Car Alarms And Death Threats

I've been living in fear the last couple of weeks. It's like something out of a cheaply-made horror movie. Girl parks car. Girl receives threatening notes on car about her broken car alarm. Girl ignores notes. Girl receives more notes that seem to be more and more bloodthirsty. Girl fears for her life. Girl is found and killed for not fixing her car alarm. Credits roll. 

Except in my case, I was not killed and was kind enough to pay 80 dollars to get the dang thing fixed. Although in this situation I plead ignorance as the cause of my tardiness in fixing the problem. How was I supposed to know that my car alarm goes off "night and day," not allowing anyone to sleep? PUH-LEESE. Who needs sleep anyways?

Raul at the car-fixing place completely sided with me. How unfair to threaten calling the police! How cruel to call me "annoying!" Let's find the psychopath and duke it out! Thanks Raul for always having my back. Expensive as it was, I now can breathe freely knowing that a sleep-derived maniac won't jump me at night when I walk to my car.

Death Threats Galore

"Don't let me ask the third time."

And my favorite part. The first note was signed as "Windsor Park Residents." The second was from the notoriously evil "Windsor Park PRESIDENT." I just got shivers down my spine. 

Seeing that I was probably going to be murdered for my negligence, I decided to live it up these past couple weeks by basically going from one adventure to another. That, and staring at cadaver parts for my Anatomy Lab...

Eating out at Costa Vida and Cafe Rio....3 times....in one week. Hellloooo love handles.

Waking up to this. No words.

Saturday was a dream. A eat-powder-all-day-long-laughing-your-booty-off dream. 

This beautiful bracelet is the only evidence I have that I went country dancing. That's probably a good thing because our  rendition of the Dirty Dancing lift was subpar at best. 

Date night with The Illustrious Beckstead. 

Blading is life. And so are repulsive bad table manners at Cafe Rio.

Late night temple sessions by myself. I love this place. It's  my safe spot from all care and stress and hurt. I can't say it enough; God lives and loves us. 

That is my little noggin on top of that rock. It's so warm we can climb outside!

It is, in fact, possible to have fun in the face of probable cold-blooded murder.

Valentine's Love

Valentine's Day Conversation With A Man On The Lift With The Really Attractive Son

Man: Did your boyfriend wait for you while you were on your mission?
Me: Nope. No boyfriend. *sneaky side glance at the Really Attractive Son*
Dad: I waited for her!
Me: Him and skiing. They both waited for me.

..............................................................................................................

Valentine's Day 2015. I'm in love with:
My family.
Skiing.
The Book of Mormon.
Anything Spanish.
Friends.
Going to the temple.
Munching on my apple as I people watch on campus.
Riding my bike to work at 5 AM.
Jesus Christ and my Heavenly Father.
Sweets.
Deep and sweet prayer.
Insanity DVDs.
Being outside.
Leftovers for breakfast.
Dancing to Bachata alone in my room.
Not yearning for something I don't have.

Falling in love with life everyday. Whether he be cranky or joyful or spontaneous or a little blue...he sure is fun to love.

"Adam fell, that men might be; and men are, that they might have joy."
                                                                                          - 2 Nephi 2:25

A 3 Girl Backpacking Adventure

Today was one of those Thursdays where you put your nose to the grindstone and do it like the pioneers...one step at a time for a long ways. Midterms are always a leetle brutal, especially after more than a year and a half of freedom. As I exited the Testing Center, slightly discouraged and exhausted, I looked up at the mountains. And this is what I saw.

Not that extremely large science building that has a delicious restaurant inside...no no. That mountain behind it. On the right side is the Y Mountain and to the left is Squaw Peak. Squaw Peak has the unjust reputation for being where all the hormone driven freshman go to suck face. I call that place Pseudo-Squaw Peak because it's just a parking lot that isn't even at the top. 

But the genuine Squaw Peak is so untainted by those smooching youth. And she was calling us this last Friday night. It was like she was whispering my name as I stared at more cadaver muscles and vacuumed more study rooms. 

And we heeded her call. Sam, Elise and I started trekking up there at around 9:30 PM on Friday night with nothing but a tent, sleeping bags, and some Pretzel M&M's. We're talking really disorganized here. We didn't even know there was going to be at least 3 feet of snow the entire way up... and we brought each just one pair of socks. Everyone but Elise forgot their water bottles in the car and we didn't have flashlights or gloves or in Sam's case, shoes that had traction. 

But oh! The mountain was still calling! Full moon! Sinking into snow banks! Muddy embankments and   munching on the Pretzel M&M's and deep deep girl talk... I would much rather be outside and dirty and fatigued than inside, spiffed up and bored. Nature is everything that a man should be. Strong, heartbreakingly good looking, wild, spontaneous and at times, perfectly calm, comforting, and tender. Nature is my main man. 

We slipped up the mountain, sometimes talking, mostly not. Just letting that frigid mountain air sink into my bones made me feel free of all social bonds and expectations. We ended up taking the wrong hill and summited about 10 "false summits". I kept glancing back and yelling "THIS here is it! The summit!" And Sam with all her Southern sassiness kept retorting, "YOU SAID THAT TWO SUMMITS AGO. LIAR." 

Eventually we arrived at.... well.... I don't think it was the actual Squaw Peak summit. But it was most definitely on top of some peak. Somewhere. We set up camp, realized that we had basically no blankets, Sam brushed her teeth with her finger, and Elise got in her Camping Captain mode. 

Midnight. All of a sudden I am awake. Which is weird, because I literally wake up to nothing. Recently I missed out on an ice-climbing trip because I slept through my friends 100 missed calls. But I was awake here, on top of some mountain, somewhere. 

And there were two men outside the tent door.

I SWEAR TO YOU I THINK I HAD A STROKE, DIED, AND CAME BACK TO LIFE IN THAT VERY INSTANT.

It was bout the freakiest occurrence. We were three, defenseless girls, on top of Squaw Peaks neighbor. No cell service. No men. Nothing. (This is when I realize that men are sometimes important to have in situations like this.) Honestly, I could understand nothing of what they said. They must have been speaking Chinese for all I got out of it. (REM cycle interrupted= loss of all cognitive functions) But they were there. Right there. 

All I remember was whispering a little, indistinguishable prayer, hoping they would go away. And not see the car keys I had carelessly flung outside the tent. WE WERE ON A MOUNTAIN TOP, WHO WOULD STEAL???

And then they were gone. Freakiest thing of my life. Hello boys, I will now date you if you promise to protect me on mountain tops and be my chauffeur and buy me food. But really, I am so grateful that nothing happened! We were fine! Elise, as usual, was in a deep deep slumber but Sam had heard the whole thing too. 

God exists. That is all I can say. Divine protection is such a real real thing. 

We then skipped all the way down at 5 AM the next morning, watched the sunrise, fell in the mud, and relished that clean, crisp mountain air. 

I love nature. Let's do it again. 

Birthdays And Lots Of Meat

The Compassionate Service Committee came over to my house tonight. I stumbled out of my room looking like a pajama party gone wrong; fuzzy socks, mismatched plaid, and bra-less. They proceeded to give me candy (!!!!) and a rose (whoooocaarreeessss?) and I then proceeded to eat the entire bag...in under five minutes. I blame it on the midterm blues.

But my gluttony is not important because today is a special day. Over two decades ago the cutest, sweetest, funniest set of twins were born. HAPPY BIRTHDAY ALEX AND SYDNEY! 

When we were babies.

I remember the first time I saw that curly headed, short, irresistibly likable duo. It was the summer of 2011 and we were in the same orientation group for BYU. I was probably wearing short shorts and being angsty because I had to leave my boyfriend for the summer. I was lounging on the grass with our group, a little disturbed by the eclectic array of people there. One of the girls wanted to be a coroner who literally looked like a corpse herself, and one that hadn't seen the light in 78 years. I was thinking that I would never be able to find some good friends who weren't obsessed with dead bodies when I saw two beautiful creatures come mincing in; Alex and Sydney. 

And that is how the friendship started. 

Thanks Alex and Sydney for being a ray of sunshine for everyone that comes in your path. You're the very best and I love you both to smithereens. You truly are such Christ-like people and I admire you both so much. And let's be honest, you're so quirky and nerdy and strange....we're like four peas in a pod (with Elise). I hope you had a fantastic birthday!!

 ...................

To celebrate this huge occasion we splurged and went to Tucanos. My oh my oh me. This place is INSANE. It's a Brazilian grill where they serve you all-you-can-eat meat right off the skillet. We sat down and Sydney said to me, "this place is your best dream and worst nightmare put together." Pshhhh. It's an all you can eat meat place! Waiters come every half second to give you more meat! Bacon wrapped pork loin! Teriyaki steak! Parmesan chicken! Hot wings! Grilled pineapple! How can this place be compared, even in a joke, to a nightmare?

Well. It can.

MEAT MEAT MEAT MEAT MEAT. It was like it wouldn't stop. I was stuck in a labyrinth of meat and couldn't escape. Get me out of here before I burst! Have mercy! No more meat!

We luckily made it out alive but that one guy who was dining by himself a couple tables down......He might still be there, finding solace in the endless meat platters.

The green side up meant that we wanted more meat. The panic when my fingers were too slimy  to turn it to the red side! 

Besos y felicidad, Alex y Sydney. 

The Bike-Stairs Struggle

The Smith Field House is nestled right at the bottom of the giant hill to get to the main campus and everyday I must climb them. With my steel frame bike. On my shoulder. Sometimes those stairs look like mere child's play, nothing that could impede a fit 21 year old.

But other days, those stairs represent everything hard in my life. They represent confusion about what I want to do with my future. They represent my constant and hopeless struggle against classes that I do not excel in. They represent waking up early everyday, occasional loneliness and a constant battle against who I am and who I know I should be. 

Those stairs can be my very last straw on a hard day. 

Many people pass me on those stairs as I slowly trudge up. Most of them are probably worried and sad and busy and late, even more so than me. I assume that they too are facing a "last straw" on a gloomy day. Occasionally people stop to ask if I need help and they dutifully grab my bike and sprint up the stairs. They relieve me of a physically taxing load, but sometimes the heartache sticks; because after all, it's just a really down day. 

Today I was walking those stairs, bike on my shoulder as custom goes. It truly had been a long long day. Scrubbing the walls on my hands and knees at work, ineffectively studying Anatomy all morning and then 4 hours of Anatomy classes on campus... I was whooped emotionally, mentally, physically, and spiritually. Negative thoughts of inadequacy and self-doubt loomed in my mind. How is it that I am the only idiotic student at this behemoth of a school? Why can't I just get it?

That is, until the most attractive and kind looking man came up to me. He had just passed me on the stairs, obviously late to something but had turned around to help me. The poor guy was going the opposite way of his trajectory. He most likely had many other things to worry about. He grabbed my bike from me, talked with me, and helped me. His act was much more than a small token of service for me. His face radiated love. Not a I-am-helping-so-I-can-get-your-number love. In his face I saw the way that my Heavenly Father sees me. 

You may think that this is a big reaction to such a insignificant thing. But what Tate the Economics major did for me was show how we can follow the Lords counsel in Doctrine and Covenants 81:5;

 "Wherefore, be faithful; stand in the office which I have appointed unto you; succor the weak, lift up the hands which hang down, and strengthen the feeble knees."

Thank you Tate. I will most likely never see you again, and I'm sure you won't ever realize how much you impacted my life. Because of you, I want to be a better disciple of Jesus Christ. I want to help those whose shoulders are heavy with the weight of their own "bikes" in life. And I not only want to help with my actions, I want people to feel my sincere love for them. I want them to know that I see them as a child of God, infinitely precious and valued. I want them to feel that at the end of the day God doesn't care if you are terrible at Anatomy or slightly awkward or alone. God loves you for who you were, who you are, and who you will become. 

My hope is that I may incorporate this more fully into my life. To serve with my heart, not my conscience. To love a person like God would, not according to my impression of them. May we all carry up those figurative bikes up those figurative stairs with a deep and genuine love for others. 

Happy Monday. 

Having Tuberculosis Is Hard

All return missionaries will understand what I mean when I say that we all know that the TB test after our missions is a formality. It's really not a valid possibility that we actually get it, right? We basically just spend a lot of time with sick, un-vaccinated folks or in third world hospitals and stuff. This basically means that we are not seriously exposed to such a measly little sickness like Tuberculosis.

Or so I thought.

That mentality and laziness (mostly the laziness) kept me from getting my TB test for a couple months after I got home from my mission. I probably would have put it off until someone had drug me to the clinic in handcuffs or something.

So I have Alex Powell to thank for motivating me to ride my bike a couple extra blocks south to get my TB test. Thanks Alex for scaring the poop right out of me when you showed me your little blistered bump on your arm...TB POSITIVE.

Holy Hamster In A Hammock.

People can actually get TB?

This got my mind all racing and my neurotic tendencies started going crazy. Then I made the rookie mistake of looking up TB symptoms online. Because I had a cough, and let us remember that TB was a real thing, okay?

Signs and symptoms of active TB include:

• Coughing that lasts three or more weeks- COUGH! I had a cough! 
• Coughing up blood- Well....no. I wasn't coughing up blood. But sometimes my gums bleed if I floss too fast! That is so related! 
• Chest pain, or pain with breathing or coughing- Oww. It hurts. To breathe. Oww. I am coughing. 
• Unintentional weight loss- Yes. But I kind of like it? Is it bad to enjoy some symptoms?
• Fatigue- Oh yes. It's possible that it was from waking up at 4:30 AM everyday for my job...but no. TB. Remember the TB. 
• Fever- I had a fever! At work! I even had sent a selfie of me in the supply closet to my mom telling her I had a fever! 
• Night sweats- I sleep with the window open. I have a jean blanket that weighs as much as the X-Ray apron at the dentist but oh my, this is just too much. TB TB TB! 
• Chills- Yes. TB!
• Loss of appetite- Yes. I mean, besides the granola and PB & J binges...

Wouldn't you panic too? The evidence was uncanny. If anyone knew that I had TB...I would be a social exile! More so than now! I tried to keep it on the down low. I would only mention it in sneaky whispers, so outsiders wouldn't get startled by my contagiousness. Did you know Jane Austen died of TB? My hero! Dead from the disease that I probably had but probably didn't! And I lost my voice over it too. It in no way refers to this on the Mayo Clinic website but we all know that no one is perfectly informed. Laryngitis= Tuberculosis.

So to end this story (it's my bed time), I went to the clinic. No one seemed too concerned about my cough. "Hey you! Nurse! I think I have TB bro, listen to this cough!" Nothing.  The nurse then poked me, told me to come back in two days and charged me 20 dollars.

I went back today. The lady called me a "carb-loader" for eating a Poptart and told me I was "clean".

It's hard having Tuberculosis.

The ice cream helped the TB-ridden sore throat.

YOLO when you have TB. And you only do one snapchat before deleting that stupid app, because what's the point of it anyways?

......

I also fell in love with an asian from Australia today. Like, melt into the leather couch, drool on the Time magazine I was browsing type of love. I didn't even get to hear his Crocodile Hunter impersonation.... Love is a sad and twisted thing.

When Parents Come To Town

Remember when you were that super angsty teenager who liked to stay at home and hang out with her parents all day?

That's not a thing? 

Oh. 

Well it was for me. If you all had Sandy and Shane's for parents you would all do the same thing. 

It can be a downside (if you can even classify it as that), because your social life involvinf youth of a similar age demographic goes down...drastically. But I could even argue that this is, in fact, a highly sought after perk in my book. 

So thanks to flight benefits and skiing, I have been able to spend several weekends in the presence of my very cool and laidback parents in the following fashion; 

When Dad Comes To Town 

We ski. 

And ski. 

And ski some more. 

Occasionally we ski too much and have to hobble into the lodge and get some sugar. And what is wrong with my eyes in this picture? I cannot quite pinpoint it, but I'm sensing a Quasimodo/Grim Reaper combo?

And back to skiing we go! With the sad little grass patches everywhere. Call Al Gore and tell him he finally convinced me on global warming. Pray for snow. 

We make a ruckus in dollar theaters and take pictures with flash. We are thoooossseee people. Guardians of the Galaxy. Hello! My type of movie. Mildly inappropriate jokes, dancing trees, and woodland creatures with semiautomatics. And that guy from Parks and Recreation. A plus plus plus plus. 

Did I say we wander? Well we do. Very aimlessly. 

We take pictures with 800 dollar indian dolls. Who looks more demented here? 

We eat other peoples food in fancy log cabins in Midway.

And we antagonize our soft hearted vegetarian relatives by sending them texts of this shirt. And then we buy it. Because nothing says MERICA more than a hunting t-shirt. 

When Dad comes to town we can talk openly about Taylor Swift;
"I just hope that Taylor Swift can find a good man to settle down with." -Shane Ostler

When Dad comes to town inappropriateness rises to new levels and people literally want to kick us out of their house.

When Dad comes to town I can't walk for days from so much skiing.

When Mom Comes To Town

Air hockey. It's like the faster paced, more ruthless version of Foosball. Which is quite unfortunate for me because my eye-hand coordination is quite shabby. The score of my mom and I: 10-1. Guess who won? 

Hey. Remember when I wrote that post where I talk about eating old candy off the ground? This popcorn just happened to be abandoned on the movie theater bench. And my mom and I ate it. It was oh-so-good and I haven't died of anthrax poisoning yet so I think we are good. 

That awkward moment when you realize that everyone can hear your smirks loud and clear during the world-famous acoustic demonstration at Temple Square. 

Eating Thai food in the hotel bed. For breakfast. With our hands. 

Watching my mom almost tumble to her death on this cliff. 

Indulging in overly pricey lodge food. 

SKIING

More skiing! 

We just can't stop skiing! 

And....Alex doing terribly at even more arcade games. And my smoking hot little bro. 

I do apologize for this extremely long photo-binge. But oh my goodness I do not apologize for how much fun I had. Mom and Dad, can you come back? Please???