The Royal Treatment: Steve Style

Steve bought a new plastic shower curtain a few weeks ago and he decided to put it up on Memorial Day.  I thought it smelled disgusting, but I figured if we threw enough soap or cleaner on it the next few days that smell would go away.  We left our apartment for three hours and when we came back the whole apartment smelled like burning tires.  It smelled so bad Steve had to cut the curtain down instead of taking it off the rings one at a time and then he to immediately throw it out.  I told him to buy a new one on his way home from work.  He did and this is what he said:
"I was going to buy you the $2 shower curtain, but then I decided to treat you like a princess and get you the $5 one."
I realize now that I should have asked Steve to clarify what he meant by royal treatment before we got married.

You Know People Think You're Old When...

I recently turned 27 this year and when I look in the mirror I look like I am in high school, so I have to wear my glasses EVERY DAY because people mistake me for being younger.  We're not talking three or four years.  We're talking a decade.  So because that has always been the case I have never felt old and I think 27 is still pretty young, but apparently other people don't think that.  These are a sampling of what I am talking about.

1. When I go home to visit family I still watch VHS tapes on my dad's VCR/DVD combo.  I am not ashamed and will possibly take that VHS player along with the movies I want when my dad dies.  I believe in raising cultured children.  Just you wait, one day a VCR player will be vintage like a record player.  So Dad, put that in your will for me.

2. I did not get rid of my mixed tapes that I painstakingly  recorded off the radio for years until I was in college.  Even then, I only got rid of them because my parents no longer had a car with a cassette player and every one that we owned was dead.

3. I watched the same TV shows as a kid as another intern at my internship that is 8 years older than me and she is consequently the only person who understands that I wanted Scott Baio to be my babysitter.

4. I will sing the entire Fresh Prince of Bel-Air theme song before anyone says that don't know what I am talking about.

5. I used floppy disks until every last computer no longer had a spot for one.  That still did not encourage me to throw them away very fast.

6. I mentioned Pee Wee's Playhouse to someone and they had no idea who Pee Wee Herman was.  Nor do people get the joke about the basement of the Alamo.

7. I saw Dick Tracy at the drive-in with my family.  Does anyone else remember Prune Face?

8. Applique sweaters (why are these back?) with matching sweatpants and windbreakers.  Christmas glitter, Jenn.

9. 80's clothes.  The first time around.

10. We had a hanger on our antennae growing up.  And Steve and I may have also had an antennae our first two years of marriage, which we are keeping because when we move we are not paying for TV.

11. Every thing sounds like Nintendo music and lots of kids give me a blank stare when I say Nintendo.  That was when we had to blow on the games to get them to work and I was a Tetris master (still am in case you were wondering).

12. TGIF.  Code man from Step-by-Step, Perfect Strangers, Steve Erkel from Family Matters, and Full House.  This was usually followed by 20/20 and a little Diagnosis Murder (which also had Scott Baio).  What has happened people?

Cow Tongue...In My Freezer...Sick

Steve is currently in his surgery rotation, but now suturing bananas and pig feet aren't enough for him (of course he waited until I left to buy pig feet and threw them out before I got back).  He decided to buy a big fat cow tongue to practice on that is now in my freezer between uses.  He considers it a "school expense."  Don't worry, we are not going to eat it (I have already eaten cow tongue tacos on my mission and I still dry heave when I think about it--worst tacos ever).

Dr. Steve contaminating my kitchen

Isn't that gray color just disgusting?

What Happens When You Take Steve to Joann's

I am the kind of person that has a million sewing projects going on at the same time (like my eternal quiet book pages project), but I haven't worked on any of them since school started because my brain turned into this:

I usually do some sort of blanket when my sisters have babies and Steve goes to the store with me to help me pick out fabric (I think he might also come to prevent me from coming back with $100 worth of fabric).  I told him to pick one boy fabric and one girl fabric and this is what he chose:

When I asked about the science fabric he said it was for the nerdy kids.  It is still unclear why he thought baby Godzilla was a girl fabric.  At the cutting station I asked him if the Godzilla fabric was really for me to make a blanket for someone else or if he wanted to keep it for himself.  He wants to keep it.

RIP Rocky Raccoon

I always get upset when I see roadkill, unless it is a snake or armadillo.  Those animals are disgusting and I feel better knowing there are less of them (so run over all you want, especially near my apartment).  I know that raccoons are mischievous and infested with rabies, but they're so cute (in my mind the cuter the animal the more sympathy it gets).  How can you look at that face and not feel bad you just ran over it? (Unless you are Steve and then I already know how you feel.)

Steve took me to the airport last Tuesday early in the morning when it was still dark outside and while changing lanes I heard him hit a huge rock that sounded like an explosion. I may have shouted a little bit, but in my defense it was only because I thought he blew out our tire (on my side of the car, of course).  I told Steve he should have been paying attention to a huge rock and then he said it wasn't a rock, but that was all he said.  I asked him if it was a raccoon and he said, "Yes."  So then I asked, "Were you not going to tell me it was a raccoon until I specifically asked if it was so that you wouldn't have to tell me and you wouldn't technically be lying?"  And this was his response: "Yes, but in my defense it was already dead.  I just hit it again."  What a sicko.  He has escaped my murder charges this time, but he may not be so lucky in the future.

She Was Right

I often take shortcuts or ignore things Megan says because I'm efficient (not because I'm either too lazy or I just want to do things my own way). The most recent case was one night when I was preparing the next days lunch for myself, part of which included cheese, meat, and crackers ("big boy Lunchables", yeah I'm that mature). I decided I was going to just throw the crackers, cheese, and meat all into one baggy (to save the environment, because I care.) Megan told me it was going to make the crackers soggy, a risk that I told her I was willing to accept.

The next day I pulled out my lunch to discover I was not prepared for the nastiness that is soggy Triscuits. I did not expect such a relatively minor loss in crunchiness to result in such a dramatic change in taste. I forced the first one or two crackers down. I thought to myself, "I can just throw these away, I brought other stuff in my lunch, and Megan will never have to know." Then another part of me thought,"No, she will know. I don't know how she will, but she just will. She always does." I spent the next 15 or so minutes choking down every last morsel, determined to live with the fate I had chosen. And then she never ended up asking about it, but I confessed anyway.

Here are some unrelated pictures of our trip to San Antonio yesterday.

Top: view of the Riverwalk. Left Bottom: an old church. Mid Bottom: Us in front of the Alamo.  Right Bottom: the slight step above mall cop: Park Police for the Riverwalk.

Put Your Big Boy Pants On

For those of you who are easily offended, this is not the blog post for you.  To those of you who may have been expecting a humorous or entertaining post, you will be disappointed.  And if you find yourself getting offended while reading, you'll recover so walk it off and suck it up.  My stance on your offense lines up with Rhett Butler's feelings, so don't expect sympathy from me because you will get none.

Generally when I vent, it is to Steve in the privacy of our own home, but I would like to be perfectly clear and honest with those of you who constantly bitch and berate those that were born and raised in Utah like you are somehow better or more "enlightened" than those of us that did.  You're probably wondering what may have influenced this post.  I generally enjoy my ward here in Texas, but this week was not the first time people (teaching the lessons, no less) have felt the need speak with derision towards "Utah" Mormons simply because we grew up differently.  Please note that I did not say easier or harder, as it was neither.  It was simply different.

If I told you that when devil gets to the borders of Utah he stops and says, "Well.  I'm not allowed in there, so I'll just have to turn around" you would call me an idiot.  And I would be if I believed it, but that is more or less what you are implying when you say that it was somehow easier for us that grew up in Utah.  I can assure that it was not and none of my siblings would contest my stance.  We were no more immune to pain and suffering than the rest of you. When you say, "Oh, those Utah Mormons" like we somehow have a monopoly on "that" type of people, you're wrong.  In fact, I have never been to church in another state, or country for that matter, where I didn't see those very Mormons you are so quick to identifying as being "from Utah."

Ignorance is a choice you make REGARDLESS of your geographic home, not because of it.  Nor does growing up outside of Utah make you tolerant.  Tolerance is something that you learn; it is not an gift that God bestowed on you simply because you arbitrarily were not born in Utah.  

I find that one of the most common complaints is about how Utah drivers "are the worst drivers ever." I am uninterested in your anecdotal opinions and it is worth noting that our car insurance went up when we moved to Texas. Truthfully, Steve and I have found that the ones that complain the most often have less than stellar driving skills and records themselves (I'm trying to be generous here, but don't test me. I will name names).  If you were so foolish as to insult me while I am driving you may find yourself suddenly walking home.  I don't make threats I am not fully prepared to keep (Steve can vouch for that). If you are interested in actually finding out how your state as a whole ranks, do some research (or you can keep living in willful ignorance because it's easier than taking back your unfounded accusations).  In fact, for you lazy ones at there, I've already done some for you:
http://www.thedailybeast.com/galleries/2010/09/22/the-worst-drivers-in-america.html#slide1
http://www.insurancenetworking.com/news/Auto-insurance-state-rates-rankings-30054-1.html
http://www-fars.nhtsa.dot.gov/States/StatesCrashesAndAllVictims.aspx
http://www.usnews.com/news/slideshows/the-10-best-states-for-teen-drivers/3
http://www.usnews.com/news/slideshows/the-10-worst-states-for-teen-drivers/11
http://www.allstatenewsroom.com/channels/News-Releases/releases/where-do-american-cities-rank-in-eighth-annual-allstate-america-s-best-drivers-report

And my favorite of all is when people continue to demean Utah and its residents even after they go to school, work, and marry people from there.  It's not like BYU is twisting your arm saying you have to go there.  There are other members of the church at other schools in other states, so it's not like you have zero chance of ever getting married if *blasphemy* you go somewhere else.  If you hate Utah so much, DON'T GO THERE AND STOP WHINING ABOUT IT, because, surprise, surprise, we don't care.  If you don't like it, stay in your own state.  No one is forcing you to be miserable, so stop victimizing yourself and blaming your misery on a state.

Do not be fooled into thinking that I feel any obligation to be nice to you while you berate my home state and talk to me like you are somehow better than me simply because you grew up in a different geographic location.  Stereotyping, while sometimes true, is always incomplete.  Church is NEVER an appropriate place demean and berate others period.  If you really are interested in creating unity within the church, you should start by checking your over-generalizations at the door.

When you are ready to talk about an individual's actions or behavior, then I will listen to what you have to say.  But if you insist on making assumptions without any data of substance to back it up, I will probably rip you a new one.