I Want to Believe

It all started one fateful summer evening. The smell of Orem Summerfest was in the air. Not only was I all alone in the house, but the entire city was deserted. I was stricken with a mysterious illness that forced me to keep a bucket near. As I lay there in the eeriness of the quiet family room, I knew I shouldn't watch it alone. I knew it scared me. The music alone was enough to make one's skin crawl. But the curiosity defeated my logic. I started to watch what would become a converting marathon.

From that night on, I couldn't get enough. I knew what days and times TNT would play the old reruns. I knew they wouldn't be shown on the weekends. In those instances, a certain lonliness would ensue. But soon, it wasn't enough. The random episodes only gave way to more curiosity. I wanted, no, I needed to know the whole storyline.

I soon found myself watching auctions on Ebay for the seasons. Nine to be exact. Nine seasons were taunting me to be viewed. I had to have them. I finally broke down and purchased them all. Best decision of my life.

To those who have never devoted hours upon hours to this religion will never know. They look at and think: Aliens. Dumb. To you I say you couldn't be any more wrong. I was once in your shoes and saw only cliche flying saucers and green men. It runs much deeper. I can't even begin to explain to one who knows nothing about it. Conspiracies. Mystery. Mulder. Forbidden love.

And now, the day has finally come. I have spent countless hours scouring the internet for news about this rumored movie. To be honest, I didn't think it would ever come. Or at least not until December 22, 2012.

*view the trailer

MTC

So as most of you are aware (because I keep crying about it), the little brother entered the Missionary Training Center yesterday. My older brother Brandon went on a mission about ten years ago, so I thought I would be sufficiently prepared. I was wrong.

We gathered at the parents' house in the morning and ate wheat pancakes. Around 10:40 we headed to Provo to drop Chad off. All the Mission Presidents are training this week at the MTC, so we got bumped to the Stake Center by Lavell Edwards Stadium. We got there and white tents were scattered throughout the vast parking lot. We were shuffled towards them, where we met a kind old man who checked Chad in. We then put yellow tags on all his luggage.

He was then sent to another tent to get his nametag. It was weird when he put the tag on with his suit. It made it all more real. It was interesting to see all the different families and the different missionaries scattered about in the parking lot. For some reason I only felt sorry for my family. I know, I shouldn't.

Our family next took a picture by the church before we went in. Once in the Chapel, we took our respective chairs and waited for the inevitable. I was fine during the talks, but once they had us sing "Called to Serve", I could barely make it thru the words. It was ridiculous. Then they had us watch the movie titled (you guessed it) "Called to Serve". I lost it. As dumb as it sounds, I couldn't really contain myself.

As soon as the movie was finished, we said a prayer and were asked to say goodbye. A quick, band-aid like goodbye, was what they encouraged. If you could have seen my family, you would have laughed. It was quite a scene. All of us have tears streaming down our faces, and as an added bonus, Kim had her head back wailing. That was the saddest part.

Chad then left out one door, and we went out the other. When we got back to the Suburban, we watched as the missionaries marched to the bus. Chad wouldn't look over at us. Jerk. Kidding. And that was it. My family headed to the Olive Garden to start the grieving process.

I really don't remember it being this hard when Brandon left. But then again, I was in Junior High when he went in so I didn't care because I was Awesome. I'm sure these next two years will go pretty fast, but I can't seem to believe it right now.

But I really am glad that he is finally out there. He's going to be an amazing missionary. And I'm sure my family will stop being such a bunch of babies soon...hopefully.

Capitol Reef

So a few weekends ago, the friends and I took off to Capitol Reef. For those of you unfamiliar, Capitol Reef is located about three hours southeast from Orem. My family camped here often when I was a youngster, but its been a few years since we've been in the area.

We normally try to camp at the Capitol Reef National Park (because its pretty much amazing), but it was full by the time we got there. But no worries, we headed a half hour up the Dixie National Forest and set up camp. It was pretty secluded, so we could be as noisy as we wanted.

On Saturday, the Crew hiked Sulphur Creek. This is one that the fam did a few years back, and it is one of my favorites. You hike along side (or in) this creek and you come to several waterfalls. The falls aren't too big, but tons of fun.

Me, Heather, and Katie strolling up the creek. And in this one, Danny carried me up like this the whole way. Not.

Just exploring the nooks and crannies of the rocks.

Here we are back in Torrey. This is the town right before you hit Capitol Reef, and let me tell you, this place rocks. Time moves just a little bit slower in Torrey. This little ditch runs along side the whole town. Here, my friends conned me into climbing onto this abandoned rope swing; assuring me they did the same. It wasn't until I was 15 off the ground that they fessed up and said they hadn't really gone up the swing. Great guys, how do I get down?

Mele, Tara, Sarah, and I checking out this Kiva in the middle of town. We also found these abandoned cars in the wilderness of Torrey. If the doors are wired shut, does it means "Keep Out"? Doubt it.

So, pretty much Capitol Reef, the Dixie National Forest, and good ole Torrey made for quite an enjoyable weekend. Apart from the fact that many of us were sick (refer to blog: "brink of death"), it was the kickoff to a great summer.

can of duster

When I get bored at work, I surf the internet. When I get bored of the internet, I start going through things on my desk, looking to make something better or more convenient. Or just to change it for the heck of it. Often times I find myself with a cold can of duster. You know, the can of air that has a straw connected to the spout to blow particles freely into the air. I was getting antsy at work today, and couldn't sit in my seat any longer. I found my can and began to wonder about the idea behind it. I have come to the conclusion that the can of duster really serves no meaningful purpose except to get me through the last hour of work before the weekend. You get your can and aim it at your keyboard, and dust goes flying any which way. This doesn't solve the problem of dust in the first place. It just sends it to another place on the desk; so now I have to dust this next contaminated spot. Wouldn't it better serve us if it was just the opposite - a can with suction. Think about it. A little can with a tiny straw that sucks up all the dust. I think about this everytime I use this ingenius office product, but really, am I going to stop using the can of office duster? Nope.

brink of death

I trust that there hasn't been a soul is sight who hasn't heard me whine about me being sick. But pretty much all of you who read my blog, whine about me never writing anything new. So, here you have it. You get to read about me being sick. Fair trade. Anyway, it all started around May 14, 2008. I mentioned to my co-worker that I could feel a cough coming on. Which is really weird for me because I don't usually just get a "cough". But as the week progressed, I could tell it wasn't going anywhere. That weekend we went camping to Capitol Reef (look for an upcoming post about that) and my cough continued to get worse. I don't think it was good being around all the campfire smoke, but oh well - this wasn't going to ruin my camping trip. I should mention that it didn't help that those who occupied my same vehicle for this trip (Tara, Sarah, and Mele) were all pretty ill as well. I think we just got each other more sick. So I arrived home on Sunday afternoon with full intentions of going to my friend's mission farewell and then making it back in time to go to my own Sacrament meeting. Did I make it to either? Did I even make it past my parents' family room couch? Nope. I basically crashed on the couch for about four hours. Extreme fatigue had set it. I'm pretty sure I went to bed around 10 PM that night. Which is about three hours earlier than usual. The next day I woke up feeling lousy and really tired, so I texted the lady I work with to see if she would be there to cover my desk. This was her response, "I will be here. But I will be covering Linda's desk." Translation: "You must go to work Tawny." Bummer. So I suffered through a Monday at the OB-GYN clinic with a partial voice. I opted out of going to Micro class that night. I went home and took a nap, and then went to bed around 9 PM. The next day I woke up with even less of a voice and also the beginnings of what I thought to be "pink eye". I called in sick to work. I left a message, and let me tell you, I don't know if I would even understand what I said. That next night, Wednesday, I had Micro class again and decided I better go. I got to class and started taking the quiz. The quiz was on the overhead and he uncovers the questions one at a time. We got to question 8 before I could feel the overwhelming need to cough. I coughed twice, but I felt no relief. I tried holding it in because I didn't want to be one of those kids in class that can't stop coughing or sniffling. But to my great disappointment, holding in the cough only made it worse. Tears started streaming down my face and I thought my insides would implode from a lack of oxygen. I hurried and circled "C" on questions 9 and 10, and ran out the door. I proceeded to cough uncontrollably for the next five minutes straight. This kid in the hall poked his head around and said, "Hey, are you okay?" I muttered in my half-voice, "Yeah, I think so." But really I thought I was going to die. When I finally mustered enough courage to face my classmates again, I ran in the door and grabbed my books and headed home. The next night, I had Micro lab. I was lucky enough to be ill on a day where we were swabbing ourselves for diseases. I volunteered myself for project so I could see what was causing all my grief. We swabbed my nasty throat because I was sure something was growing back there because it was about half its normal size. We also swabbed the inside of my nose. We let the dishes grow over night. At work on Friday, I still sounded pretty bad, so the nurse gave me a Rx for an antibiotic - which I am sure has saved my life. I returned that day to the lab to see what was going down. I checked my plate growing my throat culture, and my germs turned the red plate green. Nasty. I then checked my special MSA (mannitol salt agar) plate. The MSA plates specialize in growing Staph aureus, which is the strain of Staph that is pathogenic (disease causing). If it is positive for S. aureus, it turns the red plate yellow. I pulled out my plate and to my surprise, my nose culture was completely yellow! My classmates were pretty grossed out. I immediately headed to Target to get my Rx filled and to get Echinacea, Zinc, Chloroseptic throat spray, and Ricola throat drops. I was determined at that point to rid myself of this. By Saturday, my lungs were beginning to hurt from the coughing and I made the mistake of mentioning this to my mother, who immediately turned around and told me that I had bronchitis and walking pneumonia, and that I needed to see a Doctor. I assured her that this wasn't a big deal, and that I would heal on my own. But really in the back of my mind, having my mother doubt my condition, only made me more of a worried hypochondriac. Thanks Mom. But I kept positive and got a lot of sleep through the weekend, and I am happy to report that I am almost completely healed. My voice still can't get as high as it once did, and I can't sing yet the way I used to, but I feel a full recovery in the works. All in all I had the following symptoms in the last two weeks: deep chest cough, runny nose, sore throat, "pink eye", inner ear problems, sinus congestion, loss of voice, extreme fatigue, sleep-less nights, lung pains, etc. Normally I'm not a baby when I get sick (HA! That's not true...), but I am usually pretty resilient. When I get a cold, I am usually all better in three days (Thanks to Zicam and AirBorne). I know most of you are saying, "Tawny, please. We already know all of this. How can we forget when you keep reminding us?" My deepest apologies to you all. But, in a way, you asked for it.

One Team. Crushed Dream.

Well, the Jazz season is officially over. While I am not yet able to talk about it freely without getting angry and cursing, I will tell about a few good times from the Playoffs this year.

Here is Tara (aka Tito) and me sporting our Deron Williams t-shirts at one of the Houston Rockets games.

Playoff Mania

Michelle and me

Mele sporting the Jazz sweatband.

And look who I ran into. My long, lost friend Kindi.

I wish I could comment further about the Playoffs, but I get pretty riled up. I am convinced that the NBA is rigged and won't ever let the Jazz win the finals. I also didn't see the last game against the Lakers because I was camping, so it was like I never saw them lose. Denial. It's my favorite way to cope.

microbiology

Summer school. Ugh. I'm kind of sick of people who I haven't seen in a while asking me, "So, what have you been up to?" I give the same, scripted answer over and over again: "Just school and work." I really feel like that is all I do - well, because it is. But anyway, this summer I am taking one class: Microbiology. There is a lecture and lab to this class. My lecture teacher is from Russia (I think), and just goes on in his thick accent about the "yeastie beasties". It's actually pretty funny. But at the same time two things happen in lecture: I either fall asleep or I end up leaving after an hour. It's inevitable. But I actually find the lab portion of class to be pretty fun. I take it from this old man that is incredibly nice. I go to lab two times a week and basically strap on gloves and goggles and play with microorganisms like e coli and staph. Cool - I know. So there you have it. There is my summer update for you. So if you talk to me, that's basically what I'll tell you I'm doing; at least until June 18th.

E coli

Blood Draw

About three summers ago, Nan, Hollie, and myself took a phlebotomy course. It was pretty fun, but I have since lost my awesome skills. So I work for IHC at Legacy OB-GYN and have made some friends in the neighboring clinics, pharmacy, and lab. In the lab I have a friend by the name of Becki. Any of you city softball fans would remember her as our third baseman last summer. Anyway, I was down in the lab chatting with Becki the other day and I was telling her about my blood drawing experience. I related to her that I was pretty scared about being a phlebotomist. She then insisted that I practice on her. I told her I really didn't want to (but slightly in the back of my mind I wanted to see if I could remember how to do it). She won the battle and I proceeded to grab a needle, hub, alcohol pad, vial, cotton ball, gloves, etc. I fastened the tournequette tightly on her arm, sanitized the fleshy area, secured my vein of choice between two fingers, and finally inserted the needle. A small amount of blood traveled through the plastic tubing. I plugged the vial at the end and watched as the blood flowed freely. Victory was mine. So, now I go down to the lab on Monday's, Wednesday's, and Friday's to practice. Last Friday I took a butterfly needle and drew from Becki's hand. I am happy to report that she did not sustain a bruise and you can barely even see a puncture mark. My phlebotomy future is bright.

spring break 2008

Due to the incredible amounts of threats and requests to update the blog - here's to all of you. With school and work causing a constant annoyance now that the sun has decided to reveal itself, spring break couldn't have come any sooner this year. I was going to write a lengthy blog and give you the day by day low-down, but I figured...I don't feel like it. So here are a few pictures and a brief description...

Ashley James and myself cruising on a boat at Sand Hollow (just right outside of St. George).Just crouzin' around the hills and mountains of St. George in this sweet four door Jeep. Someday...(sigh).

Instead of spending another cliche evening in Las Vegas, I forced Heather and Ashley to drive with me to Hoover Dam. We had a dam good time! So, I know this wasn't the best blog, but, hey, I'm busy!

UGGLY

WARNING - THIS MAY BE OFFENSIVE TO ABOUT 50% OF THE GIRL POPULATION... I recently sat on a University Mall bench a few weeks ago with Amy and Ali Goffin. I was shocked to see how many girls had their pants tucked into their boots! We turned it into a game and started counting to see just how many offenders there were. In the 7 minutes that we sat on the bench, we counted a total of about 15 to 20 girls. And, unfortunately, this was just on one side of the hall. If we were to turn 180 degrees to the other flow of traffic, I'm sure it would have doubled. Are the girls of Utah Valley aware that they are NOT living in Aspen, Colorado? Not only are UGG boots being sported (which, granted, is slightly okay if you're living in a posh city like Aspen or Park City), but we are seeing just about every kind of boot; snow boots, tall rubber boots, short boots, moon boots - if you own a pair of boots, tuck 'em in! Some may defend the point - "There's snow outside. We don't the bottom of our pants wet." Well, what have you done in the past? This is not the first winter with snow, but this is certainly the first outbreak of this epidemic. In any event, a day in Utah Valley would make Napolean proud.