Unicorns and pansies

... And those were Danielle's famous last words before entering the MTC. She now currently resides in a bubble within a bubble within a bubble. And boy, is that bubble bound to be popped the second she feels the need to use a public squat toilet upon her arrival in the Phillipines.

I am sure that all of you brilliant Danielle Lyons blog-followers have been able to deduce that Danielle is no longer managing her own blog. You may have come to this conclusion by compiling several pieces of evidence that suggest it to be so. For example...

1) Danielle never speaks in 3rd person. She is not that arrogant.
2) Danielle knows how to post on a blog. I do not. So the fact that I may be writing this now and it has the chance of not even showing up on the internet anywhere where it is supposed to may also lead you to discern that Danielle is currently unavailable to help me with this technological trial.
3) Danielle is not allowed to use the internet. Or the radio. Or the phone. Or pants. Or steak. Because she is in the MTC.
4) Whoever is currently writing Danielle's blog in her absence has impeccable grammar and flawless spelling. That should have given it away immediately.

Although I will be managing this account and sharing secret snippets from Danielle's emails and letters for all her followers to see over the duration of these next 18 months, I have chosen to remain anonymous. My anonymity provides the opportunity for the reader to focus on the main character of this story. It also allows me to share most embarrassing things about the main character of this story without her ever finding out who it is that might have hacked into her most precious blog.

So... stay tuned. The toilet squatting, fish eating, endless sweating adventure has just begun. Calling all unicorns and pansies. Your assistance will be required.

That poet is dead...

“A man of my acquaintance once wrote a poem called "The Road Less Traveled", describing a journey he took through the woods along a path most travelers never used. The poet found that the road less traveled was peaceful but quite lonely, and he was probably a bit nervous as he went along, because if anything happened on the road less traveled, the other travelers would be on the road more frequently traveled and so couldn't hear him as he cried for help. Sure enough, that poet is dead.” 

-Lemony Snicket

I'm Leaving and Never Coming Back Again

(ok, only for 18 months but still)

I Will Miss

Sleeping In

Good Long Chats with my Sisters

FB Vents with Friends

Cafe Rio

Panda Express

Normal Food in General 

Mi Familia 

Wearing Pants

School

The English Language

My Friends

Sanitary Non-Squat  Toilets, People that Wash their Hands

But When It's the End of My Mission...

I Will Miss 

Having a Set Schedule

Good Long Chats with My Companions

Writing Letters

Fish

Rice

Strange Food in General  

Aking Mga Filipino Sa Pamilya

Pretty Dresses

Studying the Gospel in Such Depth 

My New Friends

All the Funny Moments 

I chose the road lest traveled in hopes some day all will follow. 

The Case of the Undefeated Lawyer

Before Law and Order and even before Matlock... there was another super-human lawyer, one of course that never lost and always caught the real murderer. Perry Mason. I don't know what it is about boys and Perry Mason (and Pawn Stars... but that will have to wait for another day), but my padre watches Perry Mason every night after the news and since living at home I have too... half-heartedly. It is really hard to tell characters apart when everything is in black and white. Through an (kind of)  intense study of this show I have discovered the real meaning of the law. I will now share this knowledge with you.

What I have learned from Perry Mason...

1. All the legal terminology. 

I object! (Me too!)

Counsel is leading the witness! (Blind leading the blind)

This evidence is irrelevant, inconsequential, and impartial. (Ok, I totally made up that last word, but it was another 'I" word) 

Did you or did you NOT murder this person? (Get straight to the point)

2. With a name like Hamilton Burger... you were born for failure.

3. Beware the seductive women. Whether she comes in the form of a wife, girlfriend, secretary (sexist stereotype), or lover, it doesn't matter... they usually did it. But don't worry, that chauvinistic pig of a man, who would never love them and who is now dead, had it coming! 

4. If it wasn't the seductive woman, it was the seedy looking man, who secretly either lent or embezzled  money to or from the deceased. Or was secretly in love with the seductive woman. Love triangles and money, the root of all evil.

5. It's ok to bend the rules if your client is innocent. (Hey, Mason is a lawyer, not a saint. What'd you expect?)

6. If you say, "Over my dead body!" or anything to that effect, be prepared for your character to be found dead in the next scene. You asked for it.

7. If you happen to run into the scene of the murder, don't run away or try to hide evidence... Call the police!

8. Oh, and don't touch anything, stupid!

9, Not following 7 or 8 can lead to your arrest for a crime you did not commit. 

10. So, if you DID happen stumble across a crime scene, put your fingerprints ALL over  the murder weapon, and then promptly ran away without reporting a dead body, just make sure Perry Mason is your lawyer... he only takes the innocent ones. 'Cause he never looses. You wouldn't want to ruin his perfect record.

Believe in God

Believe in God; believe that he is, 

and that he created all things, 

both in heaven and in earth:

 believe that he has all wisdom and all power,

both in heaven and in earth; 

believe that man doth not comprehend all the things 

which the Lord can comprehend. 

-Mosiah 4:9 

How Do You Do That James Bond Thing? OW!

"A friend is someone who knows all about you and still loves you."

-Elbert Hubbard 

So I've been having a heavy dose of nostalgia lately. Maybe it's because all my friends are in college and I am not right at the moment. Maybe because one of my best friends is currently living in Jerusalem and getting emails from her brings FLOODS of awesome and awkward memories back. Maybe it's because I just rediscovered freshmen and sophomore years' quote walls. Maybe it's because remembering the past makes me excited for the future.

In any case this WHOLE post is about memories that include Lottie. We've been friends for exactly two and a half-ish years... exactly. Freshmen year is another testament to me that God's hand has been leading my life. How else can you explain randomly signing up for housing and ending up meeting five of your best friends ever. (I have a lot of best friends, if you haven't figured that out by now). The first time I met Lottie I knew we were going to be friends. Our friendship can be logically categorized into seven areas...

1. Grocery Shopping
While I knew Lottie and I were bound to be friends, our first bonding moment was at Wal-Mart. It was just Court, Lottie, and me. Court is a very slow and indecisive shopper and Wal-Mart is a big store. So what did we do? Pestered Court together, found crazy outfits, and all-in-all reeked havoc. Insistent friendship.

We could never go to Macey's without coming back with a story and some chocolate chips. There was the time we payed for 60 cent ice cream cones with only pennies... and then the time we payed with a credit card. Not sure which time was more embarrassing.  Then there was the time we were waiting for another roommate at the front of the store, when we kept having to move to get out of people's way. The following conversation ended up on the famous quote wall...

Sorry... we're always in the way.

-me

Yeah....

-Randi Macey's Worker

To be fair to him, we hadn't even hear me and was answering someone else's question... it was just classic timing. 

The Creamery... so many memories. Midnight runs right before it closed, running from our gimpy roommate because we didn't want to buy her bread, and fake kissing stories that our roommates believed until the very last day of freshmen year. Classic.

2. People Watching in the Music Section in the Library

It should say studying...but...yeah... Anyway, we spent so much time there we could almost predict when people would show up. The mushy-recently-married-couple. The-worker-that-one-of-us-might-have-had-a-crush-on-and-it-wasn't-me. The-kid-in-our-ward-that-we-never-built-up-the-courage-to-talk-to. And many, many more. Every time Little Women or Rachmaninoff would come on, we would stop studying and just listen. And when we had been there waaaay too long we would chat over facebook or gmail chat. Come on! We were desperate! Oh, and have you ever eaten a PB&J sandwich and chocolate chips in front of the library security guard? Can you say food Nazis? Very tricky business.

3. Friday Night Activities

We usually ended up being the only ones home on Friday nights, so we made our own entertainment. Chick-flick marathons. Redecorating the apartment according to the season or holiday. Dollar movies. Window shopping at the mall. Getting lost looking for the Springville Wal-Mart. (How the heck did we end up on the wrong side of the free-way?) Making crepes or Better then... you know... cake. Eating Ben and Jerry's Half-Baked ice cream.  I think almost everything we did included ice cream. 

4. Interpretative Dancing 

Yeah... Finals really take it out of you.

5. Funny Quotes 

Just some of my favorites...

YOU'RE EATING POP-TARTS? (I swear she leaped up all of the stair in a single bound) 

Oh, I wish I was pregnant... because then I would have a reason my stomach is expanding.

Do you remember when we almost died here? I knew my time had come. (Ok, we weren't THAT close) 

There goes my life! 

(I really am not out to kill her, I promise!)

Danielle, I'm going to change my mind 

in about 10 seconds!

Now we'll all take turns beatting Danielle.

 (The violence goes both ways.)

If you ask me NOT to do something, I'm going to OBVIOUSLY do it.

(The title is also a famous quote of Lottie's. She was trying to be a spy and tumbled into the wall...) 

6. Story Time

Every day when we would come home we would always have to tell each other the funny stories that happened to us or when ever we would run into a cute guy. Most of our conversations started out, "Oh, my gosh! Guess what happened today!" We still email  back and forth anything semi-comical that happens to us. I always get giddy when I see I have an email from Lottie. Sometimes I squeal...

7. Late Night Chats

Freshman year Lottie had a designated space in Court and I's room. It was even taped off.... only Lottie could set there. Anyone else... pain of death! All three of us would stay up way too late and talk about everything. From boys to the gospel to stupid professors. My mom was actually kinda worried when we decided to become room roommates.... she was afraid neither of us would ever sleep. Ummm.... about that...

Lottie has decided to go on a mission. She will be awesome, because she already is. I mean, she's my friend right? Besides that, she will rock where ever she gets called to. While I am extremely excited for her, I am also sad. This means it will be more then two years before we can hangout again. But can you imagine the reunion?

"I have such a funny story to tell you!"  

  

lol...How Can You Laugh at a Drowning Man?

A day without laughter is a day wasted. 

- Charles Chaplin 

Q: What do you get when you cross a long weekend with my family? 

A: Knee-slapping inside jokes...

...That I feel the need to inform you of. If you laugh because you get them you are either A) part of my family B) know my family REALLY well or C) just laughing because everyone else is doing it. What you will think of my family afterwards... I can't really say. Identities have been kept a secret to protect the guilty.

Only YOU can prevent wildflowers!

First off, he's a king that has 20 wives and 30 concubines and then he tries to make a move on you... talk about drama!

Just spit it out man!

I need a band-aid and some neospern. (No, I did not misspell that... it's how it came out.)

Person A: We were giving free paint but we don't want you use it because it is light blue. That's just not the color for an 11 year old boy.

Person B (Who happens to be a man): My room is light blue... and I'm not joking.

Person A: I don't even know what to say to that...

Person B: I'm just gonna stand here and blush...

Person A: Well, I think we all know what color we're going to paint the room!

WHO'S TALKING ABOUT CHILD NUMBER 2?????

Is this tradition?

No, it's just us being weird.

You plucked the whole turkey!?!?!

Only one feather per blessing.

Tripdaphane... tripdaphone... triptofin...

Try Tryptophan.

Or we could just socialize.

We are spending our thanksgiving afternoon proving a statistical known fact. Wanna join?

He's just grateful I'm not plucking him.

What if the paperclip had been outside the cup the whole time? 

The scriptures warn us about the attitude of, "Eat, drink, and be merry!"

And what did we do yesterday?

Basically ate, drank, and...slept? 

Who needs TV when you have a family like mine! 

Thanksgiving Happiness!

I would maintain that thanks is the highest form of thought; and that gratitude is happiness doubled by wonder. 

G.K. Chesterton

I Am Grateful For...

My Family 

My Roommates and Friends

 My Neighbor Kids... and Kids in General 

The Temple and the Blessings Found Within 

My Country and Freedom and the
Grand Experience of Discovering Another Culture 

And Most of All, My Savior, Redeemer, and Mediator Jesus Christ.

Silent Gratitude Isn't Much Use To Anyone.

-G.B. Stern

Beware of Chewy Water

“True terror is to wake up one morning and discover that your 

high school class is running the country.” 

 -Kurt Vonnegut

Or your whole Jr. High class works at the local grocer. 
Whoa, they got far in life. 

Today I adventured into that lovely city called Magna, which in Latin means great or large. Pause... just hold one a sec, while I go laugh in the corner uncontrollably. Breath, breath. Oh right, I'm back. If anyone knows ANYTHING about  Magna they know there is nothing great or large about it. It was once a thriving mining town but is now turning into something that resembles a mix between a ghost town and a government housing development. All it needs is for a tumbleweed to roll through the middle of town. Ok, it's not that bad, but I am only exaggeration a little.

Don't you see the need for tumbleweed?

No, this whole post is not about bashing Magna. It's about three years of... cough... sputter... choke, choke... fond memories that took place in Magna, where you have to chew your water. Or in other words, Jr high school. While running errands today, I drove past good old Matheson Jr High, and the memories came flooding in, some of them that have been repressed for years. 

We were the Tigers and or colors were
Green, Blue and Yellow... go figure

It is state law that a school has some many fire and lock down drills. Let's just say Matheson never had to schedule one... they just happened... naturally. Let's time travel back almost seven years, to eight grade. PE class to be exact. Here I am running the timed mile (cause that is all you do in PE, is run the timed mile, while the teacher sits on his lazy butt) when the fire alarm goes off... for the second time that year. By this time we all know the drill and head for the nearest exit. And wait in the back parking lot... and wait... and wait. By this time PE is done (thank goodness for that!) and we are halfway through the next period. And so much that rule about keeping with your class. It's just a mad free for all or runny, screaming preteens. When they finally let us back in, the story filtered through the students fast... faster then the teachers knew what was happening.  Two girls in the bathroom. And the plot thickens. With lighters. Who get this genius idea to put them right next to, what they thought was, the automated sprinkling system. Where did all this brilliance come from? But it gets even better. These were not water sprinklers, these were black foam dispensers. The kind that sucks the oxygen out of the air and causes less water damage. But here's the clincher... the black foam dyes everything. Clothes. Skin. Hair. The Culprits. Even if they hadn't been dyed black from head to toe, I still wonder how they thought they were going to get away if they had been being soaking wet... Regardless, they were caught pretty quick, and I got out of two full periods of class. Thank you stupid girls. 

Then there were countless garbage cans that somehow spontaneously combusted. 

Next on the list of required drills... lock down. This one was actually because of outside forces and not because of some preteen who's head had not been fully connected. Ninth grade was when the immigration debate became extremely heated in my area. Or the first time a actually noticed.   

There was a huge protest going on around my school. People were actually coming on school grounds and throwing rocks and banging on the windows. Many students who's parents were immigrants or immigrants themselves didn't show up to school that day, and many more walked out of school to join the protest. We had police at every entrance and to have special clearance to get in and out for seminary. It was one of the most terrified I have ever been. And an eye opener. For the first time I realized that no debate had a wrong side or a right side. Just normal human beings stuck in bad situations, trying to do their best. Everything became more grey to me that day. 

While maybe my math, science, and reading skills suffered from going to Matheson, my street smarts increased and my empathy and understanding for other expanded. I now know how to identify the smell marijuana and the look someone has when they are high. But I also know intense pain is usually the reason and the outcome for drug use. I now know the colors and other identifying makers for most of the major gangs in Utah. But I also know the human feeling of wanting to belong somewhere, anywhere, is a strong pull and leaves a desperate void that needs to be filled.  As Albert Einstein once said, "never let... schooling interfere... with education." So, my schooling lacked, but I sure did get an education.  

They see me mowin'... my front lawn

"True friends are always together in spirit."

- Anne of Green Gables

Here I am sitting, watching the BYU vs USU game realizing I never documented my amazing weekend trip to visit my longtime friend Susan, up in Logan. But better late then never. Susan has been my friend from before birth and I mean that literally. In the Spirit World Sus and I were best friends so we made a pact that birth would not separate us. So we put our little angel skills together and made sure her dad didn't get the job in Idaho and mine didn't get the one in Wisconsin. I mean, we were that good! We were only separated for six months when we both sensed each other in a sacrament meeting. So we did what any other babies would have done that shared brainwaves... we bawled. (just so you know, we still share brainwaves) And promptly had to be taken out to the mother's room, where our moms met and found out we were related. So not only is Susan one of my best friends, she is my fourth cousin. We've been inseparable since. Even through two ward changes and going to two different elementary schools. Our friendship even lasted through the interstate rival of BYU and USU (hence the reminder I needed to write this) although I think USU sees it of more of a rivalry then BYU does... just saying. Hope Susan will still love me after that comment. :)

Anyways, we've gone back and forth to visit each other and it was my turn to enter into the 'hurd.' My first full day there we did some porch sitting. Which constitutes sitting on the porch and waiting for cool  people to come and talk to you. It really works! You sit... on the porch... and boys come and talk to you. Why did I not think of this before! It's brilliant, brilliant, brilliant! I realized how much I missed the whole collage experience. It was great.

That evening we went to the USU fight and a hockey game broke out. And let me tell you... I have never seen so many bitter fans. They weren't even playing their imaginary rival BYU. It was Montana State for goodness sake!  One of their favorite chants is, "Stupid, Stupid, Stupid!" A player got ejected from the game... has that EVER happened in the history of hockey? I thought no matter who bad your 'foul' (I am showing my lack of knowledge on the subject of hockey) you just got put in the 'time out' plenty box for 10 minutes like a bad little boy, and then you could come back in and play? Well, you thought wrong, Danielle. Anyway, I went with Rebecca, my other friend that is also roomies with Susan, because Susie-q was on a date! So of course when Susan and her date sat three rows in front of us, what did Becca and I do? Threw candy wrappers at them. Real mature. And then took funny face pictures. So needless we turned into those annoying girls that real sports fans hate. You know the ones that talk and laugh through the whole game? The ones that distract the avid hockey fan because we have no clue what it going on. Yeah, that was us.

Before the game. How pretty! 

At the game... how pretty?

After the game, Susan was still on her date, so Becca and I had to find some age appropriate way to entertain ourselves until she came home.  So we wrote all of the lyrics to that classic song, White N' Nerdy on every single mirror in their apartment. The bathroom, the hallway, each bedroom and even Susan's little personal makeup mirror. Yes, we did. It took us almost two hours but was so worth it.

Oh, Weird Al... how we love your brilliance 

And this one too!

Then another classic college tradition. A Beto's run at midnight and talking about the date while eating our spoils!

 Saturday consisted of getting up late and watching the pink bible version of Pride and Prejudice in our PJs. Then off to half of a football game. Perfect recipe for a fall Saturday! Afterwards that high adventure began. Susan and I went rock climbing with two guys from her ward. You know that phrase what goes up must come down? Well, I have this talent of 'coming down' before I even get up. That's right I biffed it even before I made it to the rock. This consisted of me sliding on my belly down the trail almost all the way back to the road. It was a good thing Becca talked me into changing into a t-shirt. One of Susan's friends had to help me up. Oh, embarrassment. And of course I am prideful but there was really no way out of the situation but to... gasp... accept a boy's help. Curse my inner feminist!  It turned into a really funny situation about how he really wanted to hold my hand, and succeeding and me checking out his butt. Yeah, don't ask, it just happened. But guess what? After my fall, I actually went up! On a rock. In real nature. I really did, although I have no pictures to prove it. Sad day. Susan and I were just so excited to go we forgot our camera. Going down the trail was fun too, cause we had no light and it was pitch black. When we finally got down, one of the boys announced that he realized he had a flash light the whole time! Silly boy! It was classic. Four people struggling... through the dark... over real rocks... in real nature... just to find out they had a light the whole time. Oh, well. After gettin' dirty and feeling like a boy, Susan and I decided we needed to have some balance in our lives and do something girly. So we grabbed Becca and went to the mall to buy smelly lotion and pretty jewelry. And because I was visiting and it was my last normal day, I went to the mall in my 'naturally sandblasted jeans' and the grunge look. So girly...

Not me... not even close. But that is about as high up as I got.
 Just wanted to give you a visual

Thanks to Rebecca Black I now know that after Saturday, Sunday comes afterwooords... which for the Mormon community can sometime be the busiest day. Church, dinner group, making treats for ward prayer, going to ward pray, watching a mormon movie, and staying up until 3 in the morning talking about boys. Yeah, just another Sunday for a stereotypical single Mormon girl. Oh, and get this... the lesson during RS/Priesthood was on dating and the law of chastity. Typical. I now remember why I chose to go to the family ward this summer/fall. I had to go home the next day and Susan had to go back to class. Why, real world? Why? But it was just the break I needed!

So it is the end of the game and BYU lost, but no worries Susan and I's friendships is still intact. :D

But You Can't Pick Your Friends Nose...

"Isn't a bit unnerving that doctors call what they do 'Practice'?" 

-George Carlin

Yeah, just a tad...

This might seem a bit redundant but here's another doctor story for ya. So, I'm sorry if you think you stumbled upon some 80-year-old blogging grandma that only blogs about her aches and pains and how her grandchildren are better then your's, it's just that so many funny things happen when I go to the doctor. It brings me some sort of sick joy... after the fact. Remember how I mentioned a gap in my childhood? No, not the one about never seeing Disney's Cinderella until I was 17. The one about my inability to swallow. Yes! That one! Well, still no cure. So that equals another test! Which constitutes shoving a tube down my nose and into my stomach. Really people? Isn't there and easier way? To which the evil doctor answers, "Mwahahaha, yes but THIS, this way brings me some sort of sick joy (maybe I should change my major) so we do it my way! Mwahahahah!" 

BUT...

Of course nothing can go normal for me when I go to the doctors, it's just physically impossible. Blood pressure... simple enough procedure. I can do it myself and I'm not even a nurse. Ummm, I'm pretty sure the cuff is suppose to be tight but I'm also pretty sure I should be able to feel my fingers. Just an observation. To which the tech responds, "This has never happened before." What a shocker! It took a good ten minutes and many cuff burns to find out that my veins were pumping just fine. Just don't show em' a needle and no one gets hurt. Except, I almost wish there had been a needle involved but no, dear readers, I was awake the whole time. 

But my nose was numb. You know how hard it is to breath and to keep your bogies  in check? Almost up there with Stats... almost. So once my nose is on longer under my control, they stuck the tube in. I know there must be a hole in your nose or you wouldn't be able to breath, but come on people have any of you found your's? I know ALL of you have picked your nose at sometime, there's no denying it. So this mysterious hole.  They found it, but then they couldn't find my throat. Remember that song, "The hip bone's connected to the thigh bone. The thigh bone's connected to the knee cap." Yeah that one. Apparently, these people never learned the verse that went, "The nose cavity it connected to the throat." Or maybe it never clicked. Or maybe that's way I can't swallow... I have no throat! That would cause some problems. Just minor... no big deal problems. 

No worries, the medical people (I really don't know if they were nurses or techs) did what they always do, call in reinforcements. So the specialist came in and guess what? He use to live in my ward. It's one thing to have a complete stranger stick something up your nose, but someone you know? It's a little strange. You know that phrase 'you can pick your friends, and you can pick your nose, but you can't pick your friends nose..." 

I guess getting it into the nose is the hard part and after that it's easy... except when you are a medical mystery. Well, the man from my past solved the problem and the tube was well on it's way to my stomach. Then I had to sit there for ten minutes while the tube warmed up to my body's temperature. When you have a tube sticking out your nose, you learn some pretty interesting stuff. Life when you breath, your nose twitches. When you swallow, your nose twitches. When you laugh (cause going to the doctor always makes me free thinking and free speaking, which causes me to laugh. Someone's got to laugh at my jokes), your nose twitches. And Twitching causes the tube to move up and down. Oh, the comments I would have made if I had been a teenage boy... oh, wait, I did make them. I think this immaturity comes from the fact my voice still cracks. Yes, I made comments about bogies and elephants... the whole package. Oh, Danielle...

Then the fun part... pulling the tube back up. This includes having one nurse counting backwards the centimeters as it comes back up my nose. You too can go to nursing school and learn how to count backwards. (Don't worry, I'm not bashing nurses. This comment came from one of their own, and it was funny so I swiped it.) I  could only swallow when they told me I could. You know how hard it is NOT to swallow when you are told you can't? It's like being told don't think of purple elephants. What do you think of? Purple elephants. Don't swallow... dang... I just did. Well, eventually the whole tube came out and it was all done. With only four swallows and one laugh attack marked on my record. It was rewarded with the best PB&J sandwich I've ever had in my life. It's amazing what tastes good after hours of not eating. 

This should be my last aches and pains complaint... but no promises. Anything funny is free game.

Capture Mr. Sandy Claws

La, la, la, la, la, la, la,  

I still wonder what time of year I should watch this movie. Hum, oh well.

            October has always been my favorite month. I mean think about it… the best people are born in this month, UEA, fall leaves, and of course HALLOWEEN! What other holiday do you get to dress up and get candy without having to give the givers anything in return? I mean during Christmas you have to give gifts to all the people that give you gifts. What is up with that? This selfish mentality really only lasts until you own a house. Halloween becomes a little more about giving once you become an adult.

            Some of my favorite memories are going to DI with my mom and coming up with a completely unique costume and then going out with just my dad and my sisters to get CANDY, CANDY, CANDY! But then Junior High hit and it wasn’t cool to ‘dress up.’ Curse growing up! But then something else magical happened… college. All of the sudden it was cool to  be something for Halloween. My first year of college I was still kinda in the ‘I-think-I’m-in-jr-high-and-I-can’t-dress-up-because-I-am-so-dang-self-conscious’ mentality. So I put on a cowboy hat and called it good. But it was still an awesome Halloween. We went to my roommate’s house to help with their family tradition of making homemade donuts and rootbeer for the whole neighborhood. It was so fun! We watched Hitchcock movies and ate candy and donuts until we were sick and, although none of us wanted to admit it, a little scared. Needless to say none of us sleep very well that night, but then again who ever does on the night when the magical and sinister are right at the edge of reality.

Lame costume, Danielle. Lame.

            Flash forward to the next year. The year of the epically cool FHE family. We were all really good friends and became like a real family. So, when we all heard there was going to be a custom contest at our ward party, we decided to all win. How did we accomplish this? By raiding DI, again. Who knew you could recreate the whole cast from Toy Story from some cast offs, face paint, cardboard, and pink spandex tights someone got on their mission? Let’s just say we whipped everyone back into place. No one stood a chance.

Much Better! Aren't we all so cute! 

           This year the epic just kept coming. My brother-in-law looks like Mr. Incredible and has the legit costume. So, my sister raided my mom’s closet and DI (are you sensing a theme in this family when it comes to Halloween?) and came up with a complete Elastigirl costume for herself and a Jack-Jack outfit for Mari. My family is incredible.

            But not to be out shadowed by our sister’s family, my other sister and I came up with an equally incredible idea… Minions! That’s right, we found everything we need, at DI of course, to transform ourselves into those cute little minions from Despicable Me. I think we did pretty well.

Whaaaa...?

Next year I think I’ll dress up as a sister missionary. :D

Rolling Veins…A Good Name for a Band

Veins Collapsed, Puncture Wound, and Bruised Arm are good too.

          I also thought about adding Popped IV too, but that was just stretching it. I cannot in good conscience take complete credit for the name Rolling Veins, that was my sister’s idea. Did you think I was going to give credit to Rolling Stones? Pff… you were wrong. My sister is kind of a medical novelty in the fact that every time (and I mean EVERY time) she goes to the doctor she hears at least once, “I’ve never seen this before!” Yeah, that really builds your confidence in the medical professionals. They could really write a whole medical journal on her strange medical behaviors. Besides the fact that we have the same parents and lived in the same house together for 13 years, we have something else in common, our veins. It seems that both of our veins stopped growing about five years before the rest of us did. And they also move. Hence the rolling veins. I cannot tell you how many times I have gotten my blood drawn and the phlebotomist (yeah, I have to look up how to spell that) missed my vein, because my vein was just feeling so trapped and just need a change of scenery. So, it went on a temporary vacation. Veins do not use airplanes or even trains. (vein train… that’s funny!) They are very independent and roll where ever they go.

             Anyways, why all this background info? Because these medical mysteries came into play this week, once again. I had recently gone to get a basic physical, because I will be spending the next 18 months in a place that uses squat toilets, do you really think I’m gonna want to go to the doctor over there? No. So a basic check up included some blood work. Yeah, as expected they missed on the first arm and had to call in someone else in to find a vein. Then the vein they finally did find collapsed. Really? Every time! Add two more nasty bruises to my battered arm. And a scar! What? Yeah, they totally cut me with one of the needles and I have a nice little scar on the inside of my arm. That’s new. So the bruise barely fades into this yellow color and my mom tells me I have an appointment with some specialist about my swallowing problem. Apparently I never learned how to swallow correctly. Another hole in my childhood education.

            They have to knock you out and then stick this camera thing down your throat to see if they can find the problem. So, I’m lying on the hospital bed thinking how hungry I am (I had not eaten in over 14 hours. Apparently they do not want you throwing up on them, I don’t know why) when the nurse comes in with the IV. Oh, yeah another needle!  You mean you can’t find a big enough vein? Shocker! Oh, you’re gonna try that one? Yeah, that didn’t feel right. So I know that getting a IV is not suppose to be pain free, but that one killed!  And then proceeded to bleed. Now, maybe I am mistaken but I distinctly remember something about IV putting fluid into your body, not taking them out. After some ‘rearranging’ as they say or ‘digging’ as I put it, they declared the IV to be place. I am then wheeled into the procedure room. And then! Guess what! The IV popped, which means stopped working. My vein had once again held a revolution and in protest stopped producing blood. So now I have three nurses working on me to try and get in another IV. Did you get that? Three. Count them… one, two, three. How many nurses does it take to find my vein? Three, plus one doctor, and 15 minutes. The doctor, trying to make a joke, stated, “Where did all your veins go?” I think that is a question for you doctor, not me. That was my last thought, because the next thing I know, I am waking up back in the recovery room and my mom is talking to me. I guess I woke up in a better mood then I went under in, because I woke up chuckling to myself. My mom then explained that my muscle connecting my esophagus and my stomach is smaller than normal. Which I then cracked the joke, “Like my veins?” Laugh, laugh, laugh! Yes, Danielle, your esophagus muscle stopped growing about the same time your veins did. I few minutes lapsed, I think, remember I am still under the influence, when I asked my mom what was wrong with me. I had apparently forgotten all about our early conversation. My mom told me the same information and guess what? I cracked the same joke! I am so funny!  And so uninhibited. Everything that popped into my head popped out my mouth. I wondered, yes out loud, if this is what a couple of beers felt like. Many of you by now are thinking, “Isn’t that they way she always acts?” You would all be amazed at the number of things I filter. Amazed.

            When I got home I took off the bandage and found six different puncture wounds and a swollen and painful bruise. Purple, to match my faded yellow one. I looked like a druggy. Anyone that didn’t know me would think I shot up every day. Don’t worry, I don’t need to do drugs, I can just go to the doctor for that. 

Stress, It's A Killer, Sir...

Yes, my inspirational quote of the day comes from Bartok, the bat on Anastasia… very profound.

Anyways, it’s a known fact that as humans we create 85% of our own stress. That’s a lot!  (It is also a known fact that 65% of all statistics are made up on the spot… yeah…) While I did barely pass stats twice, I did pass and I now know ‘a lot’ is in between ‘quite a bit’ and ‘a bunch’. Somewhere in there.  I came to this conclusion by objectively observing others. A true author and scientist never completely immerse themselves into their target population in fear their validity will be lost and therefore compromise the results and findings. Did you get any of that? Cause I didn’t. It’s true, sometimes I throw big words together and teachers give me an A, cause if it is so deep they don’t understand it, it must be good! And sometimes I just write blah blah blah in the middle of the page to see what teachers actually read my papers. Straying, yes I am straying. Back to stress… it’s a killer! So why do we do it? I don’t know.

What sparked this whole thought process (which in turn stressed me out, cause I couldn’t find an answer), was a co-worker. She was replacing me and working the grave. She had to tell me all about this Halloween costume she was working on for her daughter. How she was sewing on the fringe, gluing on the strips and would have to sew it by hand once she got home. As I was sitting there half listing to her (give me a break! I had just finished me shift and really wanted to go home) I thought, “Wow, this is a lot (there’s that word again) of work. She could have easily have gone to DI and found something just as cute and spent WAY less time and money.”  So, why? I still have no idea.

Maybe it was because my mom hated to sew or we didn’t have that much money growing up but we always got out Halloween costumes from DI. And if I do say so myself, I always had cute stuff! At least I could claim I didn’t have the same costume as anyone else in the school. STRAYING! I know, I can’t help it!

(By the way, if you are waiting for a grand and profound solution to get rid of stress, it’s not coming so don’t hold your breath or you might pass out. But then all your problems will go away for awhile, until you start breathing again, so maybe that is the solution. How about you do it and then tell me how it goes… after you have regained consciences)

Just so everyone knows, I thought of that funny comment about loosing consciousness and then found this picture.

So, what it the biological foundation for stress, if it just keeps getting us closer and closer to death? Ok, that was a little melodramatic, but my point? Made. Biology behind stress, that sounds like a great title for one of those self-help books. I’m I stressing you out by straying?

Why can’t we just stop it? (not the straying, but the stressing) Why can’t we as my mother always says do it, “fast, easy, simple, cheap!” Why do we as humans do things the hard way and why is it that when we find a simpler way to do it we are considered lazy or loafers? Human nature. So my advice, be like me and JUST STOP IT! That’s right stop stressing, just do it, I dare you! Mwahahaha! Come over to the dark side of the lazy loafers who work so hard at doing nothing, so they don’t have to work hard. Huh?

Do you remember those horrible French novels they made you all read in AP English, you know, the stream of consciousness ones? Did anyone have a déjà vu moment right there? I sure did! So in summation, stress kills, so don’t do it and it is physically impossible for me to keep on one train of thought…