Ach!

I hate that it's been over a month without any blog posts. But school comes first. I am done with two of my classes for this semester. I just have a few more papers to finish up, a final Tuesday afternoon, and a final Wednesday morning. Then I'll have all the time in the world to blog. And catch up on cleaning my house. And make all those Christmas presents that I haven't had time for. And do all those fun Christmas activities that I have planned. Those should make lots of fun posts. Thanks for sticking around even though I'm mostly absent.

No News IS Good News!

I just got word that my wonderful best friend will only have to have 10 shots and not intense chemo as long as her body reacts well. This is such a relief.

If you don't know what I'm talking about, check it out here and here.

No News is Good News?

First, thank you to everyone who has been worried about me. I didn't want to make people worry but I had to get it off my chest. I just couldn't bring myself to talk about the specifics of  it yet. I couldn't force myself to write down what was happening. But now I will.

In September my best friend of 12 years excitedly told me she was pregnant. I was happy for her but also nervous because the father wasn't the greatest guy in my opinion. But I supported her because I love her and after seeing how much support she was getting from her family I knew she could do it. In the middle of October she went to hear her baby's heart beat but they only heard the hum of the machines. So they did an ultrasound and found that she had a molar pregnancy and that there was no baby. She had surgery the next day and had to go back to the hospital with complications after the outpatient surgery. She was in the ICU for awhile because of a thyroid storm and fluid in her lungs. Everything was fixed (except her broken heart) and she was released from the hospital a few days later.

They did follow up tests to make sure her hCG levels were returning to normal. But they weren't, which is an indication of a cancer called Choriocarcinoma. She went in for CT scans earlier this week. If it hasn't spread she will get shots of a low dose drug to kill the rest of it in her uterus. I'm assuming they'd use methotrexate since it's specifically mentioned in the Wikipedia article about Choriocarcinoma. If it has spread she will have to undergo full on intense chemotherapy with the hair loss and everything. Since she had problems with her lungs in the hospital they're more worried about it having spread.

So, it's Friday and the CT scans results are supposed to be here. But for some reason they didn't do all of the scans that they needed to because of a paperwork mix-up or some garbage, so she had to go back to get more scans done. And we're all still waiting for the results...

So Many Things

I feel like so many things are going on that I should have a ton of stuff to post about. But then when I sit down and start to write, I realize that everything I feel so busy with is mental. I'm not doing a ton of fun activities like over the summer, but I'm doing a lot of reading, writing, and thinking for school. I'm thinking about my future and often about my past. And it's hard. The first time I was in school I felt like I could take a long time because I had graduated from high school with so many college credits. Now, I feel like I can't mess up. My semesters are planned so rigidly that I cannot fall behind. I'm doing well so far so I shouldn't worry but it's so much pressure.

And then there's "The Thing". The thing that I refuse to talk about because if I don't talk about it, it will go away, right? "The Thing" that I keep hoping isn't true and keep praying can't exist but I won't know until Friday. "The Thing" that will change lives, not my life the most, but it will definitely affect me. It's the thing that makes me stare out the window of the bus but not see a thing that passes by. It's the thing that makes me shake my head in the middle of a lecture so I can focus again. It's the thing that makes my stomach hurt, that I wake up in the middle of the night thinking about. "The Thing" is at the point where, if it's there, there is only one way to fix it. A hard, painful, long way. A tearful, stressful, sick way. A way that breaks you down so far you may wish you were dead from the very thing you're trying to fix. I keep hoping with all my heart that "The Thing" in this case is just a myth. I keep reminding myself not to be upset because we don't know yet. And I just keep waiting...

Our House Guest

Today we had an unexpected guest grace our house with his presence. After I got home from school I was relaxing on the couch with my laptop when I glanced up and saw a furry, four legged creature with whiskers and a tail on the floor. Seeing fur and a tails is a common occurrence at my house since we have a cat and a dog. This guest was in addition to my furry, four legged pets. It was a small brown mouse. I said with surprise, "Oh, Doug, I just saw a mouse." I'm not afraid of mice but I don't enjoy them being in my house. At this time of year mice always find their way in from the cold and end up in our old basement apartment. Usually the fearless tuna eater Biscuit kills our mouse guests before we notice them running around. Doug went and got Biscuit and I went into the other room so I didn't have to see the mouse meet his fate. But for some reason Biscuit was uninterested. So Doug put on work gloves and tried to pull Mr. Mouse out of his bookshelf house. It wasn't working so Doug asked me to shove my ombrella in the crack to scare him out. He scurried his way into the container that Doug had waiting for him.

Isn't he a cutie? We kind of wanted to keep him as a pet but didn't think it would be fair to him since we also have a cat. Doug gave that mouse a cookie (but it did not ask for milk) and we took him on a car ride to the field next to my work. Doug took him to a nice grassy knoll and opened the box. Mr. Mouse jumped out and ran off to find a new home.

I'm so grateful to have married a man who will spend an extra half hour capturing the mouse and releasing it into the wild instead of just killing it. I love animals so much and it's great to have a husband who is also kindhearted to all living things.

Which house guests have you had to relocate? Which ones do you wish you could relocate (I like my in-laws but I know some people would like to release theirs into a field) ?

An Answer to Mo

Mo,

     I apologize for not answering your question on Tuesday before I got off the bus. I've thought about your question for the last two days. I was expecting to see you on the bus again today to give you an answer. For whatever reason you weren't there. But I still have an answer for you (even though you don't know about my blog because I don't give personal information to random people on the bus).

     The short answer is, I just do. I doubt you wanted such a brief answer when you asked "How do you keep doing it when school gets hard?" I don't think of any alternative. Quitting isn't an option. As soon as the thought of quitting crosses my mind, I throw it out like the month old Indian food in the depths of my refrigerator. I can either do my best or do my best. Those are the only two options I give myself.

     I used to get trapped comparing myself to other students. They'd go above and beyond, turning assignments in early, making study guides, and coming to school extremely early only to leave a few hours before they'd have to return the next day. I got so discouraged because I would never be a good student like they are. Then I realized that I'm not them. I don't have to do what they do to be a good student. I just have to do my personal best. I make goals for myself. If I don't meet those goals then I've let myself down. Instead of dwelling on it I remind myself that the next day I can do better than the day before and that's all that matters; improving myself every day with only my previous self to compare against.

     Think about all you've sacrificed to go to school. You came all the way from Tonga. Your parents got your started on the path to American citizenship. That's amazing! You seemed impressed that I already have a bachelors degree at 24 and that I'll have a second one in a little less than two years. But I'm impressed that you are in a whole new country, going to school, and learning the confusing bus system. Even though you're in your first semester, you've sacrificed enough that it's worth it for you to keep trying your best and to finish. Eventually you'll have enough classes finished that you're more than half way to graduating.

     There are people to help you. Parents, friends, classmates, teachers, advisers, and many other people invested in your education. But when it comes down to it, your name will be on the diploma and you will have to do the work to earn it. You have to want it.

     By going to school you will gain so much. You will gain knowledge about things you've never heard of before. You'll probably gain knowledge of things you never want to hear of again. Hopefully, you'll also gain the ability to keep learning, to think about issues from multiple perspectives, and to find solutions to tough problems.

Best of luck to you my single-serving friend and may the force be with you.

Sincerely,

Emily




     

My Sweet New Ride

School started on Monday. And on Monday I also got a sweet new ride. No more little Chevy Cavalier for me.

Yes, I now ride the bus. Luckily I don't drive the bus or there would be a few cars mowed down. Why do I ride the bus? The biggest reason is I don't want to end up in this crazy parking lot. The roads leading to campus look similar to all the parked cars; completely congested and not moving.

Another reason I ride the bus is because public transportation is better for the environment. I'd be one person in a car making pollution. Instead I'm one person on a bus with twenty other people making our carbon footprint go down. I'd ride my bike but there is way too big of a hill to go up for my cute little pink cruiser with no gears.

How do you get where you're going?

Big Versus Small

I'm sorry everyone but this is going to be a rant post. I can't help it. I've been quiet about it for too long.

Yesterday at work I had a girl come in who was a size 8. 8 is a pretty average size and we carry quite a few dresses in size 8. This girl thought she was fat though because our society has a serious problem with body image distortions. While we were looking through the gowns for this bride to try on, she found one she liked in a size 0. We didn't have it in her size and could not order it before her wedding. She absentmindedly said "Zero, who's a size zero, gosh." Then she looked at me and said I was probably a zero, to which I replied, "Actually, I'm a size 2." I was really annoyed.

I'm a naturally thin person. I don't make it a point to exercise or deny myself things I want to eat. I'm a vegetarian for animal rights reasons, not health reasons. I ride my bike to work sometimes because I think it's fun. Anyone who knows me just knows that I'm tall and thin. I always have been. Everyone in my family is.

Now, if everyone in my family were large, if we were all obviously overweight, nobody would say "Size 14, who's a size 14, gosh." They would keep their mouth shut. I don't understand when it became okay to criticize people for being thin. I'm not anorexic and you shouldn't assume that I am and tell me to eat more. Nobody tells bigger people to eat less, at least not to their face, so please stop telling smaller people to eat more. It's just rude, and quite frankly none of your business.

Happy Pioneer Day

Here in the great state of Utah, we celebrate our pioneer heritage with parades, time off work, and fireworks! On July 24 in 1847 Brigham Young and the first group of Mormon pioneers entered the Salt Lake Valley. I have ancestors on both sides of my family who traveled to Utah as pioneers, not with the first group but later. My great great great grandmother Emily Hill Woodmansee was in the Willie handcart company which got a late start in 1856 and ended up stranded in a blizzard in Wyoming. She survived and went on to do wonderful things. You can read about her here. I'm so glad I wasn't born back then. I like my running water, electricity, and car. Thanks to those pioneers for being tough and giving us a reason to celebrate.

On the Mountain

For as long as I can remember my family has said "going on the mountain" when we travel 16 miles up a dirt road to the top of a mountain to camp, hike, and enjoy nature on my family's property. It's never been "going to the cabin" or "driving to the meadow" or even "being in the mountains." We don't say "going to our property" or "driving to our land." As I traveled the 16 bumpy, dusty miles in my small sedan, I pondered why we say "going on the mountain." It's probably just what's always been said, but, as I thought, I began to feel like the phrase "going on the mountain" personifies the land. The mountain becomes an entity unto itself. No matter how many acres are registered on the deed or how many dollars of taxes are paid, the mountain is greater than all of that. It embodies both the violent forces and gentle beauty that nature holds in her hands. "Going on the mountain" fills me with respect for the area to which I'm going. I gain appreciation for the grandeur and beauty of each majestic ridge down to each thin blade of grass. It doesn't feel like my land to be used and abused however I want. "Going on the mountain" requires and invitation from nature. Only once the snow is melted and the frosts cease, and only once the winds calm and the fires die are we given permission to trespass "on the mountain."

The meadow, the road, and the reservoir

Cougar ridge

The cabin nestled in the trees

The Butch Cassidy cabin in the meadow

A herd of elk, also called wapiti

Running elk

Giant aspen trees

The patchwork fields seen while driving off of the mountain

Happy Birthday to Dad

Today is my dad's birthday. I have known him for my 24 years on this planet and would loved to have known him the years before that too. Let me tell you a little bit about him.

My dad is one of the most helpful people I know. If you're stuck on the side of the road with a flat tire, my dad will be the one to stop to help you change it. If you're his neighbor, he's been to your house multiple times to help you fix your car, work in your yard, or just tell you about some new product that will cure whatever you told him is ailing you. If he thinks you need something he will acquire it for you, whether you really need it or not. My dad has stolen multiple of my friends' cars only to return them with a full gas tank. He has stepped up to make sure multiple young men participate in Scouting and has helped a few get their Eagle Scout award. Whether you ask for his help or not, my dad is there and willing to lend both hands.

My dad has had his own horse, has been on a cattle drive, and started driving the tractor on the family farm when he was eight years old. He, his parents, and his siblings have lived on only $1000 for a whole year. My dad had his left hand hit with a ruler by his teacher so he would learn to write with his right hand (yes, even in the late 1950s his small town teacher thought it would help). My dad got sprayed by a skunk in a ditch while throwing rotten tomatoes at cars. He wanted to be a race car driver and once had to fix a car overnight after messing it up in a street race (if I remember correctly).

My dad lost a high school girlfriend to a drunk driver. He lost his brother to a farming accident. And he lost multiple friends and acquaintances to the Vietnam war. He lost my younger sister when she was only a baby. He also lost his parents in very old age. With each death I think a little of him was lost too.

My dad has sold shoes, has built cars on an assembly line, and has eaten squirrel. He assisted at the Indy 500 while on his LDS mission. My dad took a motorcycle road trip to Mexico which I only heard about because I was going on a date with a guy on a motorcycle. My dad was the first in his family to graduate from college, earning a Bachelors Degree in Environmental Science.

My dad got married and had 4 children. He worked over 25 years at a job he disliked to support us. He taught me how to fix my car (and in the process a few curse words) and how to take responsibility for what I own. He taught me to work hard and stick with things even when they're hard. He taught me to save money and only buy what I need. My dad has helped me become who I am, the quirky eclectic me.

My dad has lived 62 full years of life and I wish him the happiest birthday in the world! I love you Dad.

I Chose the Bush

Every time I ride my bike I have the attitude that every car is out to get me. It becomes very disappointing when that becomes true. Yesterday I rode my bike to work and home from work. It is only a little over a mile with the majority of it being on a bike path. I have a cute pink cruiser bike with a basket and a bell. I don't go very fast so I stay on the sidewalk but always brake and yield to pedestrians. I try to be as safe as possible while riding. I look for cars at every crosswalk and every driveway. I don't ride with earphones so that I can hear what's going on around me. I don't cut across traffic or cross against the light. And yet, yesterday, I was forced to chose between being hit by a car and crashing into a bush. I chose the bush.

Scrapes on my foot from crashing into the bush.

In the 1.2 miles home I was at risk in crosswalks and at driveways 5 times due to cars not yielding to pedestrians/bikes/oncoming traffic. That's a pretty bad record considering there are only 13 crosswalks and driveways from work to home. Had I not been paying attention I probably would have ended up in the hospital rather than only in a bush. Wearing flip flops wasn't the safest thing but other than that I took every precaution.

I don't mean to complain, I just want everyone to be aware and to be safe. Please stop before the sidewalk when pulling out of driveways and side streets. Check for pedestrians and bikes as well as for oncoming traffic. When turning right at lights please check that the crosswalk is clear before following your green light. The person crossing the street will be out of your way soon enough, there is no reason to cut them off or go before them. If turning right on a red make sure that nobody needs to cross with traffic. If going straight at a light please stop before the crosswalk so that others can see around you. The two seconds you take to be safe are worth saving the life of a biker or pedestrian.

Thank you for reading my little rant and please please please be safe while driving.

A Light Bulb Moment

Today while cleaning the bathtub I may have had the best cleaning idea ever. I'm sure others have also thought of this, but I'd never heard of it.

You'll need a little back story on my problem. My bathtub drips ALL the time. It's a constant drip. And it wastes a lot of water, like gallons a day. If it were my house and I weren't only renting I would have had a plumber fix it years ago. I told the landlord about it a long time ago and I think they don't really care because they never sent anyone to look at it. The water here has tons of minerals in it, otherwise know as hard water. It can cause stains on sinks, toilets, and tubs. Since the tub faucet always drips, there is a constant supply of minerals assaulting my bathtub.

I have tried everything to get those blasted hard water stains off the side of the tub. I can scrub them off the bottom of the tub, but on the sides no cleaner would stick long enough before flowing down the drain.

Then today I looked at the toilet and a light bulb appeared above my head. Toilet bowl cleaner is designed to stick to the sides of the bowl. It gels on until you scrub it off. I bounced over to the cupboard, pulled out the toilet cleaner, and applied it to the stains on the bathtub. Then I waited 10ish minutes. Then I held my breath for luck, and scrubbed. AND THE STAINS CAME OFF! I didn't even have to scrub that hard. For two+ years I have been trying to get those minerals off and the answer was sitting in my cupboard the entire time! After it was cleaning I kept walking around the house proclaiming that it was a miracle. I felt like I was at a revival meeting, had been struck by the spirit, and couldn't stop proclaiming "Hallelujah! We have witnessed a miracle!"

Sorry I don't have pictures for you. I would have loved to take pictures, but after two years of trying everything I didn't think the toilet cleaner would really work. And then it worked, and having only a picture of a clean bathtub without a picture of the dirty one to compare it to wouldn't mean anything.

What are some of your cleaning secrets? Please leave a comment below.

A Very Hard Week

Having a puppy has probably been one of the hardest things I've ever done. I'm seriously lacking sleep and sometimes it feels like I'm walking around in a dream. I keep telling myself that it will get better but since I'm so tired it's hard to believe. I keep telling myself I can do it, that nobody would have a dog if they didn't get better. But then she cries from 4am-5am and I wonder if I'm lying to myself. I made a commitment to take care of her and I will but I'm just so discouraged.

I'm also angry. I'm angry at media for portraying having a puppy as easy and happy all the time. They never show the accidents, never show the incessant whining, and never show how much work a puppy really is. Every movie and TV show depicts a cute small dog being friends with its owner and doing cute things constantly. Penny does cute things sometimes, between crying and going to the bathroom.

I'm also angry at the dog books I read. They didn't say anything about how long a dog will cry when you first put her in her crate. They didn't talk about being sleep deprived and feeling like a slave in your own house. They didn't give tips on how to keep a puppy quiet or how to still have time for yourself. Maybe I'll write a book about how it really is.

I can do this and I will do this. It will get better. Penny is just a baby and needs my help. It will be okay in the end.

Won't it?

Blue Skies

I've been feeling a bit under the weather with a spring cold. Today I made it outside with Biscuit to enjoy the blue sky and warmer weather. Here are a few pictures of the handsome boy.

 

I have a few new craft projects lined up but since I haven't been feeling well they've been put on the back burner. Preparing for our puppy Penny has also been taking a lot of time. Hopefully after this weekend I'll have a beautifully completed craft to show you.

Grandma Brown Minestrone

Traditional Minestrone is an Italian soup made with a hodgepodge of whatever ingredients are on hand. There are a lot of good metaphors for life but I think minestrone is one of the best. You take what have and mix it together and get a flavorful existence. Until August 2011 my knowledge of minestrone was imparted to me by The Olive Garden. Until that fateful day... During a balmy afternoon in Groton, Connecticut I had the most amazing minestrone I'd ever consumed. It contained the Lima beans of working for a Jewish family washing dishes and doing chores for twenty-five cents. The essence of tomatoes of saving those hard earned quarters to go to the Spaghetti western at the local theater. An older brother and four sisters were the oregano, basal, and rosemary that seasoned childhood days full of play. The salty broth was tears in a father's eyes when he couldn't provide enough meat for dinner during the Great Depression. The bitter eggplant of having to share a rubber ball with the landlady's daughter following the threat of eviction. There are many more unrecognizable but essential elements of this amazing soup; A hodgepodge of memories stewing together to create the minestrone of Grandma Brown's life.

Grandma Brown March 2012

Grandma Brown and her children Janet, Paul, and Ed

Grandma Brown passed away on Friday night April 13, 2012. I am so happy to have had the pleasure of meeting her and having a small sample of her minestrone.

*We really did eat minestrone while we were there, and it was amazingly delicious.

I'm late

The past few weeks I've been feeling really behind. The culture I was raised in has an unspoken timeline for life. Being born a girl, my pre-determined timeline looks something like this:

• Birth - 3 years: Normal baby stuff while wearing pink so people don't mistake me for a boy.
• 3 - 8: Playing house, tending to my baby dolls, and practicing how to be a good mommy.
• 8-12: Graduating from dolls to younger siblings 
•  12-18: Going to a young women's group and earning a necklace that says I qualify to be a good mommy. Babysitting as much as possible. Being a graceful ladylike young woman who does well in school and seeks after good things. Never going on a date until age 16 and most certainly not having a steady boyfriend .
• 18-20: Graduating from high school and attending college, not necessarily to earn a useful degree which will lead to an esteemed career, but to find a suitable husband. 
• 19-25: Marry a suitable man. Definition of a suitable man: Any young man who is worthy to take you to the temple, who holds the priesthood, and who, MOST IMPORTANTLY, has served a full time church mission because even though he may be stellar in every area of life, those accomplishments mean nothing without missionary service.
• Within 1 year of marriage: Have your first child.

The rest doesn't really have an age, just sequential.

• Have many more children, most of which you won't be able to control at the grocery store but you're trying your best and multiplying and replenishing the Earth and that's all that matters.
• Buy a house with your husband, with his money since he's the sole provider of your family's income.
• Continue raising your children.
• Marry your children off when the time comes.
• Serve a senior mission.
• Enjoy your grandchildren.

It feels like everyone my age has gotten pretty far on the timeline. I, however, have not. I have completely ignored some of the items. I have done things out of order, or I haven't met the age deadlines. Looking at this preplanned life that everyone seems to be adhering to, I feel like I'm late. Or getting left behind. Or the odd woman out. Or an outcast. Or the black sheep. The list goes on...

Only when I take a step back do I realize that while I'm not fitting the mold, I have things I love and that I am in a good place.

I have this:

My darling cat Biscuit

And this:

My amazing husband Doug

And so much more! I keep trying to remind myself that I don't have to be on the same timeline as everyone else. I only have to be in the right place for me. And I'm happy where I am. I have a college degree and even though it's not in my ideal subject, I'm proud that I earned it. Economics was hard but I pushed through. Even though I want to go back to school to be an English teacher, I'm proud that I can use my degree to earn a living for our household if I need to. While I haven't started a career yet I have a great job. It's hard to deal with picky brides some days but overall it's very rewarding. I get to help people choose their wardrobe for the happiest day of their life. I don't need kids yet. I want them someday, but not until I'm ready. I need to complete myself as a person before I create a new one. Yeah, I'm married, but not because the timeline told me it was the right time, because I fell in love with a wonderful man and we wanted to start our lives together.

After taking a step back and only comparing me to myself I realized I just have to be grateful for what I have and where I am. And for who I am. And for knowing who I am. If this were a piece of paper, I'd wrinkle up the timeline and chuck it in the garbage.