What do you get when you cross a cat with a comic book?

Growing up I really liked comic book cartoons, X-Men being my favorite.  Deep down I hoped that I could one day have wolverine claws of my own.  I don't know what I planned on doing with them other than learning how to slice the perfect thickness of cheddar for my grilled cheese sandwiches.  I also loved Batman and still do.  We will probably end up seeing the new Batman movie on opening day and again when it goes to Redbox...as well as a bazillion more times when we one day buy it.  Steve knows these things because constantly tell him how much I loved such-and-such cartoon and which movies seem to find their way into our DVD player more often that I'd be comfortable admitting.  This year Steve decided to make me a homemade gift based on comic book characters....using my cat.  This all started when my sister Emily sent me a "Bible Cats" themed calendar last year for Christmas. It's pretty much pictures of cats photoshopped in ridiculous ways to recreate scenes from the Bible. It features pictures of Sampson & Da-feline, Pawting the Red Sea and, my personal favorite, Joseph and Pawtifur's Wife.  Obviously, there are more, but I would like you to see the feature presentation.  My cat, Charlie, is the hero on each page, not the ugly villains.  Disclaimer: No cats were harmed in the shooting of this calendar.

Charlie is labeled as Beast #1 because I had him before Steve and I got married.  Steve is Beast #2, kind of like Thing 1 and Thing 2 from Dr. Seuss.

My personal favorite because I love Charlie's face.

Steve had to force Charlie into this pose on the floor.  Don't worry, he was rewarded for his cooperation.

I wish there really was a Catman.

I love this one because he reminds me of Sheldon from "The Big Bang Theory," who happens to have Charlies body type.

I would like you all to know that the fat cat above is NOT my cat, just his head.

Steve even added some blonde hair to make it more authentic.

The Real Reason We Keep Facebook

Steve and I don't find Facebook to be terribly useful unless we are plugging our blog or seeing if anyone has posted anything funny or interesting (in that order).  Someone had this on Steve's news feed and I thought I was going to die laughing...mainly after reading numbers 4, 8, 10, and 13.  Enjoy!  (P.S. Don't lie to yourself.  We all experience and think these things.)

1. Sometimes I'll look down at my watch 3 consecutive times and still not know what time it is. 

2. Nothing sucks more than that moment during an argument when you realize you're wrong. 

3. I totally take back all those times I didn't want to nap when I was younger. 

4. There is great need for a sarcasm font. 

5. How on earth are you supposed to fold a fitted sheet? 

6. Was learning cursive really necessary? 

7. Map Quest really needs to start their directions on # 5. I'm pretty sure I know how to get out of my neighborhood. 

8. Obituaries would be a lot more interesting if they told you how the person died. 

9. I can't remember the last time I wasn't at least kind-of tired. 

10. Bad decisions make good stories. 

11. You never know when it will strike, but there comes a moment at work when you know that you just aren't going to do anything productive for the rest of the day. 

12. Can we all just agree to ignore whatever comes after Blue Ray? I don't want to have to restart my collection...again. 

13. I'm always slightly terrified when I exit out of Word and it asks me if I want to save any changes to my ten-page technical report that I swear I did not make any changes to. 

14. I keep some people's phone numbers in my phone just so I know not to answer when they call. 

15. I think the freezer deserves a light as well. 

16. I disagree with Kay Jewelers. I would bet on any given Friday or Saturday night more kisses begin with Miller Light than Kay. 

17. I wish Google Maps had an "Avoid Ghetto" routing option. 

18. I have a hard time deciphering the fine line between boredom and hunger. 

19. How many times is it appropriate to say "What?" before you just nod and smile because you still didn't hear or understand a word they said? 

20. I love the sense of camaraderie when an entire line of cars team up to prevent a jerk from cutting in at the front. Stay strong, brothers and sisters! 

21. Shirts get dirty. Underwear gets dirty. Pants? Pants never get dirty, and you can wear them forever. 

22. Even under ideal conditions people have trouble locating their car keys in a pocket, finding their cell phone, and Pinning the Tail on the Donkey - but I'd bet everyone can find and push the snooze button from 3 feet away, in about 1.7 seconds, eyes closed, first time, every time. 

23. The first testicular guard, the "Cup," was used in Hockey in 1874 and the first helmet was used in 1974. That means it only took 100 years for men to realize that their brain is also important.  

Halloween is the second best holiday of the year.  Sadly, I spent it sick in bed unable to feast on the VERY large bowl of Halloween candy I bought for "trick or treaters."  Let's be honest, I knew no one would come (just like last year and that conveniently allowed us to eat every piece that I bought).  I bought the candy for me and I didn't even get to enjoy it on the one day you're allowed to eat as much garbage as you want.  Except Almond Joys, they will always be trash and I will always give them to my dad.  I spent the morning vomiting and laying nauseated in bed only to spend the afternoon at the doctor's office with an unidentified person that reeked of urine.  I seriously considered vomiting in the waiting room to get back at them, but then it made feel bad.  But to be fair, I hate the smell of stale urine more than boogers and I HATE boogers a lot.  You can ask Steve.  The point is that we had to celebrate the day after because I wasn't going to wait an entire year.  I might die and then I'd be mad I missed it.  Just like Sally when the Great Pumpkin never showed up.

Anyway, we decided to carve our pumpkins while listening to the soundtrack from "The Nightmare Before Christmas."  It's become a tradition and why not, it is one of the best movies ever.  I still remember when it came out when I was in  elementary school and my mom said I couldn't see it.  She probably thought it was evil, but she also didn't want us to see Toy Story (I'm convinced it was because of the creepy doll head with Erector set spider legs).  But I ended seeing it at someone else's house and told my dad repeatedly how much I loved it.  And then he bought it.  And we watched it a million times...until he put a limit on how often we could watch it because it was getting out of hand (true story-Lys will confirm its validity).  Now I only watch it every Halloween and Christmas (yes, I consider that self-control).  I tried to convince Steve that he should carve Oogey Boogey to match my Jack Skellington, but the skull is what he chose instead.  He did, however, promise that one day I could have a pumpkin patch (which he will plant for me) so that I can do the whole Halloween Town.  Or at least a good chunk of it.  What about our children carving some of our pumpkins?  Uh, they don't get any.  And a 50% candy tax will be enforced.  Next year I will try to steady my hands and not saw off Jack's eyebrow along with a few of his teeth.

Steve's Trick-or-Treat Skull and the Annual Jack Skellington

Our Cup O' Dirt & Worms

More like the Museum of FUNeral History

Yesterday in honor of Halloween in a couple of weeks we went to the National Museum of Funeral History in Houston. We're talking NATIONAL. Not no silly state or community run Museum of Funeral History. Nothing but the best for us. We went because a friend found it on tripadvisor and it sounded entertaining (by the way its #8 for "things to do" in Houston). And it sure was.

Megan in the Dracula coffin with the little kid Dracula cape

From a Dracula photo op, to learning about embalming, to President Lincoln's hair, to the pope mobile, to a casket in the shape of a huge cheetah, the Houston National Museum of Funeral History has it all. It's really your place to go for all things dead. The Dracula photo op seemed a little irreverent for a funeral museum, but given our immaturity and the museum clerk lady with the thick southern accent telling us to "take all the photos ya like", we just couldn't resist. I'm not a bad Dracula either with my pasty white skin and huge K-9s (seriously I actually had to ask my Dentist to shave them down after my mission because a little kid at Church asked me if I was a vampire, my Dentist of course tried to convince me to keep my fangs because all the girls were into this guy Edward that I had never heard of before, I thought he was lying until I found out that Twilight was actually a thing).

As we were driving home were tired just sort of sitting there in silence. I was just zoning out and trying to pay attention to the road, Megan was of course thinking on more important matters (I love how her mind works, she entertains me). Out of the blue she voiced her feelings, "Isn't it just mocking chickens that we call their bones drumsticks? I mean, it's already degrading enough being a chicken and getting eaten. It's like were saying to them, 'I'm gonna eat you and use your dead carcass and bones to play the drums.' It's kind of like a slap in the face to chickens." I had to laugh and agree, it was well thought out and she was right.

Megan has had some trouble sleeping lately and the doctor prescribed her Ambien. I've been thinking I need to start writing down some of the things she says when she's a little zonked. Last night in her Ambien delirium she told me that I was like a huge whale and she wished that she could blow me up  so that she could be famous on YouTube. Here's a link if you don't know what I'm talking about: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1_t44siFyb4

A selection of tasteful coffins for the predeceased

A Fair is a Veritable Smorgasbord

This weekend Steve and I went to the State Fair in Dallas. I know what all you Mormons are thinking, why weren't we watching General Conference? For one, we are sometimes wicked. But really, it was because Steve paid for a hotel room he got a good deal on a month ago and we forgot. You really should not hold us to the high standards of remembering something that happens twice a year when we NEVER remember Fast Sunday until we get to church and everyone talks about how grateful they are to be there. You can identify us as the only people that don't have grumbling stomachs. But I digress.

So the State Fair. I will admit I had very low expectations after attending Utah's state fair for the first time shortly after Steve and I were dating (It was not a good way to impress me). One, their fried food selection sucked. And two (most importantly of all), we ended up at a Boyz to Men concert whose tickets were free. Obviously because no one would pay money to suffer through their terrible love songs. Thank goodness I had the sense in junior high not to listen to them or base my expectations for marriage on their lyrics.

We started off our Saturday at the dog show. The two best parts were the dog that kept stealing frisbees from the trainer (I bet he got spanked afterward for embarrassing him) and the dogs that were supposed to be racing around a track, but instead repeatedly ran away from their owners. How embarrassing to have to chase after your own dog in front of all those people. Your pain, our entertainment. They also had some pig races scheduled, but were not able to see them because Steve needed to be back. It was a shame because they wear RACING OUTFITS while they compete. I was so sad.

However, the fried lunch we ate made up for it. Come to think of it, we may have actually eaten retired race pigs...Anyway, so what I was most excited for at the fair was the fried food. You even can ask my family, if you can fry I will eat it. (My youngest sister often didn't like what I chose for dinner growing up because it was usually deep fried. She is missing out.) Did you know they have country fried BACON?! Yep, true story. We ate an entire order. And maybe some fried oreos....with a possible fried Snickers in there. Go ahead, call us disgusting. I don't really care because my family established this fact years ago and your opinion will do little to change my mind about my food being soaked in grease. (If I am at least in my sixties when my doctor says that I will die if I don't stop eating fried everything-even if it's Steve-I will just accept death. Do I really need to live long enough to have both hips replaced? No, I do not.) You would not believe the stuff they fried: bubble gum, caviar (one thing I will never eat, even fried), salsa, beer and cheesecake. We didn't get the cheesecake because we were trying to exercise self-control.

One of the best parts of the fair was the petting zoo. Again, you may judge away. We can't help it if we enjoy mauling animals with our love. Especially Steve (you can confirm that with my cat). They had zebras, emus, bison and camels. We pet them ALL. They also had ostriches, piglets, kangaroos and PORCUPINES. You couldn't pet any of those, but deep down I was hoping that someone stupid would at least attempt to touch the porcupine. I guess technically you could sort of pet the ostrich, but there were several warning signs not claiming responsibility for "incidents." What a delicate way to say, "If this ostrich behaves like its relatives from The Birds, we will not pay for an ocular transplant." And yet people are dumb enough to try to pet it. A lady told that one bit her two-year old last year. It's so hard not to laugh in people's faces sometimes. I will have to admit that even though I generally love animals I don't always want to show that in the best way. For example, as I was petting the emu I had the urge several times to grab its neck and swing it around. I didn't do it, I just thought about it. I asked Steve later if he also wanted to do that. After he burst out laughing in my face he said no. It was a little awkward after I realized I had shared too much. Although I am sure that some of you out that have also at least thought about it.

"Farmer Mike" - Master Pumpkin Carver

Sculptures made entirely out of butter.  Still unclear about how they came up with that one.

A Day in the Life

I am often surprised at the things children say or that pop out of my mouth while I am substitute teaching (no, I have never swore at them despite what some of you may be thinking but that doesn't mean I don't think it). Sometimes kids are funny and other times you just want to punch them in the face or at least be present when someone else does. These are some of those stories (insert Law and Order GA-GUNG! here).

I meet a lot of different kids from different backgrounds that have some pretty interesting names, but since everyone seems to want their child to have a unique name that's not what's surprising. It's the kids who have outdated names like Harold and Patti. I was teaching in a dual language class this week and occasionally what I'm trying to say in Spanish mixes with what I say in English. One such incident resulting in me calling a first grader "Potty" instead of "Patty." I tried to correct myself and pretend that it hadn't happened, but I think the damage was done.

Sometimes kids are surprised at my age as well as my marital status. These are two real conversations I had this week with the same first grade class:

Student: Are you still in college?

Me: No.

Student: Are you done with college?

Me: Yes.

Student: What?! You still look like you are in high school!

What I am thinking: Says the kid who looks like she belongs in fourth grade. I hope you look old and wrinkly at 30. Maybe I should find it as a compliment, but I don't.

Different Student: Oh, I couldn't tell if you were married.

What I was thinking: Uh, I wrote "Mrs." on the board. Can't you read?

What I really said: Yes, I am.

Student: I couldn't tell because you don't have a diamond on your ring and women who are married have diamonds on top.

Fact: I do have a diamond in my ring. Apparently also a fact: It is not visible to the naked eye.

I also had a dual language job this past week with fifth graders. They each have a writing and reading notebook for class. Not surprisingly there were several who didn't write their names on them or were convinced that someone else had stolen theirs (of course, that didn't happen but kids are too ridiculous to realize that nobody wants your stupid notebook). One that had no name was covered in pictures of Obama and I thought surely someone would remember this belonged to them. One student said, "Oh, it's so-and-so's." He happened to be black and this was his response:

"That ain't mine. Don't be assuming that just cause I'm black that it's my notebook. Geez!" It was kind of funny, but I did feel a little bad that everyone assumed it was his.

On the virtues of PB

This last week we spent Friday afternoon working in a Church welfare Peanut Butter factory in North Houston. It was cool because it was like watching How is it Made. Although more realistically, it was like watching a three minute clip of How is it Made over and over again for five hours. It was great though. Some people say that once you see how something is made it either loses its mystic or becomes too gross to eat it any more, but not so with Peanut Butter. I still love it. The only thing that could have made it better was if it was a Nutella factory...

To the Victor Go the Spoils

Well, I finally won one. Months of groceries at Albertsons and Yahtzee card after Yahtzee card and my dreams finally came true. My prize: one dollar in cash.

I've probably worked harder for this one dollar than any other dollar I've earned in my life. What finally led to my success was the Yahtzee promotion was ending and a sympathetic clerk (whose identity shall be protected to stop the fatcats at Albertsons from firing him) at Albertson's gave us a stack of about 40 yahtzee cards. I guess it was just a numbers game.

I guess my enthusiasm for stupid promotions like this one started when I was young. I was in fourth grade when my friends and I were convinced that by combining our all of our efforts and monopoly pieces, we were going to win something from the McDonald's Monopoly games. It seemed like you could always collect two out of the three pieces for each monopoly, but there was always that one that eluded you. There were always rumors that someone in our class had one of the fabled rare monopoly cards and we would talk about combining our pieces to win whatever ridiculous prize it was: a big screen t.v., some jetskis, or one million dollars. I never seemed to give up my unfounded optimism.

I guess some part of me is still that naive little fourth grader, waiting for his big break of some sweet awesome McDonald's jetskis.

P.S. this is not a lottery ticket and we didn't pay for it. Furthermore we shop at Albertsons anyway. I'm cheap and I like games and I like free stuff. I'm not stupid.

That's What You Get For Eavesdropping

After being married to Steve for the past 16 months I have realized that we often have some very interesting and sometimes strange conversations. They seem normal to us, but if you were to listen in during certain parts would probably be thinking, "What the?!" So, for those of you who are easily offended/grossed out (you know who you are) this is not the post for you. As for the rest of you, enjoy.

I love to have my back scratched. Every day. And Steve learned that as soon as we got married. However, Steve is not the best back scratcher out there. And he knows because sometimes I have to move his hand for him and it gets uncomfortable after awhile. Really, I shouldn't have to scratch my own back. I told him if my back was a lawn he would be doing the worst job in history. He mows so much in one spot that it burns the grass and doesn't doing anything anywhere else making the other half of my back the part of your lawn where grass grows so long that it turns to seed. And he even agreed with me.

Steve has a unique sense of humor and I often don't know what to do with it. He embarrasses me ALL THE TIME even when we are all by ourselves. He was supposed to be hanging up a whiteboard for me in our kitchen, so of course he needed his leveler and stud finder. He proceeded to use the latter on himself. Once he ran it over his chest he made his own out-of-control beeping noise followed by the claim that it exploded. It did not.

He also likes to do things that embarrass me in public. While on vacation in North Carolina my sister took us to a historic mill. Inside they have a box of clothes pioneer-ish in nature for both kids and adults to dress up in. My nieces got dressed up and I was thinking that they were so cute. Well, then Steve decides he also wants to dress up while making ridiculous faces. If he was trying to flirt it was not working. All I could think about was that he looked like he was either going coon hunting or getting ready to make turtle soup (that is real, people made it on my mission and I bet you can guess where they lived).

Now, I HATE stepping in dog poop. Who doesn't. But the thing that really drives me crazy is that it gets stuck deep into the crevices on the bottom of your shoes and it doesn't matter how much you drag your foot across the grass, that smell follows you EVERYWHERE you go. It seems that you can never really get rid of it. One night in bed I was thinking that having stepped in both dog and horse crap I have decided that dog smells way worse because of its potent odor and lingering-ness. So I asked Steve why that is since he does know why urine and feces are colored the way they are (he waited until after dinner to tell me). He replied, "I don't know. I'm not a poo-ologist." If you know the answer, please feel free to comment.

About a week ago the speaker in church spoke about serving his mission in South Carolina. He proceeded to say that the missionaries called it the Butthole of the Bible Belt. I was shocked when I did not hear offended gasps and muffled laughs. Not even from Steve (that's where he served his mission-he would have laughed not gasped). So I leaned over to Steve and asked, "Didn't he just say that South Carolina was the Butthole of the Bible Belt?" Steve smiled and leaned over to say, "No, he said buckle." Wow. I am so glad that I did not laugh out loud.

And our last conversation piece is my personal favorite, but may not be appropriate for a young audience. When Steve and I first got married I noticed that he did not use much toilet paper. I got concerned that Steve might not be using enough, so I confronted him about the issue. He told me that guys don't usually use toilet paper when they pee. Let me tell you, this was news to me. I had five sisters growing up and there always seemed to be a shortage (someone always left an empty roll, which was only sometimes me). At first I thought this was so great to have all this toilet paper pretty much to myself. But then I thought Steve should use it anyway because it would be more clean. My argument did not sway him then and does not now. Even when I told him he would have a lot more cooties down there than he would otherwise. His response: "You mean lewd-ies."

Pics from Utah-lina (see Megan's stories below)

Megan and her nieces Mary and Emma, and her sister Kristin

Carolina Beach

First time for Megan fishing at Strawberry Reservoir, UT

Wakeboarding at Utah Lake

Megan in the "Green Mistress"

Triple Boarding : Steve on wakestate, Tyler and Tom on wakeboards

Megan training to be a sniper with her scoped .22: 25 round Banana clip included.

Me shooting the .45, or "Cowboy gun" as Megan calls it

Trying to brush up on our Texas heritage

It's more green in UT than TX right now, we miss the mountains

Megan in the Rhino

Wildflowers at Strawberry Reservoir

Goin' to Utah-lina in My Mind

We recently returned from our 3 week escapade across the United States, but really just North Carolina and Utah. We enjoyed a week long vacation at Carolina Beach where there was warm water, unlike those of you loyal to your California beaches. Vacation does not constitute freezing my butt off. If it requires a wet suit, forget it. Steve attempted to teach me to boogie board and his first attempt was quite unsuccessful. It ended with me not having ridden a single wave and believing that I was going to drown. At one point I may have believed that he was doing it on purpose. The trick seemed to be me wearing some ridiculous looking goggles to cover my eyes and nose. Keep in mind the water went barely above my belly button. I will not be posting a picture as I look ridiculous. I'd rather not have that circulating on the internet forever. Unlike Steve, I still have a little bit of shame left.

We also discovered that hard wood floors are not a good idea as we listened to Alyssa fall down an entire flight of stairs while terrified children awaited their death on the landing below. We also learned that if a kid sits on the beach for too long, their swimsuit will fill up with sand and look like they pooped. I guess Steve learned his lesson. I also let my family bury me in the sand and shape me into a mermaid. For some reason, my niece thought it was a go

od idea to put sand down the back of my swimsuit. Seeing as how I was stuck there was nothing I could do to get her back. However, when Alyssa did the same thing to her she did not laugh. Thankfully, they finished shaping me before the tide came in and my legs lost all feeling.

On our trip to Utah, Steve's dad took us fishing for the first time in my life. He said that I would know if I caught a fish because I would feel a very distinct jerk on the fishing pole. Well I did. So I reeled it in and what did I catch? About a foot and a half of moss. What a rip off. We also went on a four wheeler ride while we laughed at some boy scouts pedaling their guts out up a hill. I hope they heard us. Suckas! I screamed twice during the excursion when Steve almost took the life of a chipmunk and a baby dear. Thankfully their lives were spared and I'll take credit for it. Here's a picture of some of the wildflowers in Utah around strawberry reservoir.

We also attended my friend Elizabeth's wedding. And while waiting for the sealing to start, Steve leaned over and said, "I really miss Charlie." I am unsure as to why he decided to tell me that then. Maybe he just needed to be validated by our kitty's love.

Oh the pain...the pain!

THE FOLLOWING STORY IS NOT FOR THE FAINT OF HEART. The past couple of weeks I have been working in a pediatric clinic. A common problem in pediatrics is that as infants genitals develop, the skin sometimes adheres and starts to fuse a little bit. If you don't want to hear a story about genital adhesions, stop reading now. This happens in both boys and girls, though I think it's more common in girls. This last Wednesday there was a lady that came in with her son that was maybe 3 years old. The doctor told the patient's mom he would need to separate the adhesion. "It's okay, it doesn't hurt them near as much as it would me or him (as he points to me, the only other male in the room)" the doctor reassured her. Well, as the doctor started to pull the adhesion apart, the 3 year old began to scream and kick. The doctor motioned for help holding down the kid and before I could help, the other 2 medical students (both female) grabbed the kids legs. So if you can imagine the scene: the is a mom holding a thrashing and screaming three year old, the doctor inflicting the pain, two female medical students holding the kids legs, and me sitting back watching in shear terror. The ordeal lasted about a minute before the doctor was done, looked up, and burst into laughter as he saw me backed up, almost in the corner of the room, with my lower body turned away towards the wall, perhaps in a subconscious protective reflex. Later, the doctor dictated his note in a pseudo-serious scientific tone, "The procedure caused quite a bit of pain and discomfort to both the patient and our male medical student."

Since I would not want to add any pictures to this story (it is graphic enough as it is), here is a picture of us in downtown Houston a couple weeks ago at the Ballet to see Taming of the Shrew. Yes, I am soooo cultured. And to further establish just how cultured I am, here is a video of me using a laser to try and teach the cat to turn the lights off for us. There are different kinds of cultured.

The Star Wars Kid

I am not "the" Stars Wars kid, he is: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HPPj6viIBmU. However, I was A Star Wars kid. I could have been the Stars Wars kid if I had been provided with access to a camcorder. You might think I'm joking, but I probably would have made one and enlisted my friend Cari. And probably some stuffed animals to serve as Ewoks and Wookies. Anyway, I always thought that I would marry someone who knew at least as many Star Wars quotes as I did. One day I mentioned midi-chlorians and Steve had no idea what I was talking about. I felt like one of the geeks from The Big Bang Theory that has no idea how nerdy they are...until now. What a crushing day.

Well, this post was prompted by nursery a week ago. We have boy who likes to tell us his new name every week. Yesterday was he was No Name and he has been the White Hulk, Monster and Mikey (none of these are even remotely close to his real name). Two Sundays ago he decided that he was Yoda, which I was fine with until he was being moody and having a temper tantrum. That was when I called him Yoda from the Dark Side and he shouted, "No! I'm not Yoda from the Dark Side." One, yes he was and two, how did he even know what the Dark Side was? After that I decided that he was Darth Vader because he was shaming Yoda's good name and he really did behave like Anakin in his early, whiny years. Actually, I take that back: he is more like the Emperor.

So why should I care about Yoda? Because I am a Star Wars geek. Few of you may know (or even remember) that for about a year when I was in elementary school I would watch all three original movies in ONE night almost every Friday. I always did it at sleepovers with Cari and, as you probably all guessed, I was the only one that stayed awake for all three. Go ahead and lose respect for me, but I don't care. Heck, I watched all three the week before I moved here. I even believed in the force until I was at least 8. I used to try to switch off the bedroom light at night, so that I wouldn't have to get out of bed. Sadly, I never mastered it, but now I have Steve and he can do that for me (BAHAHAHAHAHA!).

Now, I will admit that I occasionally talk like Yoda. In fact, I did it the other night after Steve had turned off the lights to see if I could make him laugh (I was successful). Cari, Lys and Steve may be the only ones to have ever heard it. Probably because it is both embarrassing and only bears a decent resemblance to Yoda's voice. Truthfully, I think the only person I have ever heard imitate a Star Wars character well is my sister Emily. Honestly, you would think it was the real Chewbacca in the room.

I also regularly insert Star Wars quotes into conversations with Steve. Now if I said the same thing at my parents' house with my siblings they would at least know what I was talking about even if my joke wasn't funny. I often use "Now I am the master", "There's no escape" and "NO! That's impossible!" (complete with Luke's ugly facial expression). SERIOUSLY, without fail Steve asks, "Wait! Where is that from?" E-V-E-R-Y-T-I-M-E!

So, now you all know that Steve's wife has out-geeked him. Enjoy this great Yoda clip: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BtfejKs_mI4

Get Your Stakes and Silver Bullets

I often have conversations with Steve before we go to bed and depending on how tired we are, it will influence the topic to be more or less strange. One tired night I was thinking about how I am the WORST person to watch thrillers or other such scary movies with. One particular incident was a few years ago in my parents' basement. Lys (my youngest sister) had borrowed the movie "Skeleton Key" from her friend. She had already seen the movie in the theater and said it wasn't scary. Within the first ten minutes of her watching it with me I had scared us both so bad that she said if I didn't stop she would leave down there by myself. I promised to be good, but not just because the movie was freaky. It was mostly because when I was little I believed that Darth Vader would come out of the shadows if I didn't get out of the basement in time. I would turn off the lights super quick and then bolt up the stairs, occasionally trampling innocent bystanders. This stems from the scene when Luke is training with Yoda and he goes into the cave, but Yoda tells him that there will only be what he takes with him. And then Darth Vader comes out (that part still freaks me out even though I know it's coming) and Luke chops off his head only to find that he chopped off his own head. Well, if Darth Vader wanted to hide in my parents' basement he could and I would not see him until it was too late. Who wouldn't be freaked out?!

Anyway, this story made Steve remember that he used to think the Skeksis (from Jim Henson's "The Dark Crystal") lived in his basement. If you have not seen that movie, don't. It is a waste of 93 min that you will never get back. Plus, a lot of those muppets look like somebody was designing them on LSD. This then led to me asking what he thought the boogeyman looked like. A couple months back I was looking up what the boogeyman supposedly looked like in other cultures. So here's the thing: nobody knows. I think that's why he's so scary and works as a great motivator for children to be good. I personally thought that he was made out of pond scum, twigs and other decaying crap from a swamp. I figured he wouldn't be furry because Wolfman is and that would be copyright infringement. So of course once I got older I realized that he didn't exist (based on my previous concept of the boogeyman)....UNTIL Steve decided to tell me that he thought the boogeyman was some guy wearing a black trench coat and hat. So, ANYONE!!! For the first time since my childhood I was scared of the boogeyman because he could be REAL!!! I practically pushed Steve off the bed that night in an attempt to get closer to him and further from the edge. I didn't want the boogeyman to grab me from under the bed. At least if he reached over on Steve's side he would get Steve first and then I could make a quick break.

Well, this past week I was tossing and turning one night and for whatever reason Steve sat up in the bed to where his head was hovering over mine. Some sort of gargled scream came out of me and scared both of us to death (but more especially Steve). I really did feel bad, but I couldn't stop laughing at how I thought he was the boogeyman and I ended up scaring him more than he scared me.

Steve Got a Nose Job

Actually, he didn't get a nose job. I did, but not the cosmetic kind. It all started about 7 or 8 months ago when my family doctor recommended that I get nasal surgery after some pretty nasty pseudo-sinus infections. I said I'd think about it. I lied. But mostly because I did not want people to think I had gotten a nose job. And I didn't want to pay a BAZILLION dollars for surgery, what with me being the SOLE breadwinner and all (just rubbing it in, Steve). Well, fast forward to spring break when my face blew up and I scared people with my Hunchback-of-Notre-Dame-face in the ER. After seeing the allergist he decided I needed a CT scan of my head to make sure nothing was wrong. They didn't find the cause of the allergic reaction (the sucky antibiotic I was on-you were right Ammon), but they did find that my nasal cavities were VERY bony. Hence the reason I could not breathe well (as it turns out, it's not normal to pant and have a runny nose when you go up the ten stairs to your door).

So, Steve was very convincing in "encouraging" the surgery. During our consultation the doctor informed me that there was a possibility that I could leak cerebral spinal fluid, but that was rare so I

shouldn't be concerned (I was). Next, he explained what he was going to do (snip, snip here, chop, chop there), which Steve thought was SO interesting but scared the life outta me. It did not help that they made me sign something the day of the surgery saying I had no medical power of attorney or a will in case I died (he said this was going to be a minor surgery). Good thing we have modern medicine and I don't remember a thing about the surgery.

I can finally breathe, even though I'm not allowed to blow my nose for a couple more days (2 weeks total). Don't worry, he vacuumed my boogers out during my check-up appointment. I did get a bloody nose with a clot about a half a tablespoon in size that was dislodged after a sneeze somehow misfired. While bleeding everywhere (I really mean it-it even got on the walls of the bathroom), I was banging on the bathroom door with my foot and shouting but Steve couldn't hear me over the Harry Potter movie (which was a lame movie

because Doby died and he was the only one I liked). I made Steve call the doctor and it turns out that was normal (I felt really foolish because we did bother him at 10 pm, whoops).

Not that I ever considered plastic surgery before, but I never would after that. I do not enjoy being nauseated and in bed all day for days afterward. And I don't like not being able to blow my nose (neither does Steve). I do not have any pictures of me following the surgery, mostly because I don't allow Steve to take pictures of me when I look gross. Nobody wants that documented or out on the internet forever. So instead, here are two pictures Steve and colored after church a couple Sundays ago.

The State of Texas vs. Idiots Who Waste My Time

About three weeks ago I was summoned for jury duty. While waiting for jury selection to begin I overheard a woman in her fifties say that after thirty years in College Station this was the first time she'd had jury duty. What the heck?! I live here for 9 months and I get summoned! It seems a little fishy to me.

Anyway, back to my story. Somehow I got stuck on the second jury for a SPEEDING TICKET! Really, you can't just appear before a judge?! BOO!!!!! Big, fat waste of my morning. The guy claimed that the officer had not clocked him at 20 miles over the speed limit, so he must be lying and wants to see proof on the radar gun. Oh, and he also mentioned that he NEVER speeds only to have the city's attorney bring up a ticket from a few years ago where he drove 15 miles over the speed limit in a school zone when school was dismissing. I didn't care if he was guilty or not (although it sure looked that way), so because he felt the need to waste our entire morning over a $200 ticket that he didn't want to pay I thought we should find him guilty (which we did). So, not only did he have to pay the ticket, but he also had to pay court fees as well as for the gas he used to drive from Houston.

Don't worry, I got paid for my services. Apparently, my three hour morning at the courthouse was worth a whooping SIX DOLLARS. That's two dollars an hour and well below minimum wage. And here's a picture of the check to prove it.

Need Some Drugs?

I started my preceptorship this week, I'm following around a family medicine doctor. He told me some specifics about how he writes his prescriptions so that the pharmacist knows they are from him and he told me a funny story:

One day he got a call from the Emergency Room.  They said that a patient was trying to fill a prescription from him (the family doctor) but the ER staff were pretty confident that it was forgery. As the doctor was telling me this story he wrote something on his prescription pad and handed it to me, "This is what the prescription said". I looked at the piece of paper. It read, "mofene". Under that it said "1 lb".

Year One Done and a Nice Weekend in Houston

As of this last Friday my first year of school is done! We had our final exam over the last 5 months of material given by the NBME (National Board of Medical Examiners). 4 hours and 200 questions of pure enjoyment. A tasty appetizer of the 8 hour test I will take at the end of my second year over everything from the first 2 years.

To celebrate being done we had a nice relaxing weekend. Our ward had a Hawaiian Luau Friday night that we went to and afterwards I made us some mango-strawberry-pina coladas but our blender bottom came off as I was finishing the smoothies so we had to eat them out of a big bowl. Yeah, we're weird like that. 

Monday I start my preceptorship in Family Medicine. I'll be following around a family medicine doc (not sure exactly how involved it will be since I don't really know much of anything) for 4 weeks. Sometimes it's funny to me how when I tell people that I am going to medical school they ask me all sorts of detailed medical questions or ask me what I am going to specialize in like I know what I am doing.

Saturday we went down to Houston to the temple and the Zoo. It just so happened while we were at the temple one of the missionaries from my mission was getting married that day. As we were leaving the temple we also saw my Sister-in-law Mickisha's sister Kali there for a friends wedding. It's a small world I guess. 

After the temple we went to a Greek restaurant called Niko Niko's and the Houston Zoo. Here's a picture of a orangutan I took at the zoo. I guess I had never seen one before because I had no idea how big they are and it took me a little while to figure which end was the head and which was the behind. I'll let you decide. 

The Case of the Missing Pincushion

I have been working on some quiet book pages the last few months as a project to do in my "free time" (for those of you who don't know it's a book for your kids to make them be quiet). As you all know we do not have children nor are we planning on having them in the near future (had to throw that disclaimer in there to keep you from thinking this post is going in a completely different direction than it is). My sister Jenn made one and it took her 9 months, so I figured it will take me years, so I figured I should get a head start now because I know full well that I will not do it later. Well, in order to cut out pieces of felt you obviously need pins, which I regularly leave in places that Steve probably does not appreciate (and no, he has not sat on one...yet). On Tuesday I couldn't find my pincushion anywhere. I literally tore apart the apartment three times looking for the stupid thing. I even checked Charlie's bed. When Steve got home I told him that I was convinced that Charlie stole it and hid it from me. I think he may have thought I was paranoid, but it turns out I was not. I thought I would make one last effort and guess where I found it? Under my BED!!! I think if Sherlock Holmes had been involved he would have found it quicker. I'm not going to lie, I was starting think I was just looking to blame the cat because then I would feel less stupid for losing it, but this time I was justified. However, I'm still unsure as to how it got all the way from the living room to the bed. This incident may also explain the disappearance of the sixth Nerf dart that recently went missing. He may find himself up for auction on EBAY if he keeps this up....

The Day the Elephant Died

Yes folks, it's true. One of the elephants died while we were at the circus on Friday. Talk about traumatizing. Just kidding. It didn't die, but it was lying on the ground so that one of the other elephants could sit on it, so it may as well be dead. Steve and I had never been to a circus before, so when it came to College Station this week we decided to go. And I decided that "carnies" really are weird people. If one of our future children told us as an adult that joining the circus was their life dream I would die a little inside. Actually, a lot.

Our favorite part was watching the trained cats and dogs to tricks. Mostly because we like to believe we have "trained" the beast formerly know as Charlie to perform. For quite some time we have been teaching Charlie to walk backwards on his hind legs when we are bringing him food, so we were thinking about sending him to the circus so he can make money for us (at least until Steve becomes a breadwinner). That way I can quit substitute teaching and enjoy a life of leisure.

The one disappointment I had was that there was no lion or tiger. How can you be the greatest show on earth without one?! Have people really lowered their circus standards so low that they no longer see the need for an animal that could tear you like a paper shredder if he wanted? I was hoping them closing the show was just a fake-out for an encore to bring out the lion, so I made Steve stay in our seats. And we got nothin'! It really was the end of the show. I wanted to see the ringmaster stick his head inside his mouth. So either all the children's books I read growing up were a lie or this guy was a fake. I vote the latter.

And so the moral of the story is Barnum and Bailey is not the greatest show on earth, Disneyland/world is/are not the happiest places on earth and beef is not what is for dinner. What a crock.

Happy Anniversary to me! (and Steve)

I just got back from spending two weeks with Jenn, Aaron and baby Sarah in St. George. It was good to see family and to spend time with Sarah (who looks SO MUCH like Jenn now, just with Aaron's head). She is learning to say a few words among which is Jesus, but sounds like cheese. She evens points to his picture every time she sees it (she also enjoys pointing at your face and occasionally trying to grab your eyelids). She also has decided to use a fake laugh, often after you laugh. I had a hard time discerning whether she was laughing with me or mocking me, but based on her feisty personality I will have to say the latter.

We regularly took her to a water park as she loves to play in water (bath time with her is more like playing at a water park and your bathroom gets just as wet). She thinks it's the funnest thing in the world even though you can see her lip quivering. It's also quite entertaining to see her yell at the water in the mini waterfalls. On our way to the grocery store one morning we happened to take a shortcut through the park and she got so excited when she saw the water, but when we walked past it she started to cry because she was so sad. I think she may have thought we tricked her or something, but we felt so bad we took a different route on our way home.

I flew home on Steve and I's (is that correct?) anniversary and I was surprised by a bunch of post-it-note hearts that Steve had put all over the apartment (including one hidden in the toilet paper roll) of things he loves about me (after that my gift seemed pretty lame). We had gotten home pretty late and went to bed soon after getting back to the apartment. I was woken up at 2 am by a warm spot next to me. Thinking it was Steve wanting to cuddle because he missed me I went to give him a kiss on the cheek only to get a mouth full of CHARLIE FUR!!!!! The beast had found a small spot between Steve and I in the bed and had crawled in it and fallen asleep. Steve woke up to the sound of me spitting up fur and demanding that he throw him off the bed. I leave for two weeks and Charlie thinks he can sleep wherever he wants. What a bum.