsh Irishman's Holiday

St. Patrick's Day is one of the supreme deities in terms of holidays. It is the one holiday where wearing obscene amounts of green is not only permitted, but mandatory in order to avoid being pinched. I started off this holy holiday by running the Rex Lee 5K with none other than Ohio(one of the coolest girls you shall ever meet. Don't bother asking me her real name. Her publicist made me sign a contract to never reveal it so she wouldn't acquire countless stalkers who would restrict her and her husband's busy lives) Ohio and I both, unplanned, rocked some bright green eye shadow for the race which was ideal for our award ceremony (we tied for first in the 5K and 10K actually).

St. Patty's also involved Sel's traditional meal of green spaghetti (in this case linguini) along with a cucumber & avocado salad, nasty looking, yet delicious green strawberry lemonade, and green banana cream pudding with sprinkles of course.

We then invited a banjo playing leprechaun, Pam, (who made his debut here ) and his charming friend, Disney.

Pam and Sel have had an ongoing joke about how Game Hen sounds a lot like Gay Men. While Sel and I were holding up Winco the other day, we saw some adorable game hens that we just knew Pam would want to eat up possibly with green food items.

The game hen that spewed out green mashed potatoes

(Green Bread with green honey & butter)

The eating party

After some Irish jigs, Disney & Pam gave said beannacht and left Sel and I to our plotting.

(Sel & I plotting...it's a beautiful thing as our faces so indicate)

We plotted to find a suitable place to bury our pot of gold. So I dressed up in our leprechaun gear and we headed out to follow the rainbow. We pretty much walked to our different friends houses, rang the door bell, threw rainbow confetti at their face, and ran away while leaving some green colored bread as a memoir of their new favorite holiday experience.

Happy St. Patrick's Day All!

King of Hearts

I know this is far overdue, but since yesterday was honoring a Saint I figured I could still honor the Saint of last month. Good ole St. Valentine.

Sel is astounding for all who haven't caught on yet. He also happens to be one romantic chap with stealthy sup rising skills.

On February 14th, I woke up and made some awful tasting pancakes that I disguised to look appetizing with strawberry and banana hearts. Sel was very kind and pretended like he enjoyed the carcinogenic morsels I presented him with. I also heart attacked our living room for him and crafted some homemade valentines. Nothing too fancy, but I was hoping it was helping Sel get an idea of how much I love him.

Since it was a crazy school day for Sel, I really wasn't expecting him to be able to do a whole lot. What a fool I am! That boy is the most considerate, sweet, and loving human I have ever met. After coming home from a fun, yet exhausting day, I opened the door to this

Sel had rearranged the heart attack to a beautiful candle lit path to the bedroom.

On the bed was this beautiful bouquet, emerald earrings, the most fabulous tacky light up heart thing Sel bought at K-mart, and of course, Chocolate :) The whole Valentines Day typicals wrapped into one completely perfect and heartfelt idea.

Yup, I married the best one there is.

Hope you enjoyed the mush!

After College

Sel and I are both currently working on our hoop jumping skills. False: We are not practicing for church basketball season. False: We are not fulfilling our dreams of joining the circus...yet. True: We are trying to look like the fanciest poodles in the arena for those menacing medical/grad school judge panel. (Note- I have always kind of dreamed of dying poodles pastel colors for Easter and having them deliver me cadbury eggs and jolly rancher jelly beans in a basket..)

Here are some of the things I have been noticing.

1. Getting into medical school is infinitely more difficult than getting into any other graduate program I have ever heard of. That poor boy has a lot on his shoulders, BUT those shoulders are some of the most capable, sturdy, fun to ride atop of shoulders I have ever known. Not worried in the slightest about Sel impressing the judges. He kind of impresses everyone with his brilliance (and charming little boy smile)

2. I should have gone to BYU-I. Yes, it is a frigid wasteland of seeming death, BUT it has gloriously small class sizes. One of the most important things for both Med/OT school are letters of recommendation. With BYU's typical science classes of 300 plus, being B.F.F.'s with your prof is not happening anytime soon. Even in the upper level classes Sel and I am are in currently, it is so dang hard to get to know your professors. Especially if you have a billion things to do that going into an office hour or two is requiring you to call a bunch of humans and explain you won't be able to make it to your usual appointment. Do I wish I was super tight with my profs? Heck to the yes. Not just for letters of recommendation, but because I genuinely would love to hear all about their wonderful, brilliant, quirky lives.

3. OT School + Med School = Poor. Yes, I know taking out student loans is expected and they get paid off one way or another. The daunting thing is though precisely how much that entails. My very bright mom-in-law said we should look at it as an investment, but I sometimes wonder if I would actually want to invest in me. I definitely would invest in Sel over and over again, but come on...I should be studying for my two quizzes tomorrow and am instead blogging about how worried I am at succeeding at life. Elle Stock's are going at 1 Rupee right now.

4. Studying for the GRE while trying to balance school, work, saving the world from man eating dolls, volunteering, and normal bodily maintenance things (showering, eating, sleeping) is really, REALLY not happening. As in I have studied a grand total of twenty pages.

5. Figuring out what to do with yourself for a year in P-town while Sel finishes school is not particularly exciting. Mostly I just worry about whether or not I will become the college graduate working at Mickey Dee's. (No Offense lil sis. That was a very respectable occupation when you were 16)

6. The only thing really motivating me to continue to raise my violet died fluffy body through flaming hoops of impossibility is the idea that I might someday be an actual OT. I might actually be a fetching Professor of OT. Dr. Elle. I would, of course, require any and all of our future offspring to refer to me as Dr. I might actually be able to get paid to teach a stroke victim how to eat again or play with four-year-olds on a trampoline all day. I could hang out with my friends at the mental hospital all day while we make dream catchers. Who wouldn't want to get paid to play with people you know you are going to love?

Ugh. Anybody else feeling like they would rather drink shots of arsenic tainted cough syrup than do all of these fun application items?

Flickin Chicken

This past month has been one mourning a most epic tragedy that was simultaneously coupled with a most fantastical event. Let me first begin by illustrating the fanastical event called "Le Date Ala Chicken" We decided to set up two of our friends and go on a double date with them. The male friend, Blind Dave (which ironically sounds a lot like Blind Date) with our female friend, Mulan.

(Blind Dave)

(Mulan)

Sel and I wrangled up a rotessiere chicken and other delectable picnic-esque foods and headed to the ever classy, ever exciting Wilkinson center with our smashing companions.

During dinner, Mulan revealed to Blind Dave her desire to go into Brain Discount Sales. As she is a neuroscience major, this makes complete sense. Who better to trust in the purchase of your next brain than a neuroscience graduate? She promised to start a website soon to advertise her up and coming business.

After dinner, the games began. Flickin Chicken is played like frisbee golf with a movable target except the frisbee is a small rubber chicken. The point of the game is to hit the targets in the least amount of throws and win the honor of wearing the Cap of Chicken Flickin Victory)

(Mulan wearing the Cap of Chicken Flicken Victory)

I was obviously the best considering my extensive background in athletics. (I lost. Big time. Even bigger than you are currently imagining actually.) While in the library, which has become a favorite to get into shenanigans at, we placed the target atop a bookcase. Stepped back a few rows and started by attempting to throw it over the other bookcases. On our second throw, a security guard decided to mozy his authoritative self over to our game arena. We hurriedly pretended to all be in separate rows looking intensely at some very outdated books.

After he left, my poor chicken, chacochiko, was nowhere to be found. We continued looking on every single row for the next forty-five minutes. I was getting desperate because I know how rubber chickens can have severe panic attacks when separated from their rubber chicken family members. I decided to face the evil security guard who probably kidnapped my chicken on his rounds. I went to the first security desk and asked if anyone had turned in a brown, small rubber chicken.

Security Girl 1: A brown rubber chicken? Hahahahah.

Me: No. I am serious.

Security Girl 1: Wait, really?

Me: Yes. A security guard just passed by me about 30 minutes ago and I was wondering if he picked up my chicken.

Security Girl 1: Um....let me go check. (Enters Security Office) Hey, Chad, did you by chance pick up a rubber chicken in your last rounds?

(Outbreak of laughter)

Chad: Wait, You're serious? No. Of course not...Why would there be a rubber chicken in the library?

Twenty bucks that kid totally stole my chicken and was too embarrassed to admit it.

After our sad ending to our happy game, the four of us decided to leave and hope chacochicko would find a nice book to nest next to for the next couple of hours.

(Rubber chickens love to play hide & seek, but they couldn't beat the likes of us)

(Mulan, Blind Dave, & Sel Proudly Displaying their non-lost chickens. Mulan developed such a tear jerking love for her chicken that she refused to do anything put kiss it's rubbery cheek for the entirety of our Snookie eating)

On the offhand chance the Chad the shifty security guard did not in fact steal my chicken, I will be posting "Missing Chicken" posters around campus. The reason I didn't do this immediately after the disappearance is because of the Nugget Alert. The Nugget Alert is similar to filing a missing persons file, expect you have to wait 24 days to post the alert about your missing chicken. If any of you find one that looks just like this (see below) except brown, please contact me ASAP. Chacochicko's family most sincerely thanks you. A reward will be given for the swift return of our beloved friend.

B.F.F.'s

Guess what B.F.F. stands for?

Brave & Ferocious Fighters

Bavarian French Fascists

Bali-wood Favoring Freaks

B-Asian Flexibility Fiends

or, if you want to be cliche,

Best Friends Forever.

This has been the weekend (slash a year and a half) of being B.F.F's with Sel.

Our date nights for the past few weekends have been A-W-E-some :)

Two weekends ago we tried out Banana Leaf (delectable new Indian restaurant-the owners are from Sri Lanka and are soon to be our B.F.F.'s-Bali-wood favoring freaks) & went to "One For the Money"

Last weekend we were supposed to go to P.F. Changs and then to the Peking Acrobat show. Turns out P.F. Changs is annoyingly packed on Friday nights. And so is that new sandwich place by the mall. And the Mexican restaurant by the mall AND Iggy's. Not Five Guys though...Aside from taking way too long to find an institution that would take our money and feed us, the show was SPECTACULAR. I decided long ago that Asians are not human. They are super human. Some too amazing to be real types in all areas-physical, mental, social, emotional, etc. These acrobats were insane and Sel and I are still blown away.

This weekend was our Euro date night. I was in charge of planning it and kind of failed at first. On Friday Sel got 100% on his anatomy test. 100% on a 100 question test. Not real. I am married to someone who maybe has some Asian blood in him...maybe our babies will have beautiful almond shaped eyes and perfect raven colored hair!!! Also, the poor chap has another test coming up for that class and is probably going to get ANOTHER 100%. Anyway, after Sel's test I was planning on having a lovely dinner ready for us. Instead, I got distracted by one of the ultra fluffy sofa things in the JSB with sunlight basking it in welcoming warmth. I was awakened an hour later by Sel's phone call that he was done at the testing center. We walked home and spent the next two hours deliberating between the many options I had come up with. Sel does not really do well with being hungry. Who does really? So by the time 8:00PM rolled around he was REAL hungry and real frustrated that his wife was failing the dating planning responsibility he has been taking on since we first met. I mean, come on, what doesn't that boy ace? Huge tests. Date planning. Being the best human ever.

FINALLY, I decided we were going to walk to Smith's, buy stuff for bruschetta, and have a Euro picnic in our living room.

The very cultural movie we watched was Triumph of the Will. Never heard of it? Oh, that's because it is Nazi propaganda documentary :) Hold up. False, we are not supporters of the Nazi Party. I learned all about the director, Leni Riefenstahl, in my civ class and Sel is all about learning anything and everything about Germany. Anything. It was interesting for a bit, but it also made me feel like punching Hitler in the face and swiftly ripping off his hideous nose hair extension mustache and stuffing it down his throat. When don't I feel like that though? Nurnburg, as I learned at age 6 looking through my dad's pictures, is one of the most beautiful cities in the world and I desperately want to go there. :) Maybe for Christmas. Mom, Dad? Wanna go? Cool. Great. Awesome.

Also, this weekend has been spent perfecting our Nerf battling skills. I have now mastered the battle axe. As in, I can catch the handle of the axe all LOTR style in midair. I have never felt more legit. Sel has mastered his Nerf macing and, as always, dominates the Nerf sword. His foot work far surpasses mine. We also got some fantastical guns for X-mas from our cousins, Jesse & Syd, and had battles with them during our homework breaks. Nerf RULES folks.

B.F.F's all the way!!!!!!!!