So, the other day I had an apple as a snack. It was kind of hard, not just crisp like regular apples, but I didn't think too much of it. Until about 2-3 hours later, when I got the worst stomach cramps ever. Literally, it got to the point where I was worried that maybe my appendix had burst or something. I kept feeling my face and forehead, trying to tell if I had a fever. I felt pretty normal, but then who knows what is normal when your appendix bursts, besides really smart people that go to medical school? Not many people. I thought about Googling appendicitis symptoms but the majority of the time I wasn't home, and then later on my internet was down. With all the books I have, you'd think I'd have some kind of medical textbook that would help me figure out whether my appendix had just ruptured or not. You want to know the really sad thing though? I wasn't ever really that worried about the appendix at all--just at the fact that I don't have medical insurance and I wouldn't be able to go to the student health center for a while; so I was basically praying that it wasn't an appendicitis so that I wouldn't have to deal with the medical bills. Where are my priorities, really? Hmmm....Life vs. Medical Bills....which should I choose?
Luckily it didn't come to that. I decided not to freak out until I got a temperature (or keeled over from pain), and it didn't happen (the former anyhow. I came dangerously close to keeling over). Therefore, my only conclusion is that the apple must have not been ripe and caused the stomach cramps.
Moral: Check your apples.
P.S. Percy Jackson comes out this weekend. For those of you who are as excited as I am. I hope it doesn't turn out like War of the Worlds. I was so excited for that movie too, because I'd just read it/listened to the old radio show that scared everyone. Then I saw the movie and disappointment prevailed. I'm already a little hesitant with Percy because some of the important characters either aren't on the character list at IMDB or don't look like the author describes them. Thankfully, we all know that looks aren't everything.
Sunday, February 07, 2010
Sunday, January 17, 2010
Indulgence
I have a problem. It is getting worse. It especially gets worse every time I happen to go to DI or Borders. Barnes and Noble is the most terrible, so I suppose it is a good thing that I live in a place where I have to drive for 45 minutes to get to one. Amazon.com has made my problem grow by leaps and bounds, especially when I find one I love on sale for just a penny. I speak of...Books. Have I ever told you how much I love books? I love the smell of books. I love to draw my fingers over the spines of a shelf of books and marvel at the mass of information contained in so many pages. I love the feel of those pages as I draw my finger under the words or flip the corners while I read. I love to pile books up on top of each other on my floor, or next to each other on a shelf so they can talk to each other and entertain one another while I am gone.
I love the way words look on a page, all crunched together just waiting to explode in your mind with a story. I get into fights with books when the author has had the audacity to subject the pages in front of me to a poorly worded story or a flat character who won't form in my mind. I laugh with other authors, imagining that I know just what they were thinking when they wrote that line or created this character. It was probably because I was so shy as a little girl that I began to love books so much. Books don't judge you. They don't criticize you for not being good enough. They don't intimidate you. They invite you. They sit patiently there on a shelf waiting to tell you their story--and not just tell you their story but dress you up, turn you round and round and then drop you right into the middle of their world. You open the first page and they greet you with a cheery "Hi!", a somber nod of the head, or a loving and contemplative "Hello my friend. How glad I am to see you again! It has been too long."
Maybe that's also why I've taken so earnestly to journal writing. Looking over the journals I've filled so far, it's strange to think that they are (though completely mundane) filled with thoughts and feelings and breaths that have come out of my own mind. Maybe keeping a journal is a way that you can become your own friend. You can go back and read the things that have spilled from your own mind and look at it as a friend would. You can say "How exciting for you!," or "How sad! I'm sorry it has been so hard!," and even the occasional "Don't cry Dear! Everything will turn out alright!"
In any case, my friends are waiting.
I love the way words look on a page, all crunched together just waiting to explode in your mind with a story. I get into fights with books when the author has had the audacity to subject the pages in front of me to a poorly worded story or a flat character who won't form in my mind. I laugh with other authors, imagining that I know just what they were thinking when they wrote that line or created this character. It was probably because I was so shy as a little girl that I began to love books so much. Books don't judge you. They don't criticize you for not being good enough. They don't intimidate you. They invite you. They sit patiently there on a shelf waiting to tell you their story--and not just tell you their story but dress you up, turn you round and round and then drop you right into the middle of their world. You open the first page and they greet you with a cheery "Hi!", a somber nod of the head, or a loving and contemplative "Hello my friend. How glad I am to see you again! It has been too long."
Maybe that's also why I've taken so earnestly to journal writing. Looking over the journals I've filled so far, it's strange to think that they are (though completely mundane) filled with thoughts and feelings and breaths that have come out of my own mind. Maybe keeping a journal is a way that you can become your own friend. You can go back and read the things that have spilled from your own mind and look at it as a friend would. You can say "How exciting for you!," or "How sad! I'm sorry it has been so hard!," and even the occasional "Don't cry Dear! Everything will turn out alright!"
In any case, my friends are waiting.
Sunday, January 10, 2010
I was off-planet
Okay, not really, but it felt like it some of the time. Let's do a quick update. Thanksgiving was fun. My family and I went to Disneyland for the first time in a long time. It was really fun. And in case you were wondering, the best time to go to Disneyland really is when someone needs to be in a wheelchair. My Mom, who has had problems with her feet for several years now, needed one. However, I think that the fear of running over a small child or a Disneyland worker that is completely dressed in black while it's dark outside totally balances out the fact that you don't really have to stand in a line. The day after Disneyland I spent about 15 hours sitting in my parents bathtub. And despite the fact that I have some plumbing skills it took at least 6 visits to Home Depot in order to figure out how to remove the cartridge out of where the handle went...anyways. That was just a little stressful.
Our theme for the holidays has kind of been "We can celebrate any way we dang please." We decided after the plumbing fiasco that we were all too tired to make turkey, so we convinced my mom that having ribs from Pat and Oscars could, in fact, be just as good as turkey. And we were right.
If you're looking for a new game for the family to play and you also happen to have pretty much no shame, you might want to look into getting the game "Quelf." Every year Santa leaves our family a new board game that we play Christmas evening, and this year he left Quelf. And it's hilarious. The cards direct you to sing, say certain things that make no sense, play Peek-a-Boo with anyone attempting to talk to you, become the personal cheerleader of one of the other players and cheer for them whenever they do ANYTHING, etc. At one point my Dad turned to us all and said over and over: "Chickens are on fire. NUCLEAR Chickens are on Fire!" Still not sure what that was all about. Like I said, no shame.
Last Wednesday my brother and I drove back up to Utah. I left him in Orem with my sister and drove back up to Logan. I really didn't want to get back to Logan four days before school started, but I had to work. Anyhow, turns out I had to go back down to San Diego on Friday. While I was at work Friday my sister called and told me my grandfather had passed away. He's been sick for quite a while now. At the beginning of November he fell and broke his femur. He had surgery to fix the break, but he sort of went downhill from there. His memory/dementia was worse. He slowly stopped eating and drinking. I don't want to go too much into it. He kind of went sooner than we thought he would. Let's just say that I'm glad for knowledge of the gospel, and the plan of salvation that helps us know that we will see our grandpa again. And that, after 24 years of being separated from his wife, they are together again.
Our theme for the holidays has kind of been "We can celebrate any way we dang please." We decided after the plumbing fiasco that we were all too tired to make turkey, so we convinced my mom that having ribs from Pat and Oscars could, in fact, be just as good as turkey. And we were right.
If you're looking for a new game for the family to play and you also happen to have pretty much no shame, you might want to look into getting the game "Quelf." Every year Santa leaves our family a new board game that we play Christmas evening, and this year he left Quelf. And it's hilarious. The cards direct you to sing, say certain things that make no sense, play Peek-a-Boo with anyone attempting to talk to you, become the personal cheerleader of one of the other players and cheer for them whenever they do ANYTHING, etc. At one point my Dad turned to us all and said over and over: "Chickens are on fire. NUCLEAR Chickens are on Fire!" Still not sure what that was all about. Like I said, no shame.
Last Wednesday my brother and I drove back up to Utah. I left him in Orem with my sister and drove back up to Logan. I really didn't want to get back to Logan four days before school started, but I had to work. Anyhow, turns out I had to go back down to San Diego on Friday. While I was at work Friday my sister called and told me my grandfather had passed away. He's been sick for quite a while now. At the beginning of November he fell and broke his femur. He had surgery to fix the break, but he sort of went downhill from there. His memory/dementia was worse. He slowly stopped eating and drinking. I don't want to go too much into it. He kind of went sooner than we thought he would. Let's just say that I'm glad for knowledge of the gospel, and the plan of salvation that helps us know that we will see our grandpa again. And that, after 24 years of being separated from his wife, they are together again.
Sunday, November 08, 2009
Eggplant is Actually Good
This is for my friends that are from cold areas. Specifically the Gustafson's and Crystal (I consider Michigan to be basically the same level of freezing as Minnesota, my dear). Hopefully you can read this, because I laughed hard when I saw it.
So, I've been attempting to cook some of the things in my cookbook that I've never tried before. A couple of weeks ago I was flipping through the veggie section when I saw it: Ratatouille. What?! I have the recipe for Ratatouille?! How is it possible that I've had it this long and haven't realized it? I took a look at it, expecting it to be (despite the movie's definition of it being a "peasant dish") some ridiculously complicated french cuisine. BUT NO!! It's incredibly easy. And a new challenge presented itself: it is made with eggplant. Despite having lived on this earth for 28 and a half years, I have never a) purchased an eggplant b) cooked an eggplant c) eaten eggplant. So while I was doing my grocery shopping I boldly went over to the veggie section and (tried to pretend I wasn't reading the label beneath as to how to pick out a good eggplant while I) picked one. And it was a beautiful eggplant, if I do say so myself. There's something about buying a purple vegetable that makes you happier inside.
Anyhow, it was a success. Ratatouille, it turns out, is just a whole bunch of vegetables (eggplant, zucchini, tomatoes, onion, green bell pepper, and fresh garlic) mixed together and cooked in a frying pan. My roommate had some too, and she liked it. Plus, here's a little tip from Betty Crocker herself: you can puree leftover ratatouille and put it on top of crackers and french bread for a snack or lunch. I haven't tried that yet though, but when I do I'll let you know how it tastes.
So, I've been attempting to cook some of the things in my cookbook that I've never tried before. A couple of weeks ago I was flipping through the veggie section when I saw it: Ratatouille. What?! I have the recipe for Ratatouille?! How is it possible that I've had it this long and haven't realized it? I took a look at it, expecting it to be (despite the movie's definition of it being a "peasant dish") some ridiculously complicated french cuisine. BUT NO!! It's incredibly easy. And a new challenge presented itself: it is made with eggplant. Despite having lived on this earth for 28 and a half years, I have never a) purchased an eggplant b) cooked an eggplant c) eaten eggplant. So while I was doing my grocery shopping I boldly went over to the veggie section and (tried to pretend I wasn't reading the label beneath as to how to pick out a good eggplant while I) picked one. And it was a beautiful eggplant, if I do say so myself. There's something about buying a purple vegetable that makes you happier inside.
Anyhow, it was a success. Ratatouille, it turns out, is just a whole bunch of vegetables (eggplant, zucchini, tomatoes, onion, green bell pepper, and fresh garlic) mixed together and cooked in a frying pan. My roommate had some too, and she liked it. Plus, here's a little tip from Betty Crocker herself: you can puree leftover ratatouille and put it on top of crackers and french bread for a snack or lunch. I haven't tried that yet though, but when I do I'll let you know how it tastes.
Sunday, November 01, 2009
PUZZling and PUZZling
You know how when the Grinch took all the presents from Who-ville and got to the top of the mountain, he stopped and heard all the Whos come out of their house, hoping to hear them crying but instead they all started singing despite the fact that he had stolen all their who-hash--you know how he stood there "PUZZling and PUZZLing" about why they were singing when he had stolen Christmas? That's how I've felt this whole week about pretty much everything--I've been puzzling and puzzling about it. I've been puzzling over my clients at LDS, trying to figure out how to best help them, puzzling about whether I'm pushing some of them too hard. I've been puzzling about what to do with my life after school. Yesterday I spent three hours at the library puzzling over a research project that I'm trying to prepare for my research class for NEXT semester, puzzling out if the inventory I'm trying to make is even feasible. Even at church today I was feeling puzzled about the members of my ward and why some of them act the way they do. Humanity is just puzzling, and it's all been pressing on me this week.
A couple of weeks ago I was over at a friends' house and she invited me to go with her to these stables to help her friend bring a horse out of it's trailer and get it set up in one of the stables. When we got there I realized that they keep the fairgrounds open pretty much all the time, so this morning I went on a little drive and stopped by the fairgrounds to pet the horses. I've never really interacted with horses. I rode one once, for about 10-15 minutes, but we were on a trip with the kids I worked with. One horse, four people, so we each got just a little time to ride. Anyhow, the horses at the stable are really beautiful. This morning I was wishing I had one of those horse brushes, because some of the horses were covered with hay or mud from their stall. An elderly fellow showed up, and he voiced what I had been thinking. "There aren't many places where you can go and just smell the horses." He said he used to ride horses, up in the mountains near Logan. I imagined him to be an Americanized Jim Craig, riding down the side of a mountain when everyone else stops at the cliff. "I don't ride anymore. Now I just like to come here and smell them." Funny man.
A couple of weeks ago I was over at a friends' house and she invited me to go with her to these stables to help her friend bring a horse out of it's trailer and get it set up in one of the stables. When we got there I realized that they keep the fairgrounds open pretty much all the time, so this morning I went on a little drive and stopped by the fairgrounds to pet the horses. I've never really interacted with horses. I rode one once, for about 10-15 minutes, but we were on a trip with the kids I worked with. One horse, four people, so we each got just a little time to ride. Anyhow, the horses at the stable are really beautiful. This morning I was wishing I had one of those horse brushes, because some of the horses were covered with hay or mud from their stall. An elderly fellow showed up, and he voiced what I had been thinking. "There aren't many places where you can go and just smell the horses." He said he used to ride horses, up in the mountains near Logan. I imagined him to be an Americanized Jim Craig, riding down the side of a mountain when everyone else stops at the cliff. "I don't ride anymore. Now I just like to come here and smell them." Funny man.
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