Life of Late in Pictures

I was going through the pictures on my SMART PHONE the other day and re-discovered the following pictures that tell the story of my life over the last 2 months:

This was from Stephen and my Aloha date night. We made smoothies :)

I obviously spent an exorbitant amount of money on decorations for said date night... 

This is called, my life before my smart phone. Aka, my life in the dark ages, when I either called my mom for directions at least once a week, or looked up directions on someone else's phone and then took a picture of it with my dumbphone. What a wretched existence it was. 

These are the churros that I made for an amazing Mexican (ish) Thanksgiving dinner. They turned out soooo good!

This is my student, J. He made himself into a cyborg one day for indoor recess. 

This is called, I cannot live in this frozen tundra wasteland any longer. Note the icicles on this sad, sad bicycle. That is NOT okay!

This is the "Be" Stephen and I worked on for the month of December. I was very proud of my chalk drawing and took a picture of it. I'm glad I did, because no sooner had I hung it up than Nicole backed into it and got it all over the back of her skirt. 

This is the date card I gave Stephen for our winter wonderland date night!

This was our Christmas tree this year. .........you can see why we needed a reminder to "be positive."

This is the date card I made for the present we gave to both of our parents - a date-in-a-box!  Stephen didn't know that the word "stay-cay" existed. I know I did not make it up. 

This is called, here we are at the airport and we are so excited to be up at 4:30 in the morning and about to be on our way from Indiana to Maryland!

This is the insane line for Southwest Airlines check-in. 

This is called, we did not make our plane. So we went to the Indiana Children's Museum instead! They have so many costumes you can dress up in, like these dinosaur ones. 

.....or these deep sea diver ones.....

or this turtle and butterfly option! I was thrilled. Stephen was a little embarrassed. But still a good sport!

Logan got tired. Stephen is so cute. 

Here was another embarrassing picture I asked Stephen to take. At the Indianapolis airport, there is a shop called "Forever, Heather" and I was not about to miss that golden opportunity! His hands are supposed to look like a heart. Because he hearts me. Forever. 

Life Lessons** Learned Snowboarding*

*And by "snowboarding" I mean hike-boarding.

**And by "Life Lessons" I mean musings that may not be true in every case, but are true in my experience.

Anyway, that's what I was doing this past Saturday: hike-boarding and musing. And here are the conclusions I came to that I would like to share with you:

1. Snowboarding is an activity which requires intense planning. If you were planning to go at 8:00 a.m., you might find yourself leaving Provo at 11:00 a.m. And if you are planning on going with someone who doesn't want to leave at 8:00 a.m. like you do, because that is too butt-early, you can definitely plan on leaving at 11:00 a.m. like she wants to.

2. The best way to get excited about snowboarding, when you are feeling apprehensive, is to borrow your roommate's blue snowboard and your other roommate's blue coat. That way you will match and you will want to take pictures to document it.

3. Sometimes, girls who were not even terrible at snowboarding the one time they went 4 years ago are horrifyingly awful at hike-boarding. It's a whole different beast, kids.

4. And when I say "horrifyingly awful," I mean that sometimes, those girls will face-plant within 10 seconds of the first attempt down the mountain.

5. You might be tempted, when this happens, to laugh at her and say "Hey, Santa Claus!" because she is sitting there with her board in the air and her face all covered in snow and so it would seem appropriate to say such a thing.

6. But it might not be as appropriate as you think.

7. Sometimes, "You're a hard worker and maybe someday you'll be good at snowboarding" is as good of a pep talk as you are going to get.

8.  Sometimes, boys who are really bad at teaching snowboarding and giving encouraging pep talks are really good at other things, so it's whatever.

9. When you're all the way down the mountain and someone else is all the way at the top, you might think that that is a perfect opportunity for you to pee. But no matter what you think, you're not being all that sneaky. 

9b. On that same note, you might think that the snow you are sitting on has never been touched by another creature, never spoiled by human or animal. But you could be wrong, because your snowboarding instructor might have peed on in just a week earlier in an effort to pack down the powder into a useable jump. And his roommate might have peed on it too. Which is why you shouldn't eat snow, no matter how safe you might think it is.

10. You shouldn't pick a snowball fight with someone who is stronger and faster and more experienced in the snow than you are. Because you will lose.

11. Even if you are about as close to being Shaun White as salsa is to being a flying tomato, snowboarding can be great fun. And you might be really glad you went.

Back off, Brutus

So on Wednesday this week, I wore a short-sleeved shirt. Not because I didn't have to leave my house, but because it was a beautiful day outside.

On Friday this week, I wore pants and a sweater and a coat and I am sad to say that I still turned into a Popsicle. And it's all because Brutus came to town.

Did you know that snow storms get names? The one that rolled through Utah on Friday was named Brutus. He came along and dumped on Cassidy Jane Carbaby while I sat in my school, organizing and printing and copying and cutting and gluing and rearranging and eating a free donut (or 2) and remembering that I love that little place that I work at.

By 11 in the morning, the ground and Cassidy Jane Carbaby were covered in 7 inches of snow. During lunch, I was sitting at lunch with my team and Heidi, the new practicum student, when Sherri came in and told Heidi that she could leave as soon as lunch was over to try and get home before the snow got too bad. Of course this immediately made me panic. I said something like:

"Wait! What! Guys! I don't know how to drive in the snow!"

They assured me that it was fine. I began to feel better. Then I told them that I have never really driven in snow. They encouraged me to leave and get home as soon as possible and asked if Cassidy Jane Carbaby has four-wheel drive. I panicked again because no, she does not. And no one was telling me that I would be fine any more.

"I just got my oil changed?" I said hopefully.

Apparently that doesn't help with driving in the snow....but I must have done something right, because I got home all in one piece! Cassidy Jane is a trooper.

PS: I found this little gem the other day.....

I hope you enjoy it as much as Philip did :)

Cutting Corners

I don't know if I've ever mentioned how much I love the sun (1, 2, 3 times at least) but let me just reiterate: I love the sun. I do not like it when I leave work at 6 and it's already completely gone down for the night.

It also hurts my feelings that Provo is apparently participating in the Great Freeze-out of 2011. Last night, I went to see the Zoolights at the Hogle Zoo with Jacob, Kelly and Dahl. I was wearing a ten-ta, a long-sleeved shirt, a fleece jacket, my blue pea coat, a huge big beige marshmallow coat, and gloves. I ran through the zoo, dashing from one heater to the next. I spent my time in the Reptile House thawing out. I was a little bit cold, and I feel like that's weird since I was wearing so many clothes.

Today, I left the Writing Center. It was 26* outside. The sun was gone. I walked through the barren wasteland that our campus has turned into, darting into buildings whenever I could to cut a jagged (but slightly warmer) path home. I left one building and crossed the sidewalk. I was about to step onto the frosted mulch when something stopped me.

"Cougars don't cut corners," trilled a self-righteous voice in my head. I started to turn, intending to follow the sidewalk instead of cutting across the grass. Then, another thought occurred to me. I jerked back around and stepped defiantly on the frozen patch of brown.

"Oh, I'm sorry!" I thought snappishly. "Was something about to grow here? Did I ruin a poor defenseless flower's lifelong dream of growing up in the Ice Age?"

I'm not the only one who's being affected by the drop in temperature, either. Today in the Writing Center, Bryce the Grammar Tutor said to me: "I just tutored the most stressed-out girl ever. She was constantly checking the time, and taking off her glasses and then putting them back on, and just fidgeting and sighing....it was stressing me out just sitting by her!" I thought to myself, Hmmm. I wonder how that would be. I've never tutored someone who was that stressed out. I wonder how I would react? Would I be patient and nice? Or would I get snappy?

Lucky for me, the very next person on the list would have made Bryce's tutee look like Colbie Caillat - the picture of calm and unruffled. Meaning I didn't have long to wait before all of these questions were answered. I would be patient and nice in such a situation! I would have the patience of Job! I would not snap. I would be encouraging throughout the entire thing. I would even invite the drama queen back for more.

This was a boy in desperate need of some Vitamin D. As we talked, he ran his fingers through his hair, dropped his face into his hands, and reassured me multiple times that he hadn't been putting off the paper and it was just a really hard assignment for him. I wanted to tell him that it was a hard assignment because he was trying to write an opinion editorial and his teacher wanted him to write an issues paper, but I honestly thought he was going to cry if I told him that. I suggested he add some statistics to support some of his ideas.

"WHAT!?" he screamed, flipping the desk over. "You want me to bounce on my head all the way to China and back?"

"No," I calmly replied. "I am simply suggesting that you add some support from outside sources. Please, have a seat. Can I get you a cushion? No? Well how about I just write your conclusion?"

Okay so maybe that's not exactly how the conversation went, but you get the idea.

And all because the sun couldn't be bothered to bless us with its kiss for more than 5 hours a day.

Holy Mole-y!

My body hates my moles. For whatever reason, my skin has launched a full-frontal attack on these little guys. One by one, a white circle forms around my moles and they get smaller and lighter until they are completely gone without a trace. Sometimes, when people notice one of them, I say it's a hicky, because that's kind of what it looks like. Only, it's a lighter spot of skin rather than a darker spot of skin.

A mole on my neck was my body's first victim. I didn't think much of it....I've never been particularly fond of my moles. In fact, when I was younger I was glad that we weren't allowed to wear bikinis because I was so self-conscious of one particular mole right next to my belly button. It's not like it's abnormally shaped or hairy; it's just your average, run-of-the-mill brown splotch, but for whatever reason, I used to thank my lucky stars that belly shirts were no longer in style because of it. Anyway, I didn't mind when the mole on my neck disappeared forever. I still didn't mind when similar white circles had formed around four of my other moles and the process of erasing them from my skin had begun. I mean, they weren't doing anything to me. I wasn't suffering any funny side effects, so why should I care?

It was my parents who insisted that I see a dermatologist, anxiously expressing their concerns about cancer and gangrene all the way up until I was seated in the office of a friendly dermatologist with wide eyes and shiny pink lips and nails. I showed her my moles and answered her questions. Her diagnosis was quick and definitive: the moles were called halo moles, and there wasn't any problem with what they were doing. She explained that sometimes, when people have a really good immune system, their body just decides to attack and get rid of their moles. It's not a problem, really, and it is in no way related to cancer. She did say, however, that this happens to very few people, and the people who do get halo moles usually only get one. Sometimes a person will get two. I have five or six, and she said she had never seen or heard of anyone getting so many. She concluded that I must have a really hyperactive immune system. I was very pleased with this diagnosis.

And now we come to the point of this post. Why, if my immune system is so fantastic that it can take time out of its busy schedule to address such a minute cosmetic concern as my harmless little moles, can my body not fight a common cold?

Today I woke up at about 9:30 in the morning, which is fine, since I didn't have class until 12. Then I realized that I was coughing and snotting like an entire waiting room of a doctor's office and went back to sleep until about 3:30 this afternoon. It was a fitful sleep that I woke up from several times throughout the day, feeling disoriented, short of breath, and clammy. Hello? Why is getting rid of my moles a more pressing issue than this? I think my immune system does not actually have its priorities straight.

I think I should be better by tomorrow, at least better enough to go to school. I really hate being sick; I think it is a phenomenal waste of time, and you don't even look cute. There is one upside though that I just discovered: when I am sick, I turn into some sort of culinary genius. (Which is really too bad, because you probably shouldn't be handling other people's food when you're sick, since who wants your germs, anyway?) But today, I made a coddled egg without even realizing it. Yeah. Maybe I am disproportionately proud of this, but "coddled egg" just sounds so domestic to me.