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.